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Posted by on in Bloody Death

A sequel to From a Hypothetical Yakuza Novel 1, inspired in part by a certain unused scene in Kill Bill: sister of the slain kunoichi seeks revenge, even if it's the last thing she does.

From a Hypothetical Yakuza Novel, Scene 2

A gust of chilly wind caught him as he rounded another corner, penetrating the light jacket that he wore over his usual business suit, causing him to instinctively scrunch his shoulders a little. This evening, the roundabout path from the chore of overseeing the Clan's industrial district operations to his car had taken him in front of Warehouse D-21. On the outside, it was no different from the other blocky, rust-colored structures that lined the street, with an occasional working street lamp.

D-21 brought back recent memories, though: a few months before, it was there that he had fought and slain the infamous Jade Kunoichi and her retainers. The police lines and the bodies were long gone now, with nothing to show for it: everybody in his world knew just who had done it and why, but nobody wanted the police involved, least of all the police themselves.

He stopped. Ahead of him, he had spotted a figure causally sitting on top of the farthest lamppost on that block. Outwardly, he did nothing, but he was already planning his next move.

“Good evening!” It was a cheerful female voice. A moment later, she gracefully flipped off her perch, landing noiselessly into the spotlight. He remembered where he had seen her: it was at the ceremony that took place two weeks after the deaths of his uncle and the Jade Kunoichi. There, a peace agreement with the Jade Clan had been formalized. A younger sister of the Jade Kunoichi, she had stood out from the rest of her clan with her not-quite-traditional bleached blond hair and a dark brown artificial tan. He had heard they called that fashion “ganguro,” though she seemed to eschew the heavy makeup that “ganguro” supposedly wore.

Rather than the skimpy uniform of a Jade-clan kunoichi, she was wearing an even skimpier version of a “sailor” school uniform, consisting of a short-sleeved white button-down shirt and a jade-colored miniskirt. She wore it braless, he could tell, because the shirt was unbuttoned and tied off under her breasts, revealing much of the deeply tanned flesh of her bosom and all of her toned abdomen. The skirt, too, was short enough that every gust of wind revealed a similar lack of panties, along with the knowledge that she shaved her pubic hair. She wore no footwear, but he could see the toenails of her bare feet were painted jade green, like those of her late sister. He always did admire the physical and mental conditioning Jade Clan applied to their trainees: though half-naked in the cold, she was showing no discomfort, or shivering. Unlike most of the Jade Clan’s ninja, she did not appear averse to using firearms: on her belt, she had two hand grenades (that he could see), an Uzi, and several magazines of ammunition.

“Good evening.”

“You sure took your time getting here. I've been freezing my butt up there every night for a week!”

“May I presume that this is about your elder sister?”

“Right. I am here to kill you for what you did to her.”

Normally, such a declaration would have been met with a quick draw and a killing shot, but this time, there was the matter of justifying it before their two clans: without proof that he was threatened, killing her at this point could be considered aggression. Thus, he chose his words carefully: “It was my humble understanding that our clans had come to an agreement that the Jade Kunoichi's actions in facilitating the death of my uncle were driven by a desire on her part to provoke me into a test of fighting prowess. It was also my understanding that the honorable and respected Jade Clan has disavowed her actions, acknowledging my revenge on her as legitimate, and thus not subject to retribution by the honorable and respected Jade Clan or...”

“You just don't get it, do you?! You're just like the Elders!” The girl interrupted. “You think it's just because you killed her. So you killed her. She was ready to die, if you proved stronger than her! But you didn’t give her that! She said that whoever won, the winner would never forget the battle. She even waited until you killed all of her retainers to confront you! And you just shot her!”

Her voice shifted lower, turning into a growl.

“I saw her body. I can read blood spatter as well as anybody. I know you shot her through the throat after she challenged you. You bastard...”

He observed her, responding in the same, overly formal language: “At no point did I make a secret of what had taken place, nor of my intentions. Whereas her goal was to provoke me into a blade duel, my goal was to kill her.”

...
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Posted by on in Bloody Death

This is an old story of mine, but comments and criticism are still welcome. A male assassin takes on a squad of female ninja and their leader. This story is meant to read like a scene out of a yakuza novel.

From a Hypothetical Yakuza Novel, Scene 1

The moonlight streaming in through the skylights gave the ordinary warehouse an eerie gray appearance. The young man's footsteps were oddly silent as he moved through the hallways formed by stacks of crates, gun drawn. He looked like he was dressed for a job interview rather than combat, in a gray business suit, but his upcoming interview had but one motive: revenge.

He paused, his senses taking in his surroundings, and knew that this was the moment of truth. He knew approximately where she was and how many were with her. All that was left was to take one step forward. He stepped. Then, flicking his wrist, he slapped aside the throwing knife that was flying at him with the barrel of his gun.

They all attacked at the same time. There were six of them, two leaping down at him from above, four breaking cover and charging. They were six female ninja, all looking in their late teens. Each was dressed in a short, tight wrap going down to just below her buttocks, and white panties. The wrap was open in front but belted at the waist by a narrow belt, and the panties showed between the flaps of the wrap. White bands of cloth were wrapped around their forearms and lower calves. All were barefoot. Their hair styles, too, were identical, each girl's hair going down to the small of her back, and held back by a headband. Each wielded a tanto: a single-edged knife with a foot-long blade. That meant that his was the only gun in the vicinity. He would have to budget his ammo.

He jumped forward, pushing off at a slight angle to spin in the air. The one leaping from above and to the right slashed and missed. She landed in a crouch. He twisted in the air, to point his gun at the other ninja, who had jumped from her perch behind him. He fired one shot. It hit her low in her right breast, blood splattering over her top. He continued to rotate, rapidly firing once at each of the two ninja that were originally to his left. The first one was shot through the heart. She gasped as the wound between her breasts spurted blood. She managed two more steps, but her life was over. The second one tried to roll to avoid the shot, and was hit in her left shoulder.

He rolled as he landed, passing under a slash from the ninja on his right, firing twice at the ninja in front of him as he rose. The first shot hit her to the left and below her navel, snapping her belt. The second shot hit her in the upper abdomen, just under her left ribs. She was momentarily stunned, as her no-longer-restrained bloodied top flew open, revealing what little it had been concealing of her athletic figure.

The ninja on his right lashed out again with her tanto. He blocked the slash with the barrel of his handgun. He aimed a punch at her right temple as he rose, gun still locked against tanto. She tilted her head to avoid it and lashed out with her left hand to strike at his right flank. His swing was merely a distraction, however, and her fatal mistake was forgetting that the barrel of the gun was not as dangerous as its end: he pivoted the gun, with the tanto as the fulcrum, until it pointed at her face, and pulled the trigger. Her attack was aborted, droplets of blood and brain spattering on his gun hand.

The dead ninja pitched back, messily shot between the eyes. He continued his motion, narrowly evading a thrust from behind, from the ninja he had hit in the shoulder earlier. It opened a long gash in his suit, though not his flesh. He turned again and fired at her as she was recovering from her thrust, having overextended herself in trying to reach him faster. She was half-turned, so the bullet struck her in her lower-left ribs, lodging in the upper abdomen. He retreated, as the remaining ninja tried once again to encircle him, but then, he spotted his real target.

He had only seen blurry photographs of her before, and now she was standing on a container, watching the fight below. The woman looked slightly older than those he was fighting, and was about his height, with a narrow face, and commanding bearing. Her skimpy clothes were of the same cut as those of her minions, but her wrap shimmered slightly, being of fine silk. In the moonlight, he could not see the colors, but he knew that it was jade green, with dragons embroidered in gold thread. He guessed that the pedicured toenails of her bare feet were painted the same color.

He had a momentary clear shot, but when he shifted his gun just slightly, to begin to aim for her form, she read the motion and ducked behind another crate. In the next moment, he paid for this distraction, as a jump-kick from the left and behind caught him completely unprepared. It was his only unharmed attacker: the ninja that had tried to ambush him from the right. He rolled with the kick instinctively as her foot made contact with his ribs, knocking him forward. As he hit the ground, he could feel that at least one rib was cracked.

He used the momentum of his roll to get back up. Two of his foes were on him as the as he regained his footing. On his right was the girl who had jumped at him from behind, bloodstain growing over her right breast. On his left, the girl whose top was open. A stream of blood flowed down her abdomen, not obstructed by cloth, and another lower, soaking her panties. He dodged the slash from the one on the right and pistol-whipped her. Her head rocked back, a few drops of blood flying from the split lip. This gave him a chance to block the slash from the one on the left with the barrel of his gun. She surprised him, letting go of her weapon and grasping his wrist, pushing off with her feet to tackle him. Her left arm snaked around his right shoulder, in almost an embrace, her bared breasts pushing against his chest and their faces inches apart, as he staggered back, trying to stay on his feet.

He pulled the trigger, the bullet ripping into her stomach at a steep angle. She held on, her pretty face set in a mask of determination. He managed to heave her to the side, interposing her between himself and the other attacker to buy himself a few moments, wincing as his ribs reacted to the exertion. In the meantime, she managed to bring her arm into a stronger embrace, pressing herself against him harder. He could feel the girl's labored breath on his face, a drop of blood appearing on her lip. He fired again, and the girl's legs jerked once and went limp: the bullet damaged her spine. She maintained her hold, but her strength was waning rapidly.

Not rapidly enough, as the ninja who had jump-kicked him rejoined the fray. He was attacked from two sides, but his back was to a container. Desperately he jumped away from the new threat and her slash passed inches away from the back of his neck. His luck held as he barreled into the other girl, pushing her dying teammate into her and onto her blade. She fell back. He shifted his weight, passing her on the side. His arm stretched, firing into her temple as she fell. She was killed instantly, with the almost point-blank shot, her brain splattered on the side of the container.

Only two minions remained alive, one wounded in the shoulder and lower ribs, the other unharmed. His gun's magazine was almost empty, however, and they would hardly give him a chance to reload. At the same time, he noticed that their leader was once again observing the battle, standing atop another crate. Yet, he knew that she would hide at the first sign that he was targeting her. He had a better idea.

The unharmed ninja pursued him. Over a few seconds, he parried her attacks with the barrel of his gun. She was careful to keep it from pointing at her, and the fact that her weapon was bladed and his was not gave her some control over this, though she was suspicious that he was holding back for some reason. Through parrying and dodging, they had switched positions, so that the other surviving minion was running at him from behind, and he had retreated to where his previous two kills lay. This suited her fine. The twice-wounded ninja reached the fray, thrusting at his back.

...
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Posted by on in Amazon Combat

I wake up to the sounds of klaxxons blaring. Red light sweeps across the barrack room me and my sister-troopers had been assigned.

 "Incoming Rebel Attack" a robotic voice declares, its monotone expression sounding disinterested. The message repeats as I push myself out of my bed, my naked body trembling with excitement.

"Come on, bitches! Battlestations!" My commander's voice prompts me to move faster as she steps into the room. I slide the white briefs of my uniform up my legs, settling them across my firm ass and hips even as the commander storms across the room to ensure we weren't slacking. "Those rebel sluts think they can just take our ship? We'll show them what the Empire thinks of their shitty little plans!"

We dress quickly, though several girls get a sharp crack of the commander's baton as a reminder that the Empire didn't tolerate lollygagging. As I pull my black top over my head, settling it across the humps of my B-cup breasts, I can't help but notice the way my hard nipples poke through the otherwise smoothly drawn fabric; I couldn't wait to kill some rebels!

"T44, T94 & T100. Report to Airlock 54 and join-up with the defending force there. Those sluts are gonna try to board us, you make sure they don't." Three girls snap quick salutes and hurry from the room. "T55 & T63, they need extra gun crews on the starboard side. Get over there and fry anything that comes within range of the ship" I stand up tall and salute, though I hadn't even had time to get my boots on. I hurry out wearing only the black stockings that normally went under our armoured boots; I wouldn't need them where I was going anyway.

The ship is large, one of the new Imperial cruisers meant to supplement the larger Destroyers. We weren't as well armoured, but the ship could repel most attacks on its own. I had been assigned to it only a week earlier, fresh from the training center and eager to distinguish myself in battle! Now the entire place was in an uproar. Red flashing lights bathed the scene with a blood-like tint that only heightened the peak of adrenaline coursing through me.

A small troop of girls in black leotards and tall boots march past me in one of the wide corridors, all of them holding helmets under their arms; pilots! Their designations match those of us troopers, but the T replaced with a P, and their heads held higher; I wanted to be one so badly! I watch them go before T63 pushes me along, "Hurry up, stupid, before they discard us both for dereliction!" I shudder at the thought; dereliction of duty by a clone-trooper was usually punished by immediate disintegration... I'd seen a few girls be discarded, nothing left of them but smoking ash-filled boots... I hurry.

The gun battery is in full operation by the time I arrive, and the commanding officer quickly has us in place. The guns are manned individually, each girl sitting back in a bucket-reared seat facing a control panel and a pair of large sticks, each capped by a blinking red button. As I sit, the control panel crackles to life and I'm looking outside the ship! Enemy fighters are everywhere! Our own fighters are marked by green outlines to ensure we don't fire on them.

"Fire at will, bitches!"

I do just that. My seat rumbles a little with each shot, bringing a blush to my lightly freckled cheeks as I focus on what I'm shooting at. I can't see the pilots of the ships, but as I put a stream of red-coloured laserfire through the hull of an enemy fighter, I can only imagine the look on the pilot's face. I gasp softly as the fighter explodes, sending chunks of debris sprialing lazily away into space.

There! Another one! I open fire and I'm rewarded by the fighter dissolving into a streaking fireball, the girl inside it no doubt shrieking in horror for the second or two she's given before the entire thing explodes, and she's reduced to space-dust.

I fall into the flow of it easily. Fighter after fighter falls to my lasers, but there're so many more to replace them! Our own fighters continue to fight, but the number of green-lit ships on my screen begins to dwindle. I think of the pilots I'd seen heading for their ships on my way to the guns; the way their bodies had been shaped by the tightly stretched lycra-like leotards they'd worn, the small pistols bouncing in their leg holsters, the way they'd carried themselves so proudly... were all of those girls dead yet? I shiver in my seat even as another blast of laser fire causes it to rumble beneath me. I can feel the slight dampness of my panties as they cling to my aroused skin; this was even better than I thought it'd be!

My inattention nearly costs me. An enemy fighter squadron had been assigned to quiet our guns! They open fire, sending torpedoes and laser fire directly into our array of weapons. I open fire once more, but it's too late to stop them! A girl several seats over shrieks out a submissive, "NYAAAAAAHHH!" as her gun is destroyed, sending electrical feedback through her system and filling the short blonde's body with deadly electricity. She's cooked on the spot! Her body shakes, tits jostling in her tight top, and her tongue hanging out of her mouth stupidly as she stares wide-eyed at the crackling monitor. Finally, she topples forward, face-planting into the controls.

A brunette nearby suffers a similar fate, jerking and writhing in her chair as her deathcry fills the air. "AIIIIIIEEE!!!" Gritting her teeth, the brunette dies with a look of agony on her face, slumping back in her chair with her legs wide and her panties soaked by a final humiliating orgasm.

Nearly 10 of our 24 guns are destroyed, the girls manning them screaming as they die. Each of us continues to fire, however, as though unaware of the girls dying around us. Each look of determination remains solid until it's that girl's turn to shriek and dance in their seat.

...
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Posted by on in Amazon Combat

Just something I wrote quickly as a present for Raul in return for all of his fantastic Imperial Trooper vs. Rebel pictures. :)

I thought I'd share it with you guys as well!

 

_____________________________________

 

It's hot! The heat surrounds us, sticking to our skin tighter than the black tops and white panties we wear. My armour is stifling as I trek through the jungle with my sisters. Swatting at bugs, I grumble in annoyance.

"What was that, slut!?" Yells an older trooper near the front of our column, the sergeant looking back as she shouts. I fall quiet immediately, but I'm not the only one getting fed up of trekking through the mud and bugs!

I swat at a mosquito the size of my fist and resist the urge to use my blaster! We were supposed to be sneaking up on the fort of a native species to this planet though. The primitive bitches wouldn't clear out when we showed up, and now the Empress wanted us to remove them by force!

There are a couple of hundred of us, but it shouldn't take that many. The amazon sluts didn't even have guns! They still used bows and arrows, this was going to be a cakewalk.... if we ever got there!

"AIIIIIIIE!" A shriek from nearby has everyone raise their weapons, ready to fight... but there's no enemy! A blonde trooper, her young perky tits heaving against her black top had been grabbed by a hefty snake-like creature hanging from a tree.

"Help me!" she cries out as the snake-thing wraps its long body around her, cocooning her in its tight embrace while holding her by the neck as she's lifted off of her feet. She's practically crying, but the sergeant raises her hand... we're not to help her; if we fired, it may alert the amazons to our presence! The blonde girl cries out again as the snake begins to squeeze her violently, her arms up to try and pry it away but it's too strong. I can only watch--feeling the dampness in my panties--as she's slowly hauled up into the foliage far above.

About halfway up her struggles stop, her eyes staring down blankly as her tongue hangs out of her mouth; she was snake food now, and the dribble of cum running down her inner thigh glistens in the light. I shudder with a taboo excitement at the thought of the snake devouring the young blonde...

We've lost a number of troopers to predators along the way, and a small squad had gotten their dumb selves caught in quicksand. We still had plenty to get the job done though!

Arrows suddenly fill the air though! These were from predators of a different sort.

"URRRRGH!" a trooper takes an arrow right between her plump breasts, her finger squeezing the trigger of her blaster as it spasms from the pain filling her body. She falls to her knees, then falls face-down in the mud. I jump over her body, looking for cover as more arrows fill the air!

"YAAAAAAI!" A tall brunette beside me with a green barette in her hair takes an arrow to her belly, her eyes wide as she looks down at it in surprise and shock! A second arrow takes her quickly in the throat, and she gurgles out a trickle of blood as her eyes roll back into her head and she collapses backwards. The girl's legs kick up a bit, her white panties marked by mud and cum as she dies on her back like the slut she was!

Girls are dying all around me now. I slide into cover behind a fallen tree, but behind me over a dozen troopers are dead in the mud. A blonde's blue eyes stare at me silently as she lays across the body of a dying redhead, and I stare back, trying not to notice the arrow sticking out of the girl's back.

"Form up, return fire!" shouts the sergeant, firing wildly into the trees as she does. The arrows are coming from above us! I look up and see movement. I raise my blaster, but the target disappears before I can fire. Frantic, I look about as the deathscreams of my sisters fill the air.

"GRAAAAAAAG--" a black-haired trooper clutches at the arrow buried in her guts, only to have a second and third one plunge into her chest, spearing her tits and killing her instantly. She falls back into a pile with three other dead troopers, the pile of cooling meat providing cover for another trooper who had thought to duck behind it.

"FIRE YOU DUMB BITCHES!" cries the sergeant again, and I follow her order!

My lasers blast into the trees and I'm rewarded by a high-pitched shriek as a body tumbles nearly thirty feet to the muck below. She's tall, blonde, and almost naked! The girl wears only a grey loincloth as she writhes in the mud and soon dies. Fried one!

The surviving troopers soon spread out. We'd have reinforcements in minutes, but for now we were on our own! We fire, and start getting kills, but continue taking losses.

A redhead who looks a year or two older than me slides into cover right beside me. As she sits up to fire, she takes an arrow to her throat! I glance over, but continue to fire, as she chokes and clutches at the arrow. Her eyes look to me, as if I could help her! Soon, she falls forward over the log we'd been behind, her ass in the air and her head and arms dangling downwards. She dies like that, and I can smell her climax as her twitching body finally falls still! I can't help myself and slap her dead ass with a smirk, and take her gun in case I needed the ammo!

"T55! T02! T94! T63 & T88!" the sergeant cries out, "Push forward! Break out of the ring they've formed and flank them!"

I gulp as the other troopers called move into position. Even as an arrow whizzes past my head, I hurry to follow them. The rest of my sisters continue to hold their positions, firing into the trees and occasionally striking one of the beautiful amazon girls who were slaughtering us! I can see several corpses caught in the branches overhead, smoke rising from their scorched, naked flesh.

Jumping over several trooper corpses, their young bodies flat in the mud and their clean uniforms soiled by dirt and blood, we push forward! Suddenly, arrows are flying at US! We don't stand a chance!

T02, a young blonde with a pink barette in her long hair, takes an arrow to one breast. Her charge falters, her scream loud and piercing before a second arrow slams into her belly. Her panties are dark with cum as she thrusts her hips forward, "URRRRRAAAA!!!" she howls as she falls into the mud.

T88 doesn't get much farther, the brunette taking a pair of arrows to her chest, and a third to her shoulder. She spins as she falls, her blaster flying from her hands. "AIIIIIIE!" She lands ontop of T02, their bodies twitching and heaving as they die.

The three survivors, myself included, panic, our charge broken as we stop to fire upwards. T94 takes an arrow between her shoulderblades. Her chest thrusts forward as she screams out in pain, blood running down her back. A second arrow hits the small of her back, and her knees buckle, "GAAAAAARRGGGH...." her guttural cry cut short by a third arrow hitting her neck from the side. The braided redhair of the trooper flips about as her neck twists to the side and she falls sideways into the mud.

I clench my teeth, my panties soaking wet with anticipation now. Then I'm hit! An arrow hits me right below my right breast. My whole body seizes up as I gasp out, then I'm hit again in the belly!

"N-NYAAAAAAH!" I can't hold in my shriek as I realize I'd just been killed! My blaster goes off twice more as my hand cramps up and my muscles tighten. My eyes clench shut as I feel my balance give way, pain exploding in my mind as I fall backwards! I land on something soft, but I'm too busy cumming hard to wonder what it is. My panties are a mess, the white fabric clinging to my skin.

The position I'd landed in makes a spectacle of my poor cum-soaked panties, my legs spread and my hips lifted as I lay atop the bodies of T02 & T88. I gasp and choke, staring at the arrows jutting up from my body even as my vision starts to darken! Oh god! I was in a bodypile. A second orgasm rips through me as I realize I was going to die piled up like meat with the other two girls!

Grinding my teeth against the pain, I realize my blaster has fallen out of my hands, my whole body seems heavy I could just... relax... here... my hands fall limply to my sides, my head falling back to rest on the belly of T88.

"Fuck! Stupid bitches!" the sergeant yells as she watches T55's twitching, arrow-riddled body stop moving. T63 goes down last, an arrow in her throat for her to choke on as she dies. "T44, T24, T78, T90 & T97! Your turn! Try not to fuck it up like those sluts did!"

I'm already dead though, and can't hear them. The battle is eventually won for the Empire, and the fort is taken... but with heavy casualties...

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Today was a good battle, thought Little Panther as she scavenged across the sight of the great battle that had occurred three hours ago.

The young Dark Skin warrior walked amongst the bodies of her fallen sisters and the dead red skinned amazons that littered the ground outside the walls of the abandoned fortress her sisters had occupied after the women from the Kingdom across the ocean had been all killed off.

Her sisters were once three hundred strong, but they had lost twenty good sisters today as they defended the fortress walls from their neighboring rivals from a red skin clans who wanted the fortress as well. But the red skin amazons lost four hundred of their sisters, just trying to scale the wall and break the wooden door.

Little Panther was one of three of her sisters scavenging the fields in front of the wall. The two sisters were much older than Little Panther, who was still young and foolish. The teenager's breasts were still small, but she was old enough to be a warrior. Her hair was tied into several smaller braids that went passed her shoulders. She wore a loincloth that barely covered her front side, making her a easy target for lustful amazons, her petite frame left her even more exposed.

The young dark skin walked aways a way from the wall, approaching a cluster of dead red skins who had been carrying a ladder, but none of them made it far. Little Panther saw one dead Red skin, her age, who was neither thin not heavy but still beautiful, laying on her side, clutching her stomach where an arrow struck her.

Little Panther pushed the arm of a red skin off of the younger red skin's shoulder and flipped the dead girl on her back, removing the arrow, allowing the young dark skin to examine the body that was adorned in red war paint.

Grinning at her find, the dark skin pulled her flint knife out, and cut the dead girl's loincloth off and proceeded to fling the girl over her shoulder, and walked quickly back to the fortress with her prize.

That night: Little Panther was on the wall, looking out at the night covered plains with her older sisters, who she laughed with. All the while she say on her prize, enjoying the feeling of the red skin's skin touching her butt. When it was time for bed: she lay on top of the body, feeling the girl's hair and imagining her when she was alive.

...

The next morning: Little Panther was awoken with one of her sister's shaking her shoulder urgently. Little Panther shook off her fatigue, grabbed her spear and stood up, looking over the wall that now had the bodies of some of the red skins and her sisters who died yesterday, acting as additional cover.

Standing beside her sister, who was heavy set and a year older than Little Panther: She saw a sight that made her, and all her sisters, blood run cold. Assembled before the fortress yards away were thousands of red skins. Little Panther swallowed as she flung her prize from the other day over the wall, stacking her on top of a red skin who had a mohawk.

When the chiefs of the thousand warriors signaled the warriors to attack: the sound of a large echoing war cry filled the air as the warriors, on foot and horse back, charged.

Little Panther and her heavy sister and their sisters on their wall stayed on their position on the walls, shooting arrows at the warriors that threatened to get close, knocking over ladders and women to the ground.

Eventually however Little Panther's heavy sister ran out of arrows, forcing the fat woman to drop her bow and go over to a near by spear rack and pickup a spear. Only for a red skin woman to manage to climb up the wall while Little Panther and the rest of her sisters on the wall were busy and run up behind her, and smash a hatchet into the back of the fat woman' shoulders. The fat woman screamed, alerting Little Panther, who sent an arrow into the red skin's throat. Both the fat woman and the red skin fell to the floor, the red skin laying on top of her victim.

With the death of their fat, but beautiful, sister: more dark skinned sisters began to die as they became overwhelmed. Even with the arrival of the chief to their wall was not enough. With only six sisters left on the wall, Little Panther became frightened, hiding behind the red skin's body she had collected yesterday, she felt a strong hand grab her, she looked to see it was her chief, a young and brash chief that had gotten all of her sisters into this mess. She was bald but wore a feather headdress.

...
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Posted by on in Bloody Death

So. I wrote this one not too long ago.

Unlike my other stories, I decided not to edit this one to make everyone human. If people strongly want it that way, I can, but I've noticed that new furry artists have been getting some attention so I don't feel like I need to hide the furry-nature of my writing anymore.

I want people to enjoy these stories though, so if there's requests for a human-version, I'll gladly oblige. :)

A young punk-rocker enters a local battle of the bands contest, only to find herself bumped out of contention at the end of a knife!

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The Noisy Fucks were twenty feet away.

Their hair was greying, and their clean-shaven faces showed a mid-life geared towards proper morning routines rather than angry, objectiveless, rebellion. They still moved like they cared though, and for Kaira that was more than enough; the heavy-set Fenders squealing in their hands didn’t hurt either.

The dancefloor of the cramped London club didn’t seem to mind that the rockers on stage had more in common these days with their parents than The Sex Pistols. Still the dancers moved, heavy boots thumping against a wooden floor which had been shabbily adorned with a thick layer of black paint; the whole place reeked of the matching, stale, black paint which covered the walls as well, mingling with the scent of cheap beer and old cigarettes. Kaira’s black fur blended well with her surroundings, and only the slash of blue provided by her painstakingly straightened hair and exposed chest stood out at all.

Her body wasn’t immune to the screeching demands of the band on stage, and she danced in the small bubble of space she’d secured for herself in the crowd. Their music throbbed in the air like an angry tumor, stretching out as it sought to spread and infect those dancing, and Kaira was right there with them.

“Fuck you fucks, we’re gonna’ kick it down’!”, the podgy looking tiger warned from his position on-stage, the microphone distorting his voice to make it sound younger than it was. Their frontman couldn’t sing very well, but talent was so over-rated in this scene. The Noisy Fucks had been her idols for most of Kaira’s life, and now she was here listening to them live! Not only was she here listening to them, but she was here to compete in a Battle of the Bands hosted by them! Body pressing against an obsidian coloured pillar, the trim feline watched them move, soaking in the experience as she caught her breath.

“Lost, kitten?” A voice behind Kaira fought against the oppressive totality of the band’s frantic drumming. Coming from only a few inches away, Kaira still almost missed it. Only the whispering passage of something lightly brushing over the back of her neck secured Kaira’s attention. Turning, the girl grinned as a matter of nature; there was no surprise or concern in her smoky purple eyes.

“Only in this riff” Kaira answered snappily. The black and white English Setter who loomed over the feline chortled out before trailing off into a half-drunken slur. Despite the rough face, pinched eyes and inebriated leer, Kaira knew right away she was speaking to another woman. A black leather jacket hung on the canine’s shoulders, concealing most of a ratty white t-shirt beneath it. Skinny jeans which matched the jacket’s colour, though not its material, left a swath of bellyfur--slightly bulging from the paunch of the Setter’s gut--exposed. The dog looked hard and experienced, as though she were deep in her element in the Bromley dive bar.

“Just askin’, luv. You look a little outta place; pretty little thing like you oughta be at home, not rubbin’ shoulders with our lot.” The condescension those words should have carried was replaced, instead, with an almost playful quality. One of the Setter’s arms came up, pressing against the pillar Kaira’s back now leaned against. The feline fought the blush which wanted to creep into her cheeks. The tartan-patterned pleated skirt the catgirl wore wavered gently as she pushed off from the pillar to stand her full height; she still had to tilt her head back to look the other female in the eye.

“I’m competing tonight, so shit on you.” Like the Setter’s words, Kaira’s were devoid of the emotion one would expect of them. There was a confidence behind them that demanded respect, not submission or humiliation. The Setter heard it, and allowed herself a grin.

"A spine! Wonder what else you’ve got hidin’ under all those clothes.” The stink of a half dozen beers washed over Kaira as the Setter’s lopsided grin dropped to within an inch of her upturned nose. Despite herself, Kaira felt her nipples harden--caused, perhaps, by the draft the old bar let wander through it--as the larger female bore down on her. The thin white crop top Kaira wore rustled softly against her small breasts as thick leather rubbed against it. “Whats say we find out, eh?” The smell of that beer wrinkled Kaira’s nose, but she wasn’t entirely sober herself and the stress of her upcoming set goaded her towards poor decisions.

“Only if you can find your way under them” Kaira replied before pressing her lips roughly against the Setter’s. Calloused hands closed around the catgirl’s sides, her blue hair spilling back as the size difference forced her head to tilt back even further in order to reach the taller canine’s mouth.

There was little challenge in Kaira’s demand. The girl’s crop top laid her trim belly bare, the sleeveless shirt only covering her undersized breasts and thin strips along her shoulders. The jagged patch of blue fur which ran down her chest, before ending several inches above the waist of her skirt, practically invited one of the Setter’s hands to slide along its smooth expanse; the canine did not disappoint it. The illusion of height was granted by a pair of thick-soled heeled Chucks, the dirt-scuffed sneakers adding a few inches to Kaira’s unimpressive natural height. The illusion was aided by the black and white striped stockings she wore, her thin legs grasped tightly by the smooth silky socks right up to mid-thigh.

Pressing her shoulders back against the pillar, Kaira used it as a brace to support herself against the heavy canine muzzle locking against her smaller, blunt feline snout. The short girl’s body arched against the strong hands caressing the sensitive contours of her hips. The tartan skirt did little to protect her modesty--despite the gold safety pin holding it in one piece--as it rode up while Kaira rubbed against the black pillar. The delicate fabric of her pink and white striped panties seemed to glisten in the dim lighting of the bar, the sweat on her thighs enhancing the glimmering effect.

“Backstage” panted the Setter, finally breaking the kiss. Her brown eyes remained locked on Kaira’s purple ones. The feline balked only long enough to ask a single question.

“How? You can’t get in with my pass.”

“I know the bouncer. Don’t worry.” The Setter’s casual answer was enough for the lust-stricken feline. Hand in hand, they slid through the crowd, a few stray hands finding the back of one of Kaira’s thighs or the round swell of a hip as the pair moved past. The sound of the band grew louder until the earsplitting cacophony of the electric guitars seemed to fill Kaira’s head, like a syringe of water being forced into a balloon; she was sure her head would pop any second!

The bouncer nodded lazily as the pair approached. A small rickety stairway led several feet up before opening up into the backstage area. Certain she’d have to argue for the Setter to be let in, the catgirl fumbled for her pass, only to find herself being whisked past the grinning English Mastiff without a word.

Questions died on Kaira’s lips as they were smothered by the heavy, pointed muzzle of the Setter. Encased in the dim shadows which filled the backstage area, the two women bundled themselves together in an out of the way corner. The sounds of stagehands replaced the grating rock of the band’s set as it came to an end. The competition would be starting up next, but Kaira was far more concerned with the beer-tinged breath tickling at her whiskers. Lusty little pants of appreciation punctuated each tongue-locked kiss from both of the horny girls, their tails curling and twisting as though playing out the overpowering emotions racing through their trembling bodies.

A firm bite of Kaira’s neck drew a nervous little groan of pleasure from the catgirl. A stagehand--a lanky Scottish Fold--twitched his distinctive feline ears as he glanced towards the sight of the two women entangled in each other’s embrace. A grin crossing his lips, the boy slowed just long enough to appreciate the view--and to consider trying to worm his way in on the fun--before remembering his duties and hurrying away.

The first band on the docket took the stage as the Setter’s surprisingly well-manicured fingers slid down to the waist of Kaira’s skirt. The feline’s hips pushed forward as best they could, as if inviting what they both knew would come next. Head twisting slightly despite the firm grip the Setter’s teeth still held on her throat, Kaira had to fight off a cry of pleasure which bubbled in her throat when those fingers slid beneath her skirt. The catgirl’s legs spread obediently, trembling within the confines of her thigh-high stockings. The Setter’s two longest fingers remained tightly squeezed together as they stroked along the crotch of Kaira’s panties. The sensitive flesh beneath the soft fabric was already hot with the girl’s desire, and the simple touch sent a spasm of pleasure racing through her clenched belly.

The bite was soon released, but those fingers continued to stroke at Kaira’s increasingly damp folds with reckless abandon. The force and friction of the touch drew heated gasps from the catgirl, her eyes closing as she surrendered to the rough treatment.

“Just warming you up, kitten.” The canine’s somewhat guttural assurance drew a nod from Kaira, unable to speak as she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out again. Nipples pressing against her thin shirt like little pebbles, Kaira allowed herself to be turned to face the wall. The Setter’s body pressed against her back, the larger female’s belt buckle easily felt as she ground her hips against the feline’s perky ass. When her skirt was lifted Kaira blushed but made no move to stop it. The feline’s pink and white clad ass was free for anyone to see, despite the body pressing against it. The delicate panties did little to defend Kaira from the unexpected pleasure of a hard spank against it by one of the Setter’s hands. Choking down a cry, another hard swat of her quivering behind had Kaira’s chest pressing forcefully against the wall she was facing!

The spanking continued, building in intensity until Kaira’s ass was both hot and numb at the same time. Blood pounded in her ears and despite her vulnerable position Kaira could only writhe on her feet, legs spread and hips pushed back expectantly for another smack; she was remotely aware of how wet her panties had grown over the last few minutes, the fabric dark with the flow of her juices. Finally, the spanking stopped, and only a pins-and-needles sense of discomfort lingered. Gasping for breath, the catgirl was surprised to feel sweat trickling down her forehead, her tongue running listlessly over her too-dry lips.

The first band had finished its song to a lukewarm response from the crowd, and as they trudged off stage a few smirked at the scene unfolding in the corner. The Setter’s hand gave the stinging flesh of Kaira’s behind a reassuring stroke before pushing the catgirl’s panties down to her knees. Cool air replaced the warm moisture which had been pressed against her pussy, and Kaira shivered uncontrollably at the feeling. The Setter’s hand slid between the girl’s spread thighs, feeling along them as though searching for something they both knew she would find. When the first finger entered her, Kaira’s upper-body thrust forward once again, her body locked in an arch that made easy prey of her captured vagina.

Mouth open, eyes closed, and lips pulled back to reveal her sharp feline teeth, Kaira cried out silently into the musty air as the Setter’s fingers explored inside her. The folds of her womanhood opened easily for the canine’s questing digits, the walls of her cervix contracting involuntarily around the intruding fingers. When they pushed roughly upwards, there was no way Kaira could keep herself from moaning loudly; the sound was met with a few chuckles from several stagehands who had stopped to watch. Only the bellowing of the stage director tore them from the scene, and once more the Setter and Kaira were left alone.

“F-Fuck!” Kaira’s simple pronouncement preceded a sudden gush of juices cascading around the Setter’s fingers. An orgasm ripped its way through Kaira like a typhoon leveling an island village, her nerves seeking shelter only to be swept away by the rising tides and ferocious winds of ecstasy. Her ass quivered, and the panties looped around her spread knees grew taut. Her body tensed up, moving without regard for her actual situation and instead playing out the delightful throes of a thunderous climax. The fingers didn’t stop, continuing to pump the climaxing feline until a second delirious explosion went off in Kaira’s mind. She was practically screaming now, dignity lost and not missed in the least as the catgirl rocked her way through another orgasm.

The Setter’s hand finally pulled free of Kaira, the musk of the cat’s juices filling her nose as the two fingers were lifted to the feline’s muzzle.

 “Want a taste, kitten?” The Setter’s face had grown hard, though Kaira was still facing the wall and couldn’t see it. Sweating, panting and disheveled, Kaira took the canine’s intent and ran her tongue over the fingers, tasting her own feminine cum on those musky fingertips. “Good girl.”

 Kaira turned, purple eyes half-lidded, and her skirt caught in a rumpled mess that left her bare pussy exposed. “I d-didn’t get your name…” she managed at last, the first vestiges of sense returning to her dazed expression.

“Chelsea”

“Chelsea. That’s a nice name” Kaira purred out.

“Chelsea Dagger” the Setter added as a sudden pain lanced through the tight muscles of Kaira’s belly. Eyes locked on the Setter’s, Kaira had failed to notice the six inch switchblade the Setter had pulled from her pocket; the spring-loaded blade popped out only a second before it disappeared into the girl’s gut. A shocked gasp, not entirely unlike her earlier gasps of pleasure, gurgled from Kaira’s throat. Bodies still pressed together, no-one else could see the sudden turn of events. Kaira’s eyes were wide and staring as they searched the canine’s face, looking for some indication of why this had just happened! Instead, all she got was another lance of pain as the blade was twisted and removed before being plunged back in only inches from her bellybutton.

 “Errrragh…” Kaira moaned out, the feeling of blood pouring down her lower belly and soaking into her red tartan skirt giving her the impression that she was wetting herself.

You shoulda asked how I knew the bouncer, kitten”, growled the dog. “I’m competing tonight too, just like I do every year. I always win, too; of course, sometimes that’s just ‘cause I know how to alter the field to my liking…. like, say, removing a few competitors before they can challenge me.” The Setter’s predatory grin filled Kaira’s eyes, reflected in her pupils so vividly the Setter could see it herself.

“Urrrk…” Kaira choked out, shock taking away her speech as surely as the injuries would take her life if left untreated. Her panties still around her knees, the girl nearly tripped because of them as she tried to push away from her assailant. One final stab of that knife ensured Kaira’s fate. She wanted to scream, but all that came out was a bubbling sigh of despair. Blood trickling from a corner of her mouth, the catgirl was released from the Setter’s grip.

“Enjoy the show, bitch” the Setter called back as she disappeared down the stairs without a look back. Kaira was left alone backstage, her guts on fire and blood pumping from her ruined belly. In the dim light nobody seemed to notice her, and the bleeding wounds were simply glistening patches of slightly darker fur. Kaira stumbled for the stairs first, but her body seemed to have lost the ability to follow commands. Instead, she found herself stumbling onto the stage itself. The current band had already begun their song, and as the dying girl broke in on them they didn’t falter.

Glances from the guitarist and drummer took in the sight of the heavily bleeding feline with a surprising lack of interest. The crowd, which had been languishing through the generic song being performed on stage, suddenly burst into life. Thinking, perhaps, that this was part of the set, they roared their approval of the woefully exposed feline, taking in the sight of her bunched panties and uncovered pussy with an interest the band imagined was for their playing. Their song built in intensity as they fed off of the sudden enthusiasm of the crowd. Through all of it, Kaira struggled to breathe. Her body was shutting down its various systems, like a computer trying to conserve energy, as the shock built and thrashed her.

Lifting her bloodstained hands to her face, the catgirl’s eyes rolled up and she toppled forward. Landing facedown over a bank of waist-high amplifiers, the catgirl’s skirt did nothing to protect her pussy and buttcheeks from the hungry eyes of the audience. She was dimly aware of a coldness in her chest as she stared at the floor, her arms dangling to either side of her head, and her hair hanging down to cover her face. Before she passed out, the girl was horrified to feel her tongue fall free from her muzzle, muscles unable to keep it in place as it jutted from between her dying lips; still the crowd cheered. She died to the sound of the audience’s approval, only a few questioning whether the girl on stage were really part of the show or not.

It wasn’t until after the show that the question was answered. That a girl had died on stage wasn’t as much a tragedy as it was a sign that the show would be a memorable one! The band who had been playing when she’d died were declared the winners, based solely on the thrill of Kaira’s short-lived time in the spotlight; the Setter left disgusted at her plan being undone by the unexpected turn of events.

Kaira, however, earned something of her own that night. As her cooling corpse was removed from the stage, hoisted by her shoulders and her spread knees by two hulking stagehands, the feline--not through any particular talent of her own--had become a punk rock legend; nobody would ever know her name, but for years they’d be talking about that fine piece of ass on stage at the Noisy Fucks’ Battle of the Bands.

 

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Posted by on in Uncategorized

Intro
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The young women had followed after the doe for their third hour now. A lovely and busty young blonde woman with big blue eyes. She did not know the hunters were there, it was a simple habit and maybe some sort of six sense intuition that kept the girl on the move.
She seemed relaxed enough, taking the time to frolick among the soft star-moss and grass and drink from a small stream before skipping further away from her hunters. An almost effortless choir for her but a terrible burden for the women hunting her. They had to keep pace with their quarry at a brisk pace, all the while keeping concealed in thick foliage and taking care to move silently through twigs, broken branches, and loose rustling leaves.

The two women hunting the nude doe were cousins, College sorority girls through and through who secretly harbored a little wild outdoorsy bend with a taste for more un-restrained stimulation. That is why this un-lady like sport with a cruel predatory twist held such allure for them. A chance to be one of the boys and experiment with small budding sadistic tendencies.

They both attended the same college. The first girl was a vivacious and lusty redhead. A nineteen year old college freshman and a sporty type of girl, she had participated in archery in high school and it was her who had suggested the hunt.

Her cousin, a more girly-girl type had been fascinated with secretly sneaking out for a hunting expedition over her three day weekend and then quietly returning to her classes, internship, and party life with none of her friends being the wiser. A twenty one year old junior she was just as blonde and shapely as the woman the girls were trying to hunt. They closed in on the blonde woman and she knelt to study some particularly attractive wild flowers growing in a spot of light that seeped in through an opening in the deep woods foliage. Suddenly she had lost interest and raising her curvacious nude form back up she skipped merrily out of range again.

Hunt
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The older huntress shook her head and blew a gust of air up and over her forehead, knocking her blond bangs out of her eyes. "This is not at all what I was hoping for, Why don't we just let this one go and track down some of those brunettes we saw awhile ago?"
The younger woman grimaced. "Their not as pretty, and besides the point of 'hunting' is to hunt. You get the excitement and the rush from finally making a kill that you thought you couldn't get.
Laura the blonde rolled her eyes. "We've been staring at this chicks rump all day as she keeps moving and we haven't gotten to take a shot".
Her cousin returned a sympathetic smile. "I know but I want to take her. She's whats called a "trophy doe". When we bring her back to the lodge her body featured will be measured and recorded. Good legs, butt, and boobs not to mention low body fat will tell us how many points she's worth. We might even win a prize for bringing a girl with her figure back."
Laura sighed. "So we follow this frolicking bimbo all day and hope she dies of a stroke?" Amanda, her cousin rolled her eyes now. "We wait until were close enough... to take her". "Just get into the mood. Don't think about time or discomfort. Get excited and use the stimulation to enjoy the hunt."
"See?" Amanda pointed at her green tanktop. "my nips have been sticking through my shirt for the last ten minutes, we must be getting close to making a kill." Laura chuckled a little and followed her cousin as she silently darted after the blonde.

They found the leggy blonde in a small clearing, lying on her stomach and watching as small gathering of butterflies.

"Oh thats it sweety enjoy the view" Amanda whispered. Laura crept next to her cousin and responded in the hushed whisper tone they suddenly had started using. "What cup size do you think this girl is?"
"I don't know" Amanda responded under her breathe. " I doubt she would either. Doe's rarely wear clothes and it wouldn't be totally unheard of for one to live out her whole life without ever putting on some panties or a bra."
Laura suddenly felt a small tightness in her chest and found she was breathing a little heavier. "This is the longest time she has stopped yet!" She was still whispering in hushed tones. Amanda was fixed on the girl with her brown eyes. "She seems to go straight north, then west, then north, then west. She just went North if we sprint ahead and west we should be able to catch her coming towards us."
Laura Watched the young woman in the field. She was still laying on her stomach and her ankles were bent up into the air and back over towards her body. She peddled her legs closer to her buttocks and then back away playfully as she stared, deep in thought at the butterflies.
"If we don't kill her with the first shot will she get away?" Laura asked her younger cousin.

"Its pretty common that if even we hit her she will run for awhile. These women are pretty athletic and will usually sprint until their tired. Then we can close in and finish her. With that she stood up "Come on lets get into position"


The two women sneaked a distance to the west of the doe then quickly sprinted through the brush until they could barely see the light from the open clearing the woman was resting in. "Both girls were breathing hard and Amanda explained to Laura how to slow down her breathing and relax her body tension to regain quick composure." They had just managed to return to a resting state when they saw the bobbing figure of the girl as she pranced towards them, every now and then glancing over her shoulder to were the hunters would have been had they not switched their course. Even without knowing for sure if her would-be killers had ever been in the area the doe was a cautious and impish girl who usually trusted any suspicous inklings she received. This had served her well all twenty three years of her life and had dutifully given the female a small jolt of caution and energy. However Elly had over-thought her instinct. Trying to guess and maneuver on her own she stuck to her pattern and moved west away from where she assumed a theoretical hunter might be and closer to the two waiting young women preparing to take her.
---------------------------------------------------------------The approach
"Here she comes." Laura whispered with a rushed breathe. She could suddenly feel herself gulping in ragged bursts of air and could feel a cold sheen of perspiration on her forehead. Before she could understand what her body was telling her her nipples suddenly pushed into the soft fabric of her green T-shirt. "Oh this is weird," Laura spoke in a soft hushed tone. "I think I just got a lesbian boner or something".
Amanda looked over at her cousin and noticed the knitted brow and lilting eyelids. Indicative of sexual arousal. She felt it too and had for some time. "Its not all that uncommon to be turned on by the prospective of a kill. It gives you a shot of adrenaline, serotonin, and endorphines which can boost you reaction time and physical endurance and concentration. Don't shy away from it let yourself have the whole experience it will help you.
Amanda watched the girl as she came closer. Her large full breasts and flat stomach were taut and toned. Her powerful and athletic looking thighs would tense and relax each step and her well splayed hips gave her a seductive bikini model gate to her stride. Amanda found herself suddenly muttering like a old drunk hunter from the outdoor sportsmen channel "oh here we go, here she comes. Come on sweety get a little closer, thats a good girl, a little close cutey".
Laura was still breathing in short spastic breathes. "Shes a little hottie and a half, the boys are going to miss her tight little package."
"That is the truth if anything is! Amanda whispered back".
Amanda put a arrow into her bow and now she rested her rump on the side of her foot in a resting position. There was just enough room to pull the bowstring all the way back for a shot. Laura readied a arrow too, then turned to the younger woman. "I'm shaking a little bit and feel kinda buzzed, Do you want to take the shot?" Amanda adjusted her weight but never took her eyes of off Elly as she approached. "Yeah. I'll make the shot, just be ready if I don't hit, you shoot next. We need to at least tag her with a arrow to weaken her."
---------------------------------------------------------------The KiLL
Elly was only now the length of a small parking lot away and within bow range. "I'll try to hit her in the upper torso somewhere close to the center, I'm hoping for a chest shot." Laura watched fixated and nodded for a reply. "She's already close enough but I want to be sure." Amanda could hear laura's heavy breathing coming out with quick jerks and pauses.
She waited for as long as she thought she could without giving themselves away. "This should do, Amanda whispered. "I'll take her now". With that Amanda took aim at Elly's center and slowly relaxed the muscles in her fingers until the bowstring slipped free and fired the arrow in a straight and true line at the young college girl.

Elly had stopped just suddenly when she heard a strange "thwang" sound and was only waiting a moment before the arrow struck the girl just to the left and a little above her navel.
Amanda watched her arrow strike the woman. Elly's eyes shot wide for a moment and she let out a almost comical yelp, like someone had splashed cold water on her. She bounced on the heels of her feet and jumped a little into the air. Her hands were at her sides and palms out for only a half of a second and suddenly and with surprising agility she turned a whole one hundred and eighty degrees and sprinted away, sometimes skipping gracefully and leaping like a ballerina over fallen trees and rocks.
"We got her!" Laura yelped. "She's sprinting like the dickens!" Amanda replied. "Will that arrow be enough?" Laura said popping to her feet and storing her bow over her shoulder. "I think that was a good shot it felt good and looked like it went in pretty good. I think thats enough to take her, we have to chase her down though and see where she falls." With that both girls took off after dying doe.

Elly still had no clue what had happened. She was just skipping through the woods enjoying a good cold breeze on her inner thighs when suddenly someone had punched her in the stomach. Or it felt like someone had. The air had been knocked out of her and it felt like electricity had shot through her from her head to her feet. Elly Fawn did the one thing that came naturally to her. She sprinted away. She was strong and graceful and nimble and that had never failed her. Not once.

However now she had only run a short distance and the young and gentle naive blonde realized something seemed very different. Instead of hopping over large rocks and trees she was going around them. Instead of letting a little hop and spring into her step she was just now jogging with the methodical plodding of a woman running on a treadmill. She was not out of breathe like she had been running a long time but tired like she had woken early in the morning after a sleepless night, and something more. She did not feel like she was getting a full breathe of air when she inhaled and the muscles in her stomach felt hot and sore. Not just sore but tired and exhausted like she had done a million sit-ups.

"Ouch" Elly spoke out loud and dreamily. She slowed to a jog and ran her fingers over her forehead and moved her long blonde hair out of the way. She now slowed to a stroll She looked down now at her flat tummy and only now discovered the arrow embedded into her firm abs. She kept walking and lightly laid a hand on the arrow. Letting out a soft moan and knitting her eyebrows in pain. "Oh my". She said to no one in particular. Secretly Elly had always believed her whole life that she would be just too cute to shoot. Surely her little tight figure and sweet face coupled with her girly mannerisms and feminine movements would deter a hunter from bringing her down. She could not believe one had been so cruel as to go through with a hunt on her. To bring it all the way to the end and then finish it. "So mean." She whispered now. Not being entirely sure why she whispered. She felt tipsy and buzzed like she had binged on some wine coolers. " No really". She muttered wonderingly to no one at all. "That was so mean."

Suddenly she felt like she wasn't there at all. Her eyes crossed for just a moment and Elly allowed herself to sink to her knees. She brushed her hair over her shoulders and behind her ears again. Then let her weight sink to her right side and steadied herself with her right hand. She whimpered a little at the thought of running away from her pursuers in this state. It seemed totally undignified to keep scrambling away from her hunters with a ungraceful butch swagger and gimp. Elly took pride in her femininity, Her girlish ways. She was not one of those die hard survivalists from popular TV shows. She was a graceful wisp of a girl and now still in this dire moment she decided she would not trundle on. She straightened her hair for the third time and stretched out her legs slightly to better rest her weight. She lay down and leaned on her elbow so she could rest. She could hear the snapping of twigs and the rustling of foliage as her pursuers rushed upon her. "Fair game". Elly stated. She was feeling incredibly tired and tipsy. She winced at the though of what was about to come next but wanted to die with grace "Oh I hope this next part is quick. '7 She thought to herself. Suddenly she didn't feel much like even propping herself into the pseudo sitting position and allowed herself to lay on her side as the hunters closed to finish her.

"There she is!" Amanda could see the blonde had slowed. Suddenly the doe halted . lowered herself to the ground. Almost in slow motion she collapsed first to her knees. Then to the side of her thigh, then to her side on the ground. "She's down!" Laura chirped and they both rushed forward.

...
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Posted by on in Amazon Combat

This is one I wrote awhile ago! It was originally all-male, and admittedly not human males, but I edited it for content and came up with this. If there's any gender-confusion (him/his/he's showing up), that's why!

I hope you guys like it! And you can thank Zoey for inspiring me to post at least this story, if not more in the future. :)

If people want it, I'll post the original, but will only do it on request since it's off-topic from the site!

Story (c) me <3

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The sun beat down on the bare stone arena, as unfeeling and harsh as the girls that stood amidst the blowing sands of the arena floor. They stood resolute, unafraid, and hungry for battle.

“We who are about to die, salute you!” came the shout; each warrior lifted their weapon and spoke in unison. The crowd, a motley assembly of paupers, nobles and merchants, shouted back.

There were twenty fighters in all, their shapes and sizes as varied as the clothing and armor they had selected for ther bout. Some stood nude, their nipples erect and as hard as the weapons they held in their hands. Others wore simple loincloths, barely concealing their own aching flesh. The fight was to the death and as the assembled warriors turned to face each other, each knew that only one of them would leave the arena alive. Around the circular battlefield hung the heads of defeated gladiators, their tongues lolling and eyes closed in eternal repose; soon, nineteen more would grace the walls of the arena, a fitting end for a disgraced combatant.

One stood taller than most, her short black fur only highlighting the lean curves of her muscles in the noon-day sun. Each muscle had been earned with blood and sweat, the girl a statue carved by the arena and each nick and scar in her hide was worn with honour. She had forgotten her own name long ago, however, the years slaying her memories like a sharpened blade.

“Vindicem! Vindicem! Vindicem!”

The crowd chanted their name for her as she readied herself, bending to mutter a soft prayer to the gods before standing tall once more. The others had spread out, forming a ring with their backs to their walls and their eyes on each other. Bodies swayed in anticipation and breaths were held as they all waited for the word that would start the match.

“Macto”

The single word threw the whole building into a frenzy. The gladiators began to move immediately. The stink of fear was rich in the raven haired barbarian’s nostrils as she eyed her opponents, most of them avoiding her gaze in fear that she would choose them as her first target. It was a young looking brunette who threw the first swing, however. The girl, perhaps nineteen years of age, wore only a short silken loincloth which hung delicately between her legs. her gladius was short, not unlike the girl’s legs, but as she lunged towards a nude blonde, the barbarian was surprised to see the brunette wielded it with skill. Others began their fights in short order; the crash of steel on steel was dwarfed only by the roar of the crowd. The barbarian had learned to use the audience to her advantage; they had a clearer view than she did, and their reactions were all she needed to know the flow of the battle, when blood was spilled, and when a fighter fell.

It wasn’t long before the bloodlust of the crowd drew a deafening roar as the first gladiator fell. A stalwart nubian, nude save for the pair of hatchets she wielded, feinted around the guard of an inexperienced pict. The dark-skinned nubian’s hatchet struck true, landing with a meaty thud into the gut of the horrified warrior. The pict’s cream filled the air, barely a whisper to the ears of any but the closest fighters as the crowd thrilled at the sight. The nubian grinned at the sound, basking in both the scream and the crowd’s response, though she didn’t pause to appreciate her kill. A strike with the second hatchet silenced the pict as it landed in her neck, throwing her down into the dust of the arena with wide eyes and a raspy hacking cough which soon trailed off into silence. The arena sands had tasted their first blood of the match, and it wanted more.

The barbarian had already found her first target. A feline-like redhead had decided to stay off to the side, and now drew the barbarian’s gaze.

...
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Posted by on in Uncategorized

I'm going to post of few of my more recent ones here as part of my ongoing mission to kill Stephy as many times as possible. She's just too cute not to mount to the hood of your truck to take home and stuff for the mantle.

 

At the Altar of the Baals

In the town of Sechem, Stephana lived in comfort. Her home was a large structure of strong cedar at the foot of the path up the mountain.

Her days were simple. In the morning she awoke and went to the priestesses of Asherah. There they disrobed her over her evening gown and took her to the hot spring where they cleansed her of the dirt and sweat of the previous day and gently wax off any hair that grew any place but her head with honey. Her long brown hair was treated with sacred oils and brushed until it shown like gossamer and was put up in careful braids.

After her cleansing she would be dressed in a new gown of soft white linen. It was always stitched to her exact measurements, holding to her beautiful figure. From there she was free to do as she pleased until sunset. Often she would walk in the wooded gardens at the base of the mountian, enjoying the solitude. She was the only one with permission to walk there. She was the Blessed Virgin they told her, chosen from birth.

At sunset, Stephana took on her ceremonial role. She was to preside over the rites of the priests and priestesses of Ba'al and Asherah. She sat in her chair in the high place beneath the great tree that served as the Asherah Pole on the top of the mountain. There she witnessed the orgies and sacrifices. The people of the town would come and strip, ravishing each other with passion. At the height of their orgy, the calf would be brought out, unblemished and virgin. It would be sacrificed and dressed, then roasted over the coals on the altar, its juices dripping down and sending up smoke to please their gods. She would feast with the priests and priestesses, enjoying the bounty of the sacrifice.

But lately, Stephana grew worried. The long summer seemed like it would never end. The crops withered, and the flowers of the gardens no longer bloomed. Everyone was worried, and worse, they looked at her. She would hear the whispers as she passed, saw the conspiratorial looks. It frightened her.

Then night came.

They didn't come for the usual ceremony at sunset and no one made their way up the mountain. She waited for what seemed like an eternity.

Then Elzur the High Priest came. He was a tall man, and broad. His face was handsome, but grim. With him were all of the priests and priestesses.

"The time of the Great Sacrifice is at hand Stephana."

"What? I've never heard of such a thing in all my life, what do you mean? What am I to do? Where are the people of the town?"

"They are not to witness the sacrifice. It is not for their eyes. You are to be the sacrifice tonight, my dear. Now be a good girl and come along."

"No!"

...
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Posted by on in General

Alright, I've been asked to post more of my stuff over here, so I will begin with my Pulp Noir storyline: 

Pulp Noir

Prologue

A man with an attache case in a heavy coat walks the streets of Paris: the City of Light. He moves in specific patterns, avoiding attention, talks to men and women at cafes in hushed tones. He visits a library by night, avoiding the watchman. He stays at a cheap hostel and makes visits cheaper bars by night. It is a story of cloak and dagger, a story of the dirtier more dangerous side of the city on the eve of another world war. It is story told a dozen times over. It is my story, or the start anyway.

I met the girl in a seedy dive by the water on my last night in Paris. She was a beautiful brunette with a smoky voice and bedroom eyes. Normally I'd be suspicious, especially on the way back to her hotel, but she was a bombshell broad and her dress, with that plunging neckline and those great gams of hers showing through the high slit of her dark green dress, well, I'd face the whole Nazi war machine myself for a night with her. She was a fine scotch, worth a taste whatever the price. Besides, I had time to kill until my boat arrived and I'd rather spend it in beautiful woman's arms than doing anything else.

I watched as she got up from the bed and made her way over to the bathroom. The sway of her hips as she moved reawakened a hunger in me that I thought was previously sated from our long evening in. The sounds of the Paris night floated in the with cool air of the open window. That was when I noticed, a several quick flashes of light from the street. It was code. It wasn't directed at the bedroom window, just near it, the same floor. Almost too late, I surmised that it was a signal to the current occupant of the bathroom.

When she burst back in she was still wearing nothing but a smile, but this time she was armed with a MP 40, hands gripping it firmly as she fired from the hip. I managed to dive out of the way as she poured hot lead into the bed were sharing just moments ago. Fortunately, I rolled to the side that contained my clothes. My backup revolver was tucked inside.

She looked gorgeous even with the evil grimace she wore as her body moved and shook in pace with the recoil of the submachinegun. There wasn't any time to appreciate that though, only to act. Three .38 slugs riddled her chest and the fourth went dead center in her forehead. She dropped backwards onto to the bathroom tile with a surprised look on her face. The dame was dead before she hit the floor.

I got up without hesitation and dressed quickly. This kind of racket was bound to draw attention. Hell, I'd bet there were German SD agents on their way up already. They'd been after me since Hamburg and I didn't know how they knew to find me in Paris or about my weakness for beautiful women, but it wasn't time to worry about that. I went over to her for one last look and to grab the gun; I might need it.

She was a beautiful corpse, naked and lying in a pool or red from where my bullets went out her back. Her eyes looked up at me glassy and her mouth was open, asking a question she never quite got out. It's a pity, but I'll wager she was a professional. I hadn't noticed a trace of German in her accent, so she was probably a turncoat or freelancer. Either way, she'd chosen the wrong side to lay down with and the wrong person to try and screw.

I grabbed my things and made for the stairs. The MP-40's clip was still half full, and I had my revolver with its two rounds tucked into my trousers. Now all I needed to was get out of this hotel and out of Paris before whatever else German intelligence had in store for me got the chance to do it, and I knew it was the Germans like I knew the Yanks were going to beat the Reds in the Series this year. They'd been hounding me since Morocco no matter how much I tried to put them off my trail.

They weren't exactly regular German SD. They were with the Thule Society, one of a handful of splinter factions within the Nazi party dedicated to the study and acquisition of occult knowledge, and I knew what they wanted. They were after a scrap of paper I'd torn from a dusty tome in the Arsenal Library. They thought it would lead to a mystical artifact that would give them and Nazi's terrible occult power for whatever nefarious plans, and if the scrawls I read in the ancient ruins beneath Tangier are to be believed, they were right.

The creak of the floorboards outside the room let me know they were already almost on top of me. I listened to the sound of their footsteps outside and then sprayed the wall with bullets. The pained grunt followed by a thud I heard when the magazine ran empty let me know I'd gotten at least one of them. The door burst open moments later and two men scrambled in, letting me know I wasn't entirely lucky.

One was a beefy Teutonic brute with a scar on his cheek and meaty hands. He wielded a knife. His partner wasn't any prettier, but he was better armed. He was holding a Luger. It was pointed at the ceiling as he shoved his way into the room. I had just a second, but it was enough. I pulled the revolver and fired off my remaining two shots.

The thug with the gun went down, two shots in his chest. Now I had his friend to deal with. It was a pity I had just fists left to bring to our knife fight. That wasn't entirely true until I threw my empty revolver at his head. It stunned my would be killer long enough to let me get back to pick up a nearby chair.

...
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Posted by on in Uncategorized

A story inspired by Vladiola's profile

 

--

 

Knee-high boots clicked against the wooden floor as the blonde Amazon strode in confidently. Vladiola was her name and her behaviour was not without justification for hers was the winning tribe. She was in a village her tribe had just conquered. Bodies of her enemies laid sprawled in various death poses, each one sporting different death wounds. Having just rained, the village was still relatively free from the stench of death but Vladiola saw no reason to stay outside when there were warm houses.

"Mmm, much better," she notes as she glanced around. Warm and clean, much unlike outside where blood and gore were scattered about. Whilst her Amazon sisters went about searching for remnants of their rival Amazons, Vladiola figured there was no harm 'keeping watch' here. No one will know after all, if she laid low!

She slumped back on the wooden chair, all relaxed as she placed her leg on the table. In her comfort, she failed to notice the real danger. Crouched low, were the same remnants of the rival Amazonian tribe her sisters (and Vladiola, were she not skiving) were hunting. They approached the unsuspecting Amazon from behind, then as a few fanned out to take point at the windows, one of the Amazon plunged her sword up Vladiola's back.

"Ungh," gasped Vladiola as the blade forced it way through, precisely piercing her heart as it  made its way out slightly above her left breast. The blade was pulled out almost as quickly as it impaled her, leaving her to slump back on the chair as blood spurted out from her wound with the beats of her quickly dying heart. She tried to struggle, to muster up her strength to take at least one down with her. Nothing moved; she was utterly helpless as gradually, strength was lost even in her neck and she had to tilt her head back on the chair.

The enemy Amazons began to move, exiting the house one by one. Only the last pauses briefly, quickly returning to Vladiola. She lightly holds Vladiola's chin, directing her face so that they met eye to eye. Giddy and quickly fading from the blood loss, Vladiola registered only her insignificance as the Amazon smirked and left. Darkness took over, leaving the lone Amazon limp on the chair, the wound above her left breast the only indication of her demise. 

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Posted by on in Bloody Death

Keiko shooting up the barefooted schoolgirl gangsters

This story is inspired this picture by MikeA that he recently reposted. I thought it was unfortunate that none of the girls even got a chance to fight back, so I wrote up a "context" explaining how this happened and providing a less one-sided aftermath, when MikeA's assassin Keiko faces Junko, the leader of these barefooted schoolgirl gangsters...

Keiko versus Junko

Junko's short skirt and long, black hair flared as she leaped yet another fence. She did not pause, continuing her sprint toward the ambush site. The girl was dressed in the short-sleeved white sailor blouse, presently soaked in sweat and clinging to her firm, braless breasts, and a dark blue skirt: the uniform of the Madam Fukisuki Memorial High School, where she was a Senior. It had been modified into her gang uniform: the blouse cut to only slightly below her ribs, showing off her washboard abs, the skirt shortened to defy even the Fukisuki High's already permissive dress code by an inch or two, and the socks and the shoes removed, the toughened soles of her bare feet propelling her down the street and into the city block's interior.

Her eyes widened as the rattle of gunfire reached her, echoing through the city block. She was too late. She rounded a corner in time to see the last of her gang's Senior class, known as the "Berserker Bitches of Fukisuki High," collapse in a hail of gunfire emanating from the twin machine pistols wielded by their leather-clad owner, their supposed target.

She stood there in her high-heeled leather boots, blasting away, her expression clinical, neither worried nor relieved, her aim steady and deadly despite the recoil. Junko's gang's machine pistols -- the ones that the yakuza had given them the day before as an advance payment for eliminating this assassin, Keiko -- lay scattered on the concrete sidewalk, dropped by their new owners, who were very much surprised when their new guns failed to shoot, moments before they were methodically riddled by the much more functional weapons of their target. In retrospect, the deal had been too good to be true: a dozen hard to smuggle, expensive guns, with no strings attached, just for killing one solitary woman, with all the details of how to do it handed to them. Junko did not know exactly how they had rigged the guns to work one day and fail the next; nor did she care. All she knew was that the yakuza must have known that the gang had no place to test-fire the guns the morning of the attack, and that this Keiko was not the real target: Junko and her gang were. Alas, she had figured the ploy out too late, and despite her mad dash, she was not able to warn them in time.

Her girls -- no: her friends -- had been so cheerful and optimistic as they were heading out of the gang's improvised HQ to execute their first real hit, brandishing their new arms, their ticket to the big leagues they felt they had earned, having proven their mettle against other street gangs. And, to Junko, at least, the saddest cut of all was that they could have probably succeeded in taking out the leather-clad hitwoman, if they had eschewed the guns and gone in with the weapons they had trained to use: knives, chains, baseball bats, or even just their bare fists and bare feet. One or two (perhaps even Junko herself) might have had to sacrifice themselves to pull it off, but the gang had courage, loyalty, and camaraderie enough. Instead, lulled into overconfidence by their new guns and surprised and demoralized when they did not fire, they were massacred like a bunch of helpless schoolgirls.

Keiko fired her last burst at the ambushed gang girls, and looked down the alley, now strewn with the twitching sailor-suited barefooted bodies: the entire Senior class of the gang. She shifted her guns to aim at the newcomer. Junko was looking back at her, panting, involuntary tears flowing down her cheeks, her bangs matted to her forehead. The girl clenched her teeth, a growl rising in her throat. She grabbed the switchblade concealed in the waistband of her skirt and rushed at the hitwoman. Keiko frowned and pulled the trigger, her pistols obediently sending bursts of death at the charging schoolgirl. Three bloody holes exploded on her exposed abdomen as bullets impacted. Another splattered into her groin, staining her white panties crimson. Junko grunted and folded a little, pushed back by the sheer momentum of the bullets, but then straightened out, once again rushing at the hitwoman, the same growl rising in her throat. Keiko fired another burst and each of Junko's breasts bounced from a bullet impact, blood splattering over her white blouse, with the third bullet leaving a deep cut in her upper arm. The girl felt nothing amid the adrenaline and the heartache and her bare feet kept pumping, her eyes fixated on the hitwoman, lips parted in a grimace, her knife's blade and her lifeblood glistening in the bright noonday sun.

Keiko's machine pistols clanked, their slides locking open, their ammunition exhausted. The wounded girl reached striking range, and the hitwoman leaned back to avoid a high roundhouse kick, which nevertheless swept her empty guns out of her hands. Not skipping a beat, Junko followed it up with a horizontal swipe of her blade that cut into the hitwoman's bodice and left a thin line of crimson on her flesh. That swipe was followed by another and another, and Keiko's heels beat a staccato on the pavement as she backed off under the girl's furious and relentless assault. She twisted out of the way of yet another swipe of Junko's blade, and used the momentum to pivot and knee her shorter opponent in the side. Junko barely grunted as she staggered back a step, and thrust her blade at Keiko. But Keiko had drawn a combat knife from a sheath in her boot before returning her foot to the ground. Catching her enraged opponent's wrist, the leather-clad hitwoman pulled her in and thrust her own knife out, letting the barefooted girl impale herself, the serrated blade tearing into her gut, to the hilt. Junko let out a gurgling moan and once again pushed forward, trying to bring the point of her knife down toward Keiko, her impaled abs grinding against Keiko's knife hand and forcing Keiko to once again back up to avoid falling on her back.

Keiko's back hit a wall and, in her surprise, she let the blade drift closer to her throat. Junko put both hands her switchblade's hilt and pressed on, trying to force it down. With nowhere to retreat, Keiko let go of her own knife, grabbing the girl's other wrist as Junko put her whole weight down on the knife. Their faces less than a foot apart, Keiko may have even felt something like genuine fear as she watched her opponent's enraged stare and her grimace of pain and exertion: even as blood flowed abundantly between her lips and her shirt and skirt were likewise soaking in it as her many bullet wounds sapped her strength and even as Keiko's shifting knife tore up her belly, the crazed girl was somehow managing to make the blade drift toward Keiko.

But Keiko was not going to be killed by this amateur. The girl's exertions had caused her to almost lift herself off the ground, her feet losing traction. With a grunt of effort of her own, Keiko shoved at Junko's hands even as she let the blade come down, redirecting it into Junko's own chest. The girl could do nothing as switchblade swung around and jammed hard into her sternum. Her eyes widening more from surprise than pain, she staggered back two steps, her hands releasing the knife that was now sticking out between her breasts. Looking down with the same puzzled expression, she put one hand on it, and pulled on it gingerly, as if trying to remove it. Still pulling on it, she took a step toward Keiko, then tipped forward against the taller woman, vomiting blood over her chest before sliding down her body and collapsing on the ground in a heap.

Keiko looked down at herself, her own adrenaline subsiding and the shallow but painful cuts her dying opponent had managed to inflict making themselves known. "What a hellcat," she grumbled, suddenly appreciating just why the yakuza went to such great lengths to set up these Berserker Bitches of Fukisuki High rather than take them head-on, "She better not have rabies or some shit..."

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And the wait is pretty much over.

I am sorry for all those patiently waiting for an update on my comic series so tonight here are some good news and bad news.

 

Bad news. Part 2 first death scene is not quite finished yet and i will not upload it on SA til it's done.

 

Good news... For the impatient ones i have made a directors cut of the first half of part 2 and uploaded it to DEVIANT ART!. :D

 

Here are the links to 2 pages worth of story. Enjoy first half. (Just to prove i have not been lazying about all this time :D)

 

First page http://fav.me/d7iw0fl

Second page http://fav.me/d7iw16m

 

There is a lot more after, but it will not be uploaded until the staking scene is complete. And the wait will be worth it guys and girls. :)

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Posted by on in Uncategorized

I m still working hard on my major action packed scene for Lucy the Vampire Huntress comic.

I got the strip club, now it's time to fill it with...... That's right sexy vampire strippers.

My cast is getting fuller and fuller... Rest assured for those who've been waiting you will not be disapointed. :D

On another note.... Nikky and Wendy now officially joined the cast.

Wendy is the short-haired sweet brunette that i now named.

Nikki.... Well we all know Nikki. She is a strong, big breasted and tatooed character with a very vicious way of looking at things.

Stay tuned for more cast updates... Perhaps more girls of Dark Peeps shall be joining the fight for the survival of Ariel's stripper coven.

For those of you who just can't wait i already posted a draft of Nikki's death scene in my Custom Artwork album.... Enjoy. :)

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Posted by on in Amazon Combat

I had to edit this one heavily. The original was girls vs. boys so there's a lot of pronouns and stuff I had to change... as well as references to boybits and orgasms, hehe. The worst was how often I used "his" vs. "her" to differentiate who's doing what, but now since they're all "hers", it made it a little confusing. I tried to fix that as much as I could.

This was a commission I did for someone based on their enjoyment of a series I had running about a force of sado-masochist Mercs. Because who's better to fight and die in missions with low odds of success then people who get off on the idea of dying? Hehe.

Sorry if there're any big errors! Like I said, had to edit heavily and may have missed an awkward sentence.

_______________________________________

      Mickayla’s time in the Spears had prepared her for many things. She was prepared for the intense chill that ran up her back as the simulator integrated with her spinal nerves. She was prepared for the rush of warm water which washed over her face, as though the cavernous warehouse she had been sitting in only seconds earlier had been struck by a tsunami. She was even prepared for the glint of sunlight filtering lazily through the crystal clear waters which greeted her as she opened her eyes.

      When one served with the Spears, one learned to expect the unexpected. Today, however, the slim 5’8” brunette found herself surprised. Around her the core of her team were still blinking into existence amongst the softly rolling currents of the tropical waters that would be their battlefield. This wasn’t what had surprised her, however. Nor was it the tight silver one-piece swimsuit she wore. The fabric was like latex against her skin, showing off every curve of her supple body while blending with the glinting light dancing across her skin. All of this was as expected as the knife on her thin black belt and the harpoon gun strapped to her outer thigh.

      “What the hell are you doing here, Anna?!” She hoped the surprise in her voice was masked by the crackling of her mask-based communication set, though the moulded clear plastic did little to hide the surprise in her features.

...
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Posted by on in Amazon Combat

I actually intended to write this to demonstrate all the fetish interests that I have... From mass femxfem battles... To various types of death, to humiliation, to necrophilia... It wound up being quite a story... And even then, I missed out some of my fetish interests! Still, thought it would be a good idea to share the story since I feel I really put in quite a lot of effort into this one.

Originally posted on another site. Thought to have it here as well since there aren't a lot of stories here (yet, I hope!).

--

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The fire fight began the moment the two groups saw each other. On one side, the Red Street Hookers and on the other, the P-Bangers, each seeking to overwhelm the other in this final, decisive fight that would place one gang in control of Red Street, the most profitable red light district in the city. On the defensive, the Red Street Hookers retreated into their brothel, a residential apartment converted into a place dedicated to the hedonists in the city.

Ordinarily, each and every unit in the apartment would be filled with the cries of ecstasy. However, this time, it is filled with cries of pain and death. The P-Bangers, despite being disadvantaged right from the outset, were on a warpath, killing the Red Street Hookers left and right. 

"Alright, the third squad should have soaked up quite a good amount of those Bangers bullets. Its time for us, the sixth squad to shine," said Chloe, addressing her squad. They were a rowdy bunch, but each one earned their place in the elite squad. For instance, Mad Dorothy, a tall, buxom girl with the pistol and kitchen knife. Her epithet arose from one incident in which she massacred an entire gang by herself. The leader of the gang, an equally well-endowed lady by the name of Clara, was eventually discovered dead in her apartment. All around her grotesquely mutilated body were her underlings, all sporting different death wounds.

But the most gruesome of all was Clara's corpse, stripped naked. More terrifying for everyone involved in that investigation was Clara's nether regions. Dorothy had carved out the girl's genitals, and brought it back as proof of a successful assassination. While Dorothy scared her handler in the gang, Chloe saw that she proved herself a worthy asset to possess. 

...
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Posted by on in Amazon Combat

So... I write for my own enjoyment, as well as by commission on another site. I decided I had at least a few stories that might fit the general theme of SexyAmazons, and wanted to share it with you guys.

Hope you enjoy it!

_________________________

            The city’s heartbeat pulsed beneath her feet as she ran, the rain-slickened rooftops threatening to send her tumbling from them with each step she took. Still, her balance was impeccable, each step flowing with the grace of a dancer who had never known the peace of the stage. Even when it seemed she had run out of room, another path would open; a balcony, a fire escape, or even a clothesline was all she needed to find the next rooftop, the next step. She stopped only when she wanted to, and when she did she found herself standing high above the city. The building beneath her was some form of tenement, the rooftop surrounded on three sides by a tall chain link fence and decorated by a plethora of Antennae.


            “Ichi?” The voice crackled over the small receiver fitted into the inner curve of her ear, a small scar betraying its location beneath a thin layer of skin.

            “Reporting”

            “Are you in position?”

            “Yes.” Ichi kept her answers short, it was how she had been trained. Words were only a substitute for action, and she had not been trained to be eloquent.

...
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