deermeat
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Apr 13, 2020
Something tame but humorous, the original was not intending it to come off this way.
Furry Art Freak Show - From ungodly eyesores to nauseating masterpieces
- Thread starter OwO What's This?
- Start date
- Joined
- Apr 18, 2021
This was titled, "ball of anus."
deermeat
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Apr 13, 2020
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2020
He doesn't seem that bothered.
- Joined
- Apr 18, 2021
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2020
- Joined
- Apr 18, 2021
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2020
Gumball always loved fucking Anais while she's pregnant. Something about her cute belly and knowing his baby is in there drove him crazy.
Nicole warned him to be careful though. Anais was due any day now. But that just made him want to fuck her harder.
Feeling her water break was more than enough to give him the best climax he's ever had.
Nicole warned him to be careful though. Anais was due any day now. But that just made him want to fuck her harder.
Feeling her water break was more than enough to give him the best climax he's ever had.
Some lunchtime reading courtesy of Lebbick:
"Graham." Adrian nodded to the wolf as she passed him, willing herself not to blush. Shit. Of course, she had to run into the one person who was definitely going to notice.
"Adrian," he growled back, his toenails clicking on the tiles of the hallway leading to the dispatch chambers. The Cyan Mile, they called it as a joke, referencing the tiles' hospital-inspired color. "New perfume?" he grinned, pointing his nose up at the mare's wet face. "Eau de toilet?"
Adrian's will wasn't enough to stop the blush then. "My last client had an accident on the way out. It happens."
"A face-level accident?"
"She wanted to hang."
"And you wanted to taste," the wolf rumbled, lowering his eyes to the mare's naked breasts.
"Is this really appropriate workplace conversation, Gray?"
That got a laugh from the wolf, breaking the tension a little. "Appropriate workplace conversation! That's good. Sorry, is my tie straight?" He pretended to adjust an invisible tie, swaying his hips so that his half-erection waggled in front of his belly.
Adrian snorted and gave Graham's shoulder a firm push, gently reminding him of her physical size, as she had to do from time to time. "Out of my way, Gray. I need to get to the showers.
"And ruin that delicate bouquet?" He made a show of wafting the heady scent of the death-piss toward his nose. "What is that, rat?"
"She was a mouse. And stop being disrespectful." She ignored Graham grinning and squeezing his cock as she turned the corner toward the showers.
"Oh!" She bumped into a blue and red wall of scales as she walked into the washroom. "Sorry, Vask," she said as she stepped back from the only Sunset Farms employee who was larger than her. "Wasn't watching where I was going."
"No worries," the ten-foot-tall dragon rumbled. Their scales, normally iridescent blue and immaculate, were spattered with gore from their belly to halfway up their long, serpentine neck. "I'm not easy to knock over." They turned on one of the showerheads along the wall and hunched over to fit under the spray.
"Look at you! Big job?" Adrian wiped off some of the blood that had transferred onto her fur, turning on a shower next to Vask's.
"Yes. A horse. Er... sorry."
Adrian laughed. "You don't need to walk on eggshells around me. I know what we do. I dispatch horses too, when they're clients."
"Of course you do. Sorry... um, for being sorry." The gentle dragon wiped the blood from their scales in the warm water. "I barely had to do anything. He had his whole ritual down pat. After he prayed and took the shot, I just put the hooks in his ankles, hoisted him up, and cut his throat. So funny how differently everyone reacts to the prey drive gene activation."
Adrian nodded. "You have to remember, some species have been doing this a long time. Us horses were farmed and slaughtered for centuries before the prey drive gene was even developed."
"Yes, I suppose a culture adapts. The rituals would have been a good coping strategy before the gene made them unnecessary."
"That's a bit of a reptilian way to look at it, but you're probably right. Prey were less likely to revolt if they felt some measure of control over their own slaughter."
"And now, with the gene, the slaughtered have even less control over when they die, but they're more content for it. How... mammalian."
"Executioner Adrian," the loudspeaker in the ceiling interrupted their conversation. "Please report to reception. You have a client."
Adrian shrugged and turned off the water, grabbing a towel. "Catch you later, Vask, someone needs me!"
She finished drying herself off as she clopped down the tile hall, tossing the towel into a hamper outside one of the execution rooms, where it came to rest covering a bloodstained pink dress. The wide double doors to reception creaked as she pushed them open, stepping into the crisp, sterile waiting room. She always felt a little out-of-place here in the nude, even though she knew the wide floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the city street were one-way glass. It was just so... businesslike out here.
"Mr. Mercier," the small fox receptionist chirped from behind her desk, "Your executioner is here." Her tone was a little more clipped than usual, Adrian noticed.
A figure stood up from one of the waiting room chairs, and Adrian deduced the reason for Mimi's shortness. Mr. Mercier was also a fox. Of course, everyone knew that any sentient of any species could end up with an activated prey drive gene. It was legally mandated, in fact - an attempt to correct the species exploitation of the past. But some predators still had dim views about members of their own species ending up on the bottom of the food chain.
"Hello, Mr. Mercier." Adrian stepped forward, ignoring the tension. She extended a hand and smiled. "I'll be helping you today." Her nostrils flared as she took in his scent, her eyes flicking up and down his figure. Everyone who was born with an active prey drive gene reacted differently when it manifested itself, but there were common patterns. It was easy to see which category this fox fell into. His musk heavy in the air, his tented trousers, his moist paw in hers as he reflexively shook it. Adrian could almost feel the death-lust coming off him in waves.
"Call me Jean, please," he said, running his free paw down his side nervously. "God... she wasn't lying, you really are a horse!"
"Yes, Jean. People of any species can be executioners, regardless of predatory status."
"I'm sorry. I guess that makes sense, huh? I mean, if I can be prey..."
A sharp little cough came from behind Mimi's desk as she noisily shuffled some paperwork around. "Why don't we take this discussion into the preparation area?" Adrian said as she guided Jean toward the metal double doors.
"Sh-She's a bit of a wet towel, huh?" Jean stuttered as the doors swung shut behind them. "Doesn't like predators like me getting..." he squeezed for a moment at his crotch before pulling his paw back to his side.
"It's okay, you can touch yourself all you want back here." Adrian responded to the fox's obvious arousal rather than his words. "And no, she's fine with predators being killed here. I think it's mostly just that you're a fox. I'll have a word with her after this." She leaned forward and breathed into his ear. "Not that it will be any of your concern by then."
"Oh my God..." Jean's paw returned to his crotch, squeezing his erection through the fabric of his trousers. "This is real, isn't it? You're really going to kill me and sell my meat!"
Adrian could tell this wasn't the kind of client who wanted euphemisms. There would be no ritual or afterlife talk this time. The gene had hit him hard. "That's right." She pulled him close to her chest and reached down, unbuttoning his fly and letting his pants fall to the floor of the prep room. "We know what you need. We're going to make sure you never see tomorrow, Jean."
The fox panted and whined, taking his paw off his groin only long enough for Adrian to pull his boxer shorts down as well, then returned to stroking his erection, now fully exposed. Adrian helped him out of his shirt, then folded his clothes and placed them in a nearby receptacle with an unmistakable flame icon. "My wallet's in there..." he squeaked.
"So?"
"Um... I guess I don't know." His eyes drifted over to the toilet in the corner of the prep room. "Should I use that? I've heard people sometimes lose control at the end."
Adrian shrugged. "It's up to you. We don't require it, but we provide the opportunity if the idea of doing it uncontrollably later is disturbing.
Jean swallowed audibly, and his voice was raspy as he responded, "I'm pretty sure I'm too hard to piss, anyway." Adrian nodded, unsurprised. Jean didn't strike her as the preserve-my-dignity type.
"No worries. Our execution chambers all have drains for a reason. Of course, there are other options, if you'd like to maintain a little bit of decorum." She raised a paw, gesturing to the rack of thick, white medical-grade disposable diapers neatly folded and stacked above a sturdy changing table.
The fox's cheeks flashed bright red as soon as he recognized the puffy white objects. "I mean..." he coughed. "It's not about decorum so much as... it kinda seems right, doesn't it? If we know I'm probably gonna piss myself, then I should wear a diaper? Right?"
"Couldn't agree more," Adrian said, and quickly lifted the fox up off his feet, eliciting a surprised squeak. She laid him down on the changing table, his erection jutting up.
"God, you're strong!"
Adrian gently pried Jean's paw off his cock, then unfolded one of the thick diapers. "Lift up." The fox thrust his hips into the air, and Adrian slid the diaper under his bottom. She carefully ran a finger along the leak guards to stand them up, then fitted his tail into the rear slot and taped him up snugly. "There. Now you'll leave less of a mess behind you. That's sort of the definition of being a good person, isn't it?"
Jean laughed as Adrian set him back down on his feet, his legs spread from the unfamiliar thickness of the execution diaper. "I guess it is!" He followed Adrian through the prep room doors into the Cyan Mile. Large metal doors, reminiscent of bulkhead doors on a ship, lined the hall on either side. "So... how are you going to do it?"
"Well, that's up to you. We have a lot of options."
"I get to choose?"
Adrian nodded. "Yes, you do. Some prey like an intimate exit with their executioner. Sex is allowed, and strangling while fucking is always popular. Others prefer something ritualistic, like self-disembowelment. Or maybe a literal execution scene, like hanging from a gallows or taking a peek through a guillotine. Some just want to go out quick, and we have options for that. Breakneck bars and captive bolt guns."
The execution diaper crinkled, giving away Jean's furtive rubbing at his crotch as Adrian described his options. "I... don't know! I always thought I'd just... you know. Get hung up and bled, or something."
"That's an option."
"But what if it's not the right option?" Jean sounded panicky. Adrian sympathized - this was an important decision, after all. It would affect him for the rest of his life!
"Let me ask you something. they called specifically for me over the intercom. That means you asked for me after hearing descriptions of the available executioners. Right now, there's a wolf, a dragon, and a cat on duty. They're all generally more popular among prey than I am. What caused you to ask for the only prey-species executioner?"
Jean hesitated as he thought about the question. Adrian saw his eyes look her up and down, linger on her pink vulva between her wide thighs, and stop on her large, steel-shod hooves. "Ever since the gene activated, I've been thinking about someone big and strong taking me out. Didn't matter if they were pred or prey, really. And to me, a horse symbolizes strength."
"I see. Maybe none of those options are right for you. If you'd like, I could just take you out with my body." She lifted one foot and set it down on the tile, letting the metallic click of her shoe ring out through the hallway.
The fox took in a shuddering breath, staring at her feet. "That sounds... nice," he choked out. "Painful, though?"
She smirked, heading over to one of the bulkhead-style doors and opening it with a thumbprint scan. "We have ways of managing the pain, if you'd like. Come on in."
Jean took a halting step into the last room he'd ever see, staring at the tile floor with its wide drain and the calming light-blue walls. Aside from a few cabinets on the wall, it was completely empty. "I expected to see nooses and boltguns and stuff."
"There are rooms like that here," Adrian said, clopping over to one of the cabinets and unlocking it with another thumb scan. "Some execution methods require specialized equipment, and if you'd asked for that, I would have taken you to one of those rooms. This one is general-purpose, for less refined methods of switching off prey. Like getting run over roughshod by a sexy mare." She took a small cylinder out of the cabinet and shut it again.
"What's that?" Jean perked his ears as Adrian pulled the sleeve off a small syringe with a hair-thin needle. "I told you we have pain management options."
"Like a painkiller?"
"Sort of. It doesn't stop the pain. It just crosses a couple wires in your brain so that you feel it as pleasure. Usually sexual pleasure, but sometimes as emotional high or even just physical comfort. Something tells me that in your case, it will be sexual."
Jean dipped his nose down. "I don't know... it feels like a bit of a cop-out, you know? Part of my prey drive is about feeling it."
"You're still sacrificing yourself and helping your fellow sentients to eat. Your death is valid whether it's painful or not."
The fox nodded. "Okay. Yeah, I'll take the shot."
Adrian didn't let it show, but she was relieved. Jean didn't seem like the type who would enjoy agony in his last moments, but sometimes clients were stubborn about letting themselves get the most pleasure possible out of their end.
"All right. Hold still, it goes in your neck. Quickest way to the brain."
"Urgh." Jean winced and turned his head to the side. "Make it quick. I hate needles."
Adrian laughed, already pulling the needle out of his neck. "It's already over. Congratulations, you're officially a dead fox walking."
Jean looked up at her and cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"
"Well, the effects of the shot are permanent. Even if we let you go right now, how long do you think you'd last experiencing pain as pleasure?"
The fox blushed, looking down at himself. "I guess that's a good point. So, what do I do now?"
"Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and try to relax," Adrian said, tossing the needle into a discreet sharps disposal container in the wall. "I'll take care of the rest."
Jean did so, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose. Adrian let him get a big lungful - she knew he might not be able to breathe for a bit after this, and didn't want him to black out so soon. Once he was done inhaling, she turned her hip to the side and delivered a full-power metal-shod horse kick directly to the fox's belly.
He let out an involuntary noise between a grunt and a honk as he fell. From his other end came the unmistakable sound of Jean messing his diaper, the seat of which expanded with a crackle. He fell hard on his soiled rump, then curled up reflexively on his side, letting out gurgly choking sounds.
"All right, come on," Adrian said, bending down and lifting his head up by the hair. "You aren't dead yet."
Jean kept gagging for a few more seconds, then coughed a spray of blood onto the tile floor, gasping air in. "Why'sit... feel so good to breathe?" he asked between rasping coughs.
Adrian laughed. "Because you're in agony. Probably a bruised diaphragm, maybe even a burst lung. And the shot is doing its job. Feels good, huh?"
The fox shivered and moaned. "Like my whole body's a dick in a pussy."
"Speaking of which..." The mare was beginning to feel herself wink, turned on by this subby dead-meat fox. She rolled him over on his back and knelt over his head, giving him a great view of her pussy and tailhole, slick and warm and fleshy. She began to lower it onto his face, pressing his nose up inside her. He squeaked muffled noises into her, squeezing at his diapered erection.
"Whuff... there you go." She rocked back and forth on his face, rubbing his ears with her paws. She kept going, masturbating with his snout until his pawing at himself became disjointed twitching and the tips of his ears turned blue. She lifted off his face, trailing streamers of sticky mare juices, and the fox took in another ragged gasp. "God, I thought I wash going! It wash incredible..." he slurred.
"You were, if I hadn't lifted up off you when I did. Tell you what, let's wrap this up, okay? I'm going to get you cumming, and then I'll finish you off."
"Get cumming and get going, huh? Sounds good," the fox grinned, color temporarily returning to his face.
Adrian straightened up, still standing over his face with her legs spread. She figured he'd earned a good final view. She nudged his arms with her hoof so they were spreadeagle, then lifted her leg and stamped her hoof down on one of his paws. She felt the bones breaking like a bundle of twigs under her metal shoe, and the fox bucked his hips, humping at the air in front of him, his tongue lolling out and his eyes slightly crazed. Adrian stomped her other hoof on Jean's other paw, and he grunted, tensing up and squirting his final cum into the padding of his diaper. Adrian's nose picked up the musk of his orgasm, and she knew it was time for him to go, before that last glorious orgasm could end. She lifted her hoof one more time, and this time set it down on his throat, right below his chin. She didn't have to stomp - she knew her weight would do the job.
Jean's moans choked off as his windpipe closed. Then, with an audible pop, his neck lengthened by about an inch. His body jerked as his vertebrae were severed, and his eyes went unfocused, his pupils dilating. Adrian lifted her hoof back up, listening to his final breath rattle out of his lungs and his bladder release, soaking the front of his diaper with more than just cum. "Night night, foxy."
Adrian lifted up his still-twitching body and set it on a metal gurney, just like the one she diapered him on, except not padded. There was no need to account for the comfort of the corpse lying there now, its head sitting at an odd angle and its neck twisting unnaturally. Adrian leaned down and pressed her nose to the front of his diaper, indulging her little secret pleasure. Prey never knew what she did with their bodies before sending them off to the butcher, and by the time she did it, they wouldn't care. She fingered herself as she began, huffing the piss-shit-and-musk smell that meant another satisfied client.
"Adrian," he growled back, his toenails clicking on the tiles of the hallway leading to the dispatch chambers. The Cyan Mile, they called it as a joke, referencing the tiles' hospital-inspired color. "New perfume?" he grinned, pointing his nose up at the mare's wet face. "Eau de toilet?"
Adrian's will wasn't enough to stop the blush then. "My last client had an accident on the way out. It happens."
"A face-level accident?"
"She wanted to hang."
"And you wanted to taste," the wolf rumbled, lowering his eyes to the mare's naked breasts.
"Is this really appropriate workplace conversation, Gray?"
That got a laugh from the wolf, breaking the tension a little. "Appropriate workplace conversation! That's good. Sorry, is my tie straight?" He pretended to adjust an invisible tie, swaying his hips so that his half-erection waggled in front of his belly.
Adrian snorted and gave Graham's shoulder a firm push, gently reminding him of her physical size, as she had to do from time to time. "Out of my way, Gray. I need to get to the showers.
"And ruin that delicate bouquet?" He made a show of wafting the heady scent of the death-piss toward his nose. "What is that, rat?"
"She was a mouse. And stop being disrespectful." She ignored Graham grinning and squeezing his cock as she turned the corner toward the showers.
"Oh!" She bumped into a blue and red wall of scales as she walked into the washroom. "Sorry, Vask," she said as she stepped back from the only Sunset Farms employee who was larger than her. "Wasn't watching where I was going."
"No worries," the ten-foot-tall dragon rumbled. Their scales, normally iridescent blue and immaculate, were spattered with gore from their belly to halfway up their long, serpentine neck. "I'm not easy to knock over." They turned on one of the showerheads along the wall and hunched over to fit under the spray.
"Look at you! Big job?" Adrian wiped off some of the blood that had transferred onto her fur, turning on a shower next to Vask's.
"Yes. A horse. Er... sorry."
Adrian laughed. "You don't need to walk on eggshells around me. I know what we do. I dispatch horses too, when they're clients."
"Of course you do. Sorry... um, for being sorry." The gentle dragon wiped the blood from their scales in the warm water. "I barely had to do anything. He had his whole ritual down pat. After he prayed and took the shot, I just put the hooks in his ankles, hoisted him up, and cut his throat. So funny how differently everyone reacts to the prey drive gene activation."
Adrian nodded. "You have to remember, some species have been doing this a long time. Us horses were farmed and slaughtered for centuries before the prey drive gene was even developed."
"Yes, I suppose a culture adapts. The rituals would have been a good coping strategy before the gene made them unnecessary."
"That's a bit of a reptilian way to look at it, but you're probably right. Prey were less likely to revolt if they felt some measure of control over their own slaughter."
"And now, with the gene, the slaughtered have even less control over when they die, but they're more content for it. How... mammalian."
"Executioner Adrian," the loudspeaker in the ceiling interrupted their conversation. "Please report to reception. You have a client."
Adrian shrugged and turned off the water, grabbing a towel. "Catch you later, Vask, someone needs me!"
She finished drying herself off as she clopped down the tile hall, tossing the towel into a hamper outside one of the execution rooms, where it came to rest covering a bloodstained pink dress. The wide double doors to reception creaked as she pushed them open, stepping into the crisp, sterile waiting room. She always felt a little out-of-place here in the nude, even though she knew the wide floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the city street were one-way glass. It was just so... businesslike out here.
"Mr. Mercier," the small fox receptionist chirped from behind her desk, "Your executioner is here." Her tone was a little more clipped than usual, Adrian noticed.
A figure stood up from one of the waiting room chairs, and Adrian deduced the reason for Mimi's shortness. Mr. Mercier was also a fox. Of course, everyone knew that any sentient of any species could end up with an activated prey drive gene. It was legally mandated, in fact - an attempt to correct the species exploitation of the past. But some predators still had dim views about members of their own species ending up on the bottom of the food chain.
"Hello, Mr. Mercier." Adrian stepped forward, ignoring the tension. She extended a hand and smiled. "I'll be helping you today." Her nostrils flared as she took in his scent, her eyes flicking up and down his figure. Everyone who was born with an active prey drive gene reacted differently when it manifested itself, but there were common patterns. It was easy to see which category this fox fell into. His musk heavy in the air, his tented trousers, his moist paw in hers as he reflexively shook it. Adrian could almost feel the death-lust coming off him in waves.
"Call me Jean, please," he said, running his free paw down his side nervously. "God... she wasn't lying, you really are a horse!"
"Yes, Jean. People of any species can be executioners, regardless of predatory status."
"I'm sorry. I guess that makes sense, huh? I mean, if I can be prey..."
A sharp little cough came from behind Mimi's desk as she noisily shuffled some paperwork around. "Why don't we take this discussion into the preparation area?" Adrian said as she guided Jean toward the metal double doors.
"Sh-She's a bit of a wet towel, huh?" Jean stuttered as the doors swung shut behind them. "Doesn't like predators like me getting..." he squeezed for a moment at his crotch before pulling his paw back to his side.
"It's okay, you can touch yourself all you want back here." Adrian responded to the fox's obvious arousal rather than his words. "And no, she's fine with predators being killed here. I think it's mostly just that you're a fox. I'll have a word with her after this." She leaned forward and breathed into his ear. "Not that it will be any of your concern by then."
"Oh my God..." Jean's paw returned to his crotch, squeezing his erection through the fabric of his trousers. "This is real, isn't it? You're really going to kill me and sell my meat!"
Adrian could tell this wasn't the kind of client who wanted euphemisms. There would be no ritual or afterlife talk this time. The gene had hit him hard. "That's right." She pulled him close to her chest and reached down, unbuttoning his fly and letting his pants fall to the floor of the prep room. "We know what you need. We're going to make sure you never see tomorrow, Jean."
The fox panted and whined, taking his paw off his groin only long enough for Adrian to pull his boxer shorts down as well, then returned to stroking his erection, now fully exposed. Adrian helped him out of his shirt, then folded his clothes and placed them in a nearby receptacle with an unmistakable flame icon. "My wallet's in there..." he squeaked.
"So?"
"Um... I guess I don't know." His eyes drifted over to the toilet in the corner of the prep room. "Should I use that? I've heard people sometimes lose control at the end."
Adrian shrugged. "It's up to you. We don't require it, but we provide the opportunity if the idea of doing it uncontrollably later is disturbing.
Jean swallowed audibly, and his voice was raspy as he responded, "I'm pretty sure I'm too hard to piss, anyway." Adrian nodded, unsurprised. Jean didn't strike her as the preserve-my-dignity type.
"No worries. Our execution chambers all have drains for a reason. Of course, there are other options, if you'd like to maintain a little bit of decorum." She raised a paw, gesturing to the rack of thick, white medical-grade disposable diapers neatly folded and stacked above a sturdy changing table.
The fox's cheeks flashed bright red as soon as he recognized the puffy white objects. "I mean..." he coughed. "It's not about decorum so much as... it kinda seems right, doesn't it? If we know I'm probably gonna piss myself, then I should wear a diaper? Right?"
"Couldn't agree more," Adrian said, and quickly lifted the fox up off his feet, eliciting a surprised squeak. She laid him down on the changing table, his erection jutting up.
"God, you're strong!"
Adrian gently pried Jean's paw off his cock, then unfolded one of the thick diapers. "Lift up." The fox thrust his hips into the air, and Adrian slid the diaper under his bottom. She carefully ran a finger along the leak guards to stand them up, then fitted his tail into the rear slot and taped him up snugly. "There. Now you'll leave less of a mess behind you. That's sort of the definition of being a good person, isn't it?"
Jean laughed as Adrian set him back down on his feet, his legs spread from the unfamiliar thickness of the execution diaper. "I guess it is!" He followed Adrian through the prep room doors into the Cyan Mile. Large metal doors, reminiscent of bulkhead doors on a ship, lined the hall on either side. "So... how are you going to do it?"
"Well, that's up to you. We have a lot of options."
"I get to choose?"
Adrian nodded. "Yes, you do. Some prey like an intimate exit with their executioner. Sex is allowed, and strangling while fucking is always popular. Others prefer something ritualistic, like self-disembowelment. Or maybe a literal execution scene, like hanging from a gallows or taking a peek through a guillotine. Some just want to go out quick, and we have options for that. Breakneck bars and captive bolt guns."
The execution diaper crinkled, giving away Jean's furtive rubbing at his crotch as Adrian described his options. "I... don't know! I always thought I'd just... you know. Get hung up and bled, or something."
"That's an option."
"But what if it's not the right option?" Jean sounded panicky. Adrian sympathized - this was an important decision, after all. It would affect him for the rest of his life!
"Let me ask you something. they called specifically for me over the intercom. That means you asked for me after hearing descriptions of the available executioners. Right now, there's a wolf, a dragon, and a cat on duty. They're all generally more popular among prey than I am. What caused you to ask for the only prey-species executioner?"
Jean hesitated as he thought about the question. Adrian saw his eyes look her up and down, linger on her pink vulva between her wide thighs, and stop on her large, steel-shod hooves. "Ever since the gene activated, I've been thinking about someone big and strong taking me out. Didn't matter if they were pred or prey, really. And to me, a horse symbolizes strength."
"I see. Maybe none of those options are right for you. If you'd like, I could just take you out with my body." She lifted one foot and set it down on the tile, letting the metallic click of her shoe ring out through the hallway.
The fox took in a shuddering breath, staring at her feet. "That sounds... nice," he choked out. "Painful, though?"
She smirked, heading over to one of the bulkhead-style doors and opening it with a thumbprint scan. "We have ways of managing the pain, if you'd like. Come on in."
Jean took a halting step into the last room he'd ever see, staring at the tile floor with its wide drain and the calming light-blue walls. Aside from a few cabinets on the wall, it was completely empty. "I expected to see nooses and boltguns and stuff."
"There are rooms like that here," Adrian said, clopping over to one of the cabinets and unlocking it with another thumb scan. "Some execution methods require specialized equipment, and if you'd asked for that, I would have taken you to one of those rooms. This one is general-purpose, for less refined methods of switching off prey. Like getting run over roughshod by a sexy mare." She took a small cylinder out of the cabinet and shut it again.
"What's that?" Jean perked his ears as Adrian pulled the sleeve off a small syringe with a hair-thin needle. "I told you we have pain management options."
"Like a painkiller?"
"Sort of. It doesn't stop the pain. It just crosses a couple wires in your brain so that you feel it as pleasure. Usually sexual pleasure, but sometimes as emotional high or even just physical comfort. Something tells me that in your case, it will be sexual."
Jean dipped his nose down. "I don't know... it feels like a bit of a cop-out, you know? Part of my prey drive is about feeling it."
"You're still sacrificing yourself and helping your fellow sentients to eat. Your death is valid whether it's painful or not."
The fox nodded. "Okay. Yeah, I'll take the shot."
Adrian didn't let it show, but she was relieved. Jean didn't seem like the type who would enjoy agony in his last moments, but sometimes clients were stubborn about letting themselves get the most pleasure possible out of their end.
"All right. Hold still, it goes in your neck. Quickest way to the brain."
"Urgh." Jean winced and turned his head to the side. "Make it quick. I hate needles."
Adrian laughed, already pulling the needle out of his neck. "It's already over. Congratulations, you're officially a dead fox walking."
Jean looked up at her and cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"
"Well, the effects of the shot are permanent. Even if we let you go right now, how long do you think you'd last experiencing pain as pleasure?"
The fox blushed, looking down at himself. "I guess that's a good point. So, what do I do now?"
"Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and try to relax," Adrian said, tossing the needle into a discreet sharps disposal container in the wall. "I'll take care of the rest."
Jean did so, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose. Adrian let him get a big lungful - she knew he might not be able to breathe for a bit after this, and didn't want him to black out so soon. Once he was done inhaling, she turned her hip to the side and delivered a full-power metal-shod horse kick directly to the fox's belly.
He let out an involuntary noise between a grunt and a honk as he fell. From his other end came the unmistakable sound of Jean messing his diaper, the seat of which expanded with a crackle. He fell hard on his soiled rump, then curled up reflexively on his side, letting out gurgly choking sounds.
"All right, come on," Adrian said, bending down and lifting his head up by the hair. "You aren't dead yet."
Jean kept gagging for a few more seconds, then coughed a spray of blood onto the tile floor, gasping air in. "Why'sit... feel so good to breathe?" he asked between rasping coughs.
Adrian laughed. "Because you're in agony. Probably a bruised diaphragm, maybe even a burst lung. And the shot is doing its job. Feels good, huh?"
The fox shivered and moaned. "Like my whole body's a dick in a pussy."
"Speaking of which..." The mare was beginning to feel herself wink, turned on by this subby dead-meat fox. She rolled him over on his back and knelt over his head, giving him a great view of her pussy and tailhole, slick and warm and fleshy. She began to lower it onto his face, pressing his nose up inside her. He squeaked muffled noises into her, squeezing at his diapered erection.
"Whuff... there you go." She rocked back and forth on his face, rubbing his ears with her paws. She kept going, masturbating with his snout until his pawing at himself became disjointed twitching and the tips of his ears turned blue. She lifted off his face, trailing streamers of sticky mare juices, and the fox took in another ragged gasp. "God, I thought I wash going! It wash incredible..." he slurred.
"You were, if I hadn't lifted up off you when I did. Tell you what, let's wrap this up, okay? I'm going to get you cumming, and then I'll finish you off."
"Get cumming and get going, huh? Sounds good," the fox grinned, color temporarily returning to his face.
Adrian straightened up, still standing over his face with her legs spread. She figured he'd earned a good final view. She nudged his arms with her hoof so they were spreadeagle, then lifted her leg and stamped her hoof down on one of his paws. She felt the bones breaking like a bundle of twigs under her metal shoe, and the fox bucked his hips, humping at the air in front of him, his tongue lolling out and his eyes slightly crazed. Adrian stomped her other hoof on Jean's other paw, and he grunted, tensing up and squirting his final cum into the padding of his diaper. Adrian's nose picked up the musk of his orgasm, and she knew it was time for him to go, before that last glorious orgasm could end. She lifted her hoof one more time, and this time set it down on his throat, right below his chin. She didn't have to stomp - she knew her weight would do the job.
Jean's moans choked off as his windpipe closed. Then, with an audible pop, his neck lengthened by about an inch. His body jerked as his vertebrae were severed, and his eyes went unfocused, his pupils dilating. Adrian lifted her hoof back up, listening to his final breath rattle out of his lungs and his bladder release, soaking the front of his diaper with more than just cum. "Night night, foxy."
Adrian lifted up his still-twitching body and set it on a metal gurney, just like the one she diapered him on, except not padded. There was no need to account for the comfort of the corpse lying there now, its head sitting at an odd angle and its neck twisting unnaturally. Adrian leaned down and pressed her nose to the front of his diaper, indulging her little secret pleasure. Prey never knew what she did with their bodies before sending them off to the butcher, and by the time she did it, they wouldn't care. She fingered herself as she began, huffing the piss-shit-and-musk smell that meant another satisfied client.
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2019
“She fingered herself as she began, huffing the piss-shit-and-musk smell that meant another satisfied client.”
What a fucking read. I mean, without any context reading this shit and trying to figure out what the fuck was happening was certainly interesting, so props there I guess?
I know logic doesn’t apply to this story because it’s pure fap-matetial, but if the fox’s corpse was stomped on and crushed, what good would his body even be selling it as “food”? Why does this have so many Whitekitten vibes?
What a fucking read. I mean, without any context reading this shit and trying to figure out what the fuck was happening was certainly interesting, so props there I guess?
I know logic doesn’t apply to this story because it’s pure fap-matetial, but if the fox’s corpse was stomped on and crushed, what good would his body even be selling it as “food”? Why does this have so many Whitekitten vibes?
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2016
I mean, she really only tenderized the poor guy from what I could tell, I guess his “meat” would still be fine.
I was trying to figure out if these “clients” were so turned on by their “prey gene” that they willingly came in to be killed or if some crazy police force was doing it. I think there’s some sort of rationalization of the deaths in this guys mind by making sure the ones being murdered are willing participants, like that makes it ok to him…
I feel like this is the same guy that did the story about a horse being hanged in front of a crowd from months ago, it has the same vibes and the same snuck-in diaper fetish with the whole shitting yourself after death thing.
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2019
The horse kicked him in his stomach, stomped on his hands, and crushed his throat. How the fuck would a meat processing facility handle that? (Yeah, I’m looking too deep into this.)
This guy probably has a bunch of lore for this gay universe that I don’t care to look into; it’s all just fap-fuel. Furry death, diaper, and piss/scat fetish.
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2016
I’m pretty sure you have to break bones when skinning an animal to prepare it to be butchered anyways, I don’t hunt but I know a few people who do, and I remember that being part of the process……and I mean you don’t eat the hands and it seems like she basically just decapitated him internally, so I’m sure he could (theoretically) still be processed.
The kick to the gut shouldn’t affect much either seeing as that’s just all yucky organs…..
Ok yeah, no your right, I’m thinking way too much into this dudes furry fap material.
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2019
We both are. Don’t worry. lol.
Also lastly I wanted to say why not use the fox for fur? Foxes don’t have much meat on ‘em to begin with.
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2016
Maybe it’s a faux pas in this fictional world to be seen wearing another animals fur, but not eating their meat. Like how some people will turn their nose up at a pricey fur coat, than go down to the local diner and scarf down a giant cheeseburger.
Either that or they do and it just wasn’t mentioned in this story, who knows.
- Joined
- Apr 12, 2018
I hate the fact that I can recognize the artist.
- Joined
- Feb 8, 2022
deermeat
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Apr 13, 2020
let's not forget the other stuff
[
But I feel like her having a mind of a child makes it all more creepy. Not sure why these people tend to be into vore, pregnancy and inflation. She has stated in the past how she misses RioluTheBlueCat- someone her age with that child-like mentality shouldn't be on the internet unsupervised.
- Joined
- Sep 24, 2021
Wanted to have a go at finding my own furry freakshows and I found this specimen. This dude has a bizarre obsession with snuff, rape, cucking, and psychopathy it seems.
His art is pretty mundane compared to other things in the thread, it's his stories that are interesting. This is the one that first caught my eye.
I'll post my "favorite" in a spoiler below. Apparently some guy gave this dude money to donate to BLM and got this story commission as a reward.
This story truly was a wild ride.
Edit: I took a look at the commissioner and they're too horrifying to not show off.
What a lovely ref sheet, hopefully nothing bad happens to him
Oh.
It was seriously jarring seeing his relatively normal and cutesy ref sheet only to be greeted with these horrors immediately after wards.
His art is pretty mundane compared to other things in the thread, it's his stories that are interesting. This is the one that first caught my eye.
I'll post my "favorite" in a spoiler below. Apparently some guy gave this dude money to donate to BLM and got this story commission as a reward.
Commission for 
xkWebster for their donation to BLM.
Full of splurty, crunchy goodness (please check the keywords before reading).
Broken Web
Ronin had to bend down to knock on the door of the unassuming suburban house, which served as the huge brown horse’s first insight into the species of his new client, Webster. Due to recent circumstances closing down the gym he used to work from, the muscular personal trainer had needed to add home visits to his repertoire of services. For the most part, it hadn’t been too much of a hiccup. As he worked primarily with athletes, many of them had their own equipment at home anyway. And if not, he was pretty good at improvising. Besides, in some cases, having a little privacy away from public eyes was plus.
The stallion crossed his bulky arms around his bulging chest and drummed his fingers on his biceps as he listened to the thud of footsteps approaching the front door. When it swung open, however, he felt a ball of disgust lurch from his gut into his throat.
His nose wrinkled as he looked down at the obese orange goat in the doorway. The yellow-eyed fur looked up at him with a shy smile, offered a greeting, and extended a pudgy arm to invite him inside, but all Ronin could do was stare at the furry blob’s fat gut, stretching out his shirt so much it couldn’t even hide his bellybutton.
Despite his desire to vomit, grimacing silently, the horse plodded inside. Instantly, he was struck by the empty packets of snacks and drained bottles of soda scattered around the house, and the row of video games underneath the goat’s television -- signs of an utterly wasted life.
He couldn’t believe it. Where the fuck did this walking marshmallow get his contact info from? Ronin worked with men, not… bloated, blobby bitches like this! His usual clients simply needed him to believe in them and their bodies, to push them like they needed to be pushed, and use his knowledge to unlock their physical potential. And he saw it as a privilege to help those motivated and dedicated furs to reach their ultimate potential and live their best lives. But this… he didn’t even know where to fucking start.
“So uhh…” Webster said, scratching his head between his horns and breaking the silence of Ronin’s horror, “what do you want me to do?”
Ronin swallowed hard and let out a quiet sigh. This was really testing him, but… well, if this disgusting creature had developed enough self-awareness to want to change its lifestyle, it was his solemn duty to do his best to help it.
And so, he bit his tongue, and did his job -- wondering all the while if, after a ton of dedication and effort from the goat, they might one day be able to redeem this being from his vile lifestyle.
He didn’t have to wonder for long.
They started with jumping jacks, but they’d barely gotten into double digits before Webster was panting and sweating. That was fine… as the house rumbled so much the horse feared it might crumble around them, and Ronin wasn’t sure he could look at the up-down jiggle of the fur’s fat much longer anyway. So they tried squats, and Webster instantly started dripping with sweat, the orange colour fading from his face as his whole body trembled weakly, threatening to give way. And so, they gave up on that quickly too. They tried weights, but the goat complained that everything he offered was too heavy to lift, and Ronin couldn’t believe that there were actually people this weak in the world. Whatever… He swallowed his rising anger, and they swapped to push-ups… knee push-ups. And after a dozen, or less, Webster complained that his elbows were hurting, and no matter how much Ronin pushed him to keep going, the goat splatted on the floor and refused to budge.
He’d tried soothing, and encouraging, but this time, only fifteen minutes in, he let his irritation and disgust get the better of him. “C’mon you fat fuck, get up!” the horse yelled, standing over him.
Webster was panting so hard he could barely reply, but a wounded look appeared in his eyes. “I’m… trying!”
“No, you’re not!” the horse snapped. “You don’t want to live like this anymore, do you? Then prove it! Work for it!”
The goat crawled up onto his hands and knees, and plopped over backwards, sitting upright on his butt. “I think… this was a mistake. I don’t think… I want this anymore”.
Ronin’s fists curled into instant fists. “Are you serious?”
The goat frowned up at him. “Look, I… I’ll still pay you. I’m sorry I wasted your time. It’s just… I only did this because my boyfriend wanted me to. I’m… pretty happy with my body. And so is he, actually. He just suggested this for my health, because his dad had heart problems, that’s all. I think I’ll just, start walking more, maybe”.
The horse paused in disbelief, unable to find the words to express the total contempt he felt in that instant. Eventually, huffing air heavily down his nostrils into a rapidly rising chest, he said slowly, “You’re… happy… how you are?”
The goat finally stood up, and he smiled weakly and shrugged casually. “Yeah”.
The words that had caught in Ronin’s throat suddenly came pouring out in a boiling waterfall of rage. “You’re happy being a walking fuckin marshmallow? A disgusting waste of a tremendous amount of space? A… disgusting, grotesque blob of a goat? You have no right to be happy! You should be fuckin ashamed! You should be crumbling with the guilt of inflicting the sight of your hideous body upon the poor souls who come across you every day!”
The goat stared back speechless, stunned, shrinking away from the roaring horse. “I… I think you should… leave”.
But it was far too late for that. He had tried. Really. He was willing to stifle his disgust and fury to help this abomination better itself. But if it didn’t even want to get better, if it was actually content with its apparent life… then it was beyond pity. Beyond help. And something needed to be done. “No, I came here to fix a problem”, Ronin said, stomping forward, the muscles in his arms bulging. “Your boyfriend’s right. He doesn’t deserve a morbidly obese fucker like you as his partner. And I’m gonna help him out”.
Webster’s face contorted in confusion. “Wha--”
A heavy fist connected with his face, and the goat stumbled backwards against his living room wall. He gasped in shock and pain, but he had no sooner opened his mouth to say something than another blow sent his skull backwards, smacking against the wall with a thump. Ronin punched him hard in his cushiony gut, and the goat crumbled forward, falling to his knees at the powerful horse’s feet. The stallion wiped Webster’s gut-sweat from his knuckles against his shirt as he looked down at the groaning goat and grunted, “Ugh… I don’t even wanna touch you”.
“Stop!” the goat screamed. And he went to keep screaming, but a hook to his cheek sent him tumbling onto the floor. Suddenly overcome with panic, Webster tried to crawl away from his attacker like the bloated little slug he was. But Ronin simply used the opportunity to kick him. Again and again and again, throwing his weight into his hoof each time, as rage coursed through his body.
But it wasn’t enough to calm his anger. Webster had too much padding for his kicks to do much damage. And that wasn’t good enough for the horse. The goat deserved to suffer. And that was his new job. He wanted to make Webster hurt. He wanted more. Needed more. A lot more. And as he looked down at the pathetic, crying, begging goat, his cock throbbed to hardness inside his pants, straining to escape from its fabric constraints to join in on the fun the rest of his body was having.
He stared the goat down as he unleashed his huge, fleshy, veiny, drooling dick, and smirked as the goat’s yellow eyes widened in panic.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the goat stuttered. “I’ll… exercise! Whatever! I’ll fix myself, I promise. I’m sorry!”
“Oh you’ll be sorry”, Ronin grunted. He looked down at the goat, open mouthed with multiple chins, and as soon as he had the impulse, he acted on it, stomping his broad hoof down on the goat’s mouth hard. A shiver of pleasure moved through his muscled body, stimulating his swollen rod wonderfully, as Webster let out a gurgled scream, and he heard and felt the crunch of teeth breaking underneath his hoof. Now, he was starting to enjoy himself.
When he lifted his foot again, the goat frantically tried to roll over and escape, like a turtle on its shell, but he rested his hoof on Webster’s chest and smirked as he watched the blob suffer. The goat sputtered out a cough, turning his head as he sprayed a mess of blood and teeth onto the carpet, before gasping, “Why?”
The horse dropped to his knees either side of Webster’s bleeding, battered head, and grunted, “Because I don’t want you biting my dick off while I cram it down your fat fuckin throat”. He gripped his thick drooling shaft in his hand and gave it a few pumps in front of Webster’s eyes, and the goat’s eyes slowly fixated on the giant pole, widening with horror as they came to terms with the terrible size difference between that meat and his throat. “Don’t look so scared”, the horse said, smirking to himself as he angled his dick between the goat’s swollen, bloody lips. “You clearly never stop cramming stuff down your throat, so how bad could this be?”
Resting forward with his hands on the goat’s fat man-tits, the horse threw his hips forward in a hard deep thrust. His cock head forced its way past Webster’s lips, down his throat, and beyond. The obese fur trembled violently underneath him, but Ronin was far too big, and as he pushed his cock all the way down to the hilt, he sighed with a soothing sense of satisfaction, feeling the throat convulse around the entire length of his shaft.
Then he let loose. He fucked the goat’s throat with hard, hateful thrusts, his fuzzy balls smacking against the goat’s face -- the growing ache in his sack only adding to his pleasure. Chubby hands pressed frantically against his muscled thighs, but the goat hadn’t lifted a weight in his life and wasn’t about to push the huge horse off him anytime soon.
He breathed in the goat’s terror and basked in his own pleasure until the boiling, rumbling ache in his balls intensified, his muscles tightened, and bliss sparked through his huge body. He roared loud, his deep voice echoing throughout the goat’s empty house, as a powerful orgasm moved through his cock, his flare widened, and he came hard down the fat fuck’s spasming throat. As the walls of Webster’s insides tightened around his dick, desperately seeking oxygen, the goat received only a thick torrent of horse seed. And as he choked on it violently, his lungs worked to only suck the horse off more.
When it all passed, Ronin flopped forward, panting heavily. He sat there, still shivering with pleasure, and thought about how easy it would be to… just not move. How effortless it would be to leave his cock blocking the goat’s throat, even leaning forward a little so his ball flesh blocked the goat’s nostrils. How easily he could make the world a better place by snuffing this food hog with his cock.
But another idea took hold before that could happen, and it was too tempting to ignore. The water he had chugged during his mid-morning work-out had caught up with him, so the horse leant back, and began to caress his body, relaxing and smiling peacefully as his semi-soft cock expanded with a torrent of hot piss straight down the goat’s throat. The squirming bitch fought back with renewed energy, his entire body heaving and jiggling like jelly as he coughed and choked on piss, but Ronin just let out a long, loud, satisfied sigh, stroking his abs, and soaking in his own masculine superiority as he put this bitch in his place. The big stallion pissed hard, for a long time, emptying his bladder entirely inside the goat. And if Webster wasn’t so goddamn fat, he imagined he might have been able to see the fur’s body swell as his stomachs bloated with liquid from his cock.
When his stream finally ebbed, he shuffled backwards and pulled his floppy cock free. Web immediately rolled onto his side, choking and gasping for air desperately. Ronin sat there, watching the goat suffer and toying with his cock. Despite the joy he’d found in mouth-raping the fat fuck, he was acutely attuned to his body’s needs, and he realised he was still… overcome with disgust. It wasn’t enough. It hadn’t gone far towards satiating his righteous rage.
And so, that needed taking care of. While Webster wheezed for air underneath him, Ronin shuffled forward and sat on top of his fat chest, wrapping his hands around the goat’s horns. “Let me show you what a proper fuckin man can do”.
All at once, before Webster even knew what was happening, the horse used the raw strength of his powerful, sculpted, and honed muscles to wrench his arms apart and break one of the goat’s horns free of his skull. His victim let out an agonised, terrified scream, but Ronin was already repositioning to crouch over the fat fur with a knee braced against him as he ripped the second horn free as well.
The hoarse sounds of pain soothed his angry body, and he smirked to himself, closing his eyes a little as he thought about how good this felt. It truly felt like he was fulfilling his purpose -- he rewarded those who worked hard to improve themselves, and punished those who didn’t.
When he finally looked down at the yellow, pleading eyes, he got an idea that just feel too appropriate to not do. After all, the mere thought sent blood rushing to his junk, and his cock soared into the air again.
He knelt down either side of the goat’s head again, facing down Webster’s round body this time. Then, he gripped the horns with one in each hand like daggers, pointing down, and grinned manically at the suffering goat. Even as he raised them in the air above the goat’s face, Web still didn’t seem to realise what the horse was about to do. Perhaps it only hit him the same moment that Ronin slammed both fists downwards, and the pointed ends of the goat’s severed horns connected with his eyes, bursting the meaty bubbles and penetrating his skull until they cracked through the backs of his eye sockets.
Web let out a blissfully horrific scream unlike anything Ronin had ever heard before, and he left both horns protruding from the goat’s minced eyes as he raised his hands in the air again. “Shut the fuck up, fatty!” he roared, and he rained his balled fists down upon the goat in a surge of cathartic rage, cutting out the goat’s voice in an instant when he punched him hard in the throat, and dislocating and cracking his jaw when he punched Web’s open mouth again and again. The goat’s screams turned into a low groan of agony, and Ronin’s dick throbbed so hard it spurted a stream of precum into the air to land on his victim’s fat gut. He wrenched one horn free, but left the other in Web’s skull, as he angled his once-again-stiff rod towards the bloody hole he’d just made in the goat’s skull.
The goat, of course, didn’t see it coming as the horse slammed his dick inside the goat’s eye socket, sending red gooey meat spurting out around the sides of his dick, but he let out a panicked, gurgled groan and his sweaty hands slapped pathetically against the horse’s body, fighting as much as he was able. It was no use. Ronin didn’t hold back anymore, and he placed his broad hands firmly around the goat’s skull as he threw his weight into hard thrusts. Webster begged for him to stop -- at least, Ronin assumed that’s what he was begging for, because with a cracked, floppy jaw, the goat couldn’t form words anymore, and the sounds he made came out as, “Nnnngnghhhh, mmmnnghhhh!”
His flared head met resistance, but Ronin showed the goat what a little determination could achieve. With hard, deep thrusts, his powerful horse cock broke slammed the cracked bone between Webster’s eyes and brain, and Ronin let out a triumphant roar as his flared head suddenly broke through and plunged into the goat’s warm, gooey brain. As the goat trembled and convulsed violently underneath him, the horse erupted into an ecstatic laugh.
Showing the goat all the respect he deserved, Ronin gripped the skull tightly as he fucked the goat’s eyehole hard. Panting with lust, muscles bulging through his fur, he felt another orgasm bearing down upon him fast. The room filled with wet squelchy noises as his cock plunged in and out of the groaning goat’s skull, and the folds of the brain within ripped and tore under the force of his thrusts. His body shivered with pleasure as he thought about what he was doing -- so fucked up, but so right at the same time. He was doing Webster’s boyfriend, and everyone else in the world, a fucking favour by ending the goat’s life. A body and a brain and a life was a gift. And what had this disgusting creature done with that gift? What had he amounted to? A fat sweaty slob who looked like he would struggle even getting out of bed in the morning. This was what he deserved for wasting his life. His body and brain were finally being given a purpose. By Ronin.
As he ripped neurons apart and raped the personality and memories and thoughts and dreams out of the goat’s skull with his dick, Webster’s movements grew chaotic and weak. If there was any part of his brain left to experience what was happening in these last few seconds, it would have been wishing to die. Ronin howled with pleasure and threw his hips forward, burying his shaft in the goat’s skull and snuffing out any life that remained. His muscular body tensed hard and his balls tightened inside his sack as his cock erupted with another load inside the goat’s skull, mixing with the churned remains of his gooey brain. Letting out his pent up rage and lust all at once, he brought his powerful fists down on the goat’s face again and again as he came, cracking and shattering bone, caving in his face. Hot blood sprayed across the carpet, Web’s twitching body, and his own magnificent abs, until the goat’s head was no longer recognisable as a head. What a few moments ago had been a person was now just a fucked mess of blood and meat and bone.
Panting heavily, the horse sat backwards, withdrawing his cock from the goat’s eye socket with a long wet schlllllllllkk. Suction caused the dead fur’s skull to raise into the air until his cock was free, when it thudded against the floor lifelessly, oozing red and white from the gaping wound where Web’s eye used to rest. Ronin looked down at the mess he’d made, and smiled broadly, knowing he’d done his job, and done it magnificently. He lived to make the world a better place by ridding it of fatness and obesity. In most cases, that could be achieved through dedication, a proper diet, and exercise. But if the disgusting slobs he tried to help refused his services, well… he still had a job to do, one way or another.
xkWebster for their donation to BLM.Full of splurty, crunchy goodness (please check the keywords before reading).
Broken Web
Ronin had to bend down to knock on the door of the unassuming suburban house, which served as the huge brown horse’s first insight into the species of his new client, Webster. Due to recent circumstances closing down the gym he used to work from, the muscular personal trainer had needed to add home visits to his repertoire of services. For the most part, it hadn’t been too much of a hiccup. As he worked primarily with athletes, many of them had their own equipment at home anyway. And if not, he was pretty good at improvising. Besides, in some cases, having a little privacy away from public eyes was plus.
The stallion crossed his bulky arms around his bulging chest and drummed his fingers on his biceps as he listened to the thud of footsteps approaching the front door. When it swung open, however, he felt a ball of disgust lurch from his gut into his throat.
His nose wrinkled as he looked down at the obese orange goat in the doorway. The yellow-eyed fur looked up at him with a shy smile, offered a greeting, and extended a pudgy arm to invite him inside, but all Ronin could do was stare at the furry blob’s fat gut, stretching out his shirt so much it couldn’t even hide his bellybutton.
Despite his desire to vomit, grimacing silently, the horse plodded inside. Instantly, he was struck by the empty packets of snacks and drained bottles of soda scattered around the house, and the row of video games underneath the goat’s television -- signs of an utterly wasted life.
He couldn’t believe it. Where the fuck did this walking marshmallow get his contact info from? Ronin worked with men, not… bloated, blobby bitches like this! His usual clients simply needed him to believe in them and their bodies, to push them like they needed to be pushed, and use his knowledge to unlock their physical potential. And he saw it as a privilege to help those motivated and dedicated furs to reach their ultimate potential and live their best lives. But this… he didn’t even know where to fucking start.
“So uhh…” Webster said, scratching his head between his horns and breaking the silence of Ronin’s horror, “what do you want me to do?”
Ronin swallowed hard and let out a quiet sigh. This was really testing him, but… well, if this disgusting creature had developed enough self-awareness to want to change its lifestyle, it was his solemn duty to do his best to help it.
And so, he bit his tongue, and did his job -- wondering all the while if, after a ton of dedication and effort from the goat, they might one day be able to redeem this being from his vile lifestyle.
He didn’t have to wonder for long.
They started with jumping jacks, but they’d barely gotten into double digits before Webster was panting and sweating. That was fine… as the house rumbled so much the horse feared it might crumble around them, and Ronin wasn’t sure he could look at the up-down jiggle of the fur’s fat much longer anyway. So they tried squats, and Webster instantly started dripping with sweat, the orange colour fading from his face as his whole body trembled weakly, threatening to give way. And so, they gave up on that quickly too. They tried weights, but the goat complained that everything he offered was too heavy to lift, and Ronin couldn’t believe that there were actually people this weak in the world. Whatever… He swallowed his rising anger, and they swapped to push-ups… knee push-ups. And after a dozen, or less, Webster complained that his elbows were hurting, and no matter how much Ronin pushed him to keep going, the goat splatted on the floor and refused to budge.
He’d tried soothing, and encouraging, but this time, only fifteen minutes in, he let his irritation and disgust get the better of him. “C’mon you fat fuck, get up!” the horse yelled, standing over him.
Webster was panting so hard he could barely reply, but a wounded look appeared in his eyes. “I’m… trying!”
“No, you’re not!” the horse snapped. “You don’t want to live like this anymore, do you? Then prove it! Work for it!”
The goat crawled up onto his hands and knees, and plopped over backwards, sitting upright on his butt. “I think… this was a mistake. I don’t think… I want this anymore”.
Ronin’s fists curled into instant fists. “Are you serious?”
The goat frowned up at him. “Look, I… I’ll still pay you. I’m sorry I wasted your time. It’s just… I only did this because my boyfriend wanted me to. I’m… pretty happy with my body. And so is he, actually. He just suggested this for my health, because his dad had heart problems, that’s all. I think I’ll just, start walking more, maybe”.
The horse paused in disbelief, unable to find the words to express the total contempt he felt in that instant. Eventually, huffing air heavily down his nostrils into a rapidly rising chest, he said slowly, “You’re… happy… how you are?”
The goat finally stood up, and he smiled weakly and shrugged casually. “Yeah”.
The words that had caught in Ronin’s throat suddenly came pouring out in a boiling waterfall of rage. “You’re happy being a walking fuckin marshmallow? A disgusting waste of a tremendous amount of space? A… disgusting, grotesque blob of a goat? You have no right to be happy! You should be fuckin ashamed! You should be crumbling with the guilt of inflicting the sight of your hideous body upon the poor souls who come across you every day!”
The goat stared back speechless, stunned, shrinking away from the roaring horse. “I… I think you should… leave”.
But it was far too late for that. He had tried. Really. He was willing to stifle his disgust and fury to help this abomination better itself. But if it didn’t even want to get better, if it was actually content with its apparent life… then it was beyond pity. Beyond help. And something needed to be done. “No, I came here to fix a problem”, Ronin said, stomping forward, the muscles in his arms bulging. “Your boyfriend’s right. He doesn’t deserve a morbidly obese fucker like you as his partner. And I’m gonna help him out”.
Webster’s face contorted in confusion. “Wha--”
A heavy fist connected with his face, and the goat stumbled backwards against his living room wall. He gasped in shock and pain, but he had no sooner opened his mouth to say something than another blow sent his skull backwards, smacking against the wall with a thump. Ronin punched him hard in his cushiony gut, and the goat crumbled forward, falling to his knees at the powerful horse’s feet. The stallion wiped Webster’s gut-sweat from his knuckles against his shirt as he looked down at the groaning goat and grunted, “Ugh… I don’t even wanna touch you”.
“Stop!” the goat screamed. And he went to keep screaming, but a hook to his cheek sent him tumbling onto the floor. Suddenly overcome with panic, Webster tried to crawl away from his attacker like the bloated little slug he was. But Ronin simply used the opportunity to kick him. Again and again and again, throwing his weight into his hoof each time, as rage coursed through his body.
But it wasn’t enough to calm his anger. Webster had too much padding for his kicks to do much damage. And that wasn’t good enough for the horse. The goat deserved to suffer. And that was his new job. He wanted to make Webster hurt. He wanted more. Needed more. A lot more. And as he looked down at the pathetic, crying, begging goat, his cock throbbed to hardness inside his pants, straining to escape from its fabric constraints to join in on the fun the rest of his body was having.
He stared the goat down as he unleashed his huge, fleshy, veiny, drooling dick, and smirked as the goat’s yellow eyes widened in panic.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the goat stuttered. “I’ll… exercise! Whatever! I’ll fix myself, I promise. I’m sorry!”
“Oh you’ll be sorry”, Ronin grunted. He looked down at the goat, open mouthed with multiple chins, and as soon as he had the impulse, he acted on it, stomping his broad hoof down on the goat’s mouth hard. A shiver of pleasure moved through his muscled body, stimulating his swollen rod wonderfully, as Webster let out a gurgled scream, and he heard and felt the crunch of teeth breaking underneath his hoof. Now, he was starting to enjoy himself.
When he lifted his foot again, the goat frantically tried to roll over and escape, like a turtle on its shell, but he rested his hoof on Webster’s chest and smirked as he watched the blob suffer. The goat sputtered out a cough, turning his head as he sprayed a mess of blood and teeth onto the carpet, before gasping, “Why?”
The horse dropped to his knees either side of Webster’s bleeding, battered head, and grunted, “Because I don’t want you biting my dick off while I cram it down your fat fuckin throat”. He gripped his thick drooling shaft in his hand and gave it a few pumps in front of Webster’s eyes, and the goat’s eyes slowly fixated on the giant pole, widening with horror as they came to terms with the terrible size difference between that meat and his throat. “Don’t look so scared”, the horse said, smirking to himself as he angled his dick between the goat’s swollen, bloody lips. “You clearly never stop cramming stuff down your throat, so how bad could this be?”
Resting forward with his hands on the goat’s fat man-tits, the horse threw his hips forward in a hard deep thrust. His cock head forced its way past Webster’s lips, down his throat, and beyond. The obese fur trembled violently underneath him, but Ronin was far too big, and as he pushed his cock all the way down to the hilt, he sighed with a soothing sense of satisfaction, feeling the throat convulse around the entire length of his shaft.
Then he let loose. He fucked the goat’s throat with hard, hateful thrusts, his fuzzy balls smacking against the goat’s face -- the growing ache in his sack only adding to his pleasure. Chubby hands pressed frantically against his muscled thighs, but the goat hadn’t lifted a weight in his life and wasn’t about to push the huge horse off him anytime soon.
He breathed in the goat’s terror and basked in his own pleasure until the boiling, rumbling ache in his balls intensified, his muscles tightened, and bliss sparked through his huge body. He roared loud, his deep voice echoing throughout the goat’s empty house, as a powerful orgasm moved through his cock, his flare widened, and he came hard down the fat fuck’s spasming throat. As the walls of Webster’s insides tightened around his dick, desperately seeking oxygen, the goat received only a thick torrent of horse seed. And as he choked on it violently, his lungs worked to only suck the horse off more.
When it all passed, Ronin flopped forward, panting heavily. He sat there, still shivering with pleasure, and thought about how easy it would be to… just not move. How effortless it would be to leave his cock blocking the goat’s throat, even leaning forward a little so his ball flesh blocked the goat’s nostrils. How easily he could make the world a better place by snuffing this food hog with his cock.
But another idea took hold before that could happen, and it was too tempting to ignore. The water he had chugged during his mid-morning work-out had caught up with him, so the horse leant back, and began to caress his body, relaxing and smiling peacefully as his semi-soft cock expanded with a torrent of hot piss straight down the goat’s throat. The squirming bitch fought back with renewed energy, his entire body heaving and jiggling like jelly as he coughed and choked on piss, but Ronin just let out a long, loud, satisfied sigh, stroking his abs, and soaking in his own masculine superiority as he put this bitch in his place. The big stallion pissed hard, for a long time, emptying his bladder entirely inside the goat. And if Webster wasn’t so goddamn fat, he imagined he might have been able to see the fur’s body swell as his stomachs bloated with liquid from his cock.
When his stream finally ebbed, he shuffled backwards and pulled his floppy cock free. Web immediately rolled onto his side, choking and gasping for air desperately. Ronin sat there, watching the goat suffer and toying with his cock. Despite the joy he’d found in mouth-raping the fat fuck, he was acutely attuned to his body’s needs, and he realised he was still… overcome with disgust. It wasn’t enough. It hadn’t gone far towards satiating his righteous rage.
And so, that needed taking care of. While Webster wheezed for air underneath him, Ronin shuffled forward and sat on top of his fat chest, wrapping his hands around the goat’s horns. “Let me show you what a proper fuckin man can do”.
All at once, before Webster even knew what was happening, the horse used the raw strength of his powerful, sculpted, and honed muscles to wrench his arms apart and break one of the goat’s horns free of his skull. His victim let out an agonised, terrified scream, but Ronin was already repositioning to crouch over the fat fur with a knee braced against him as he ripped the second horn free as well.
The hoarse sounds of pain soothed his angry body, and he smirked to himself, closing his eyes a little as he thought about how good this felt. It truly felt like he was fulfilling his purpose -- he rewarded those who worked hard to improve themselves, and punished those who didn’t.
When he finally looked down at the yellow, pleading eyes, he got an idea that just feel too appropriate to not do. After all, the mere thought sent blood rushing to his junk, and his cock soared into the air again.
He knelt down either side of the goat’s head again, facing down Webster’s round body this time. Then, he gripped the horns with one in each hand like daggers, pointing down, and grinned manically at the suffering goat. Even as he raised them in the air above the goat’s face, Web still didn’t seem to realise what the horse was about to do. Perhaps it only hit him the same moment that Ronin slammed both fists downwards, and the pointed ends of the goat’s severed horns connected with his eyes, bursting the meaty bubbles and penetrating his skull until they cracked through the backs of his eye sockets.
Web let out a blissfully horrific scream unlike anything Ronin had ever heard before, and he left both horns protruding from the goat’s minced eyes as he raised his hands in the air again. “Shut the fuck up, fatty!” he roared, and he rained his balled fists down upon the goat in a surge of cathartic rage, cutting out the goat’s voice in an instant when he punched him hard in the throat, and dislocating and cracking his jaw when he punched Web’s open mouth again and again. The goat’s screams turned into a low groan of agony, and Ronin’s dick throbbed so hard it spurted a stream of precum into the air to land on his victim’s fat gut. He wrenched one horn free, but left the other in Web’s skull, as he angled his once-again-stiff rod towards the bloody hole he’d just made in the goat’s skull.
The goat, of course, didn’t see it coming as the horse slammed his dick inside the goat’s eye socket, sending red gooey meat spurting out around the sides of his dick, but he let out a panicked, gurgled groan and his sweaty hands slapped pathetically against the horse’s body, fighting as much as he was able. It was no use. Ronin didn’t hold back anymore, and he placed his broad hands firmly around the goat’s skull as he threw his weight into hard thrusts. Webster begged for him to stop -- at least, Ronin assumed that’s what he was begging for, because with a cracked, floppy jaw, the goat couldn’t form words anymore, and the sounds he made came out as, “Nnnngnghhhh, mmmnnghhhh!”
His flared head met resistance, but Ronin showed the goat what a little determination could achieve. With hard, deep thrusts, his powerful horse cock broke slammed the cracked bone between Webster’s eyes and brain, and Ronin let out a triumphant roar as his flared head suddenly broke through and plunged into the goat’s warm, gooey brain. As the goat trembled and convulsed violently underneath him, the horse erupted into an ecstatic laugh.
Showing the goat all the respect he deserved, Ronin gripped the skull tightly as he fucked the goat’s eyehole hard. Panting with lust, muscles bulging through his fur, he felt another orgasm bearing down upon him fast. The room filled with wet squelchy noises as his cock plunged in and out of the groaning goat’s skull, and the folds of the brain within ripped and tore under the force of his thrusts. His body shivered with pleasure as he thought about what he was doing -- so fucked up, but so right at the same time. He was doing Webster’s boyfriend, and everyone else in the world, a fucking favour by ending the goat’s life. A body and a brain and a life was a gift. And what had this disgusting creature done with that gift? What had he amounted to? A fat sweaty slob who looked like he would struggle even getting out of bed in the morning. This was what he deserved for wasting his life. His body and brain were finally being given a purpose. By Ronin.
As he ripped neurons apart and raped the personality and memories and thoughts and dreams out of the goat’s skull with his dick, Webster’s movements grew chaotic and weak. If there was any part of his brain left to experience what was happening in these last few seconds, it would have been wishing to die. Ronin howled with pleasure and threw his hips forward, burying his shaft in the goat’s skull and snuffing out any life that remained. His muscular body tensed hard and his balls tightened inside his sack as his cock erupted with another load inside the goat’s skull, mixing with the churned remains of his gooey brain. Letting out his pent up rage and lust all at once, he brought his powerful fists down on the goat’s face again and again as he came, cracking and shattering bone, caving in his face. Hot blood sprayed across the carpet, Web’s twitching body, and his own magnificent abs, until the goat’s head was no longer recognisable as a head. What a few moments ago had been a person was now just a fucked mess of blood and meat and bone.
Panting heavily, the horse sat backwards, withdrawing his cock from the goat’s eye socket with a long wet schlllllllllkk. Suction caused the dead fur’s skull to raise into the air until his cock was free, when it thudded against the floor lifelessly, oozing red and white from the gaping wound where Web’s eye used to rest. Ronin looked down at the mess he’d made, and smiled broadly, knowing he’d done his job, and done it magnificently. He lived to make the world a better place by ridding it of fatness and obesity. In most cases, that could be achieved through dedication, a proper diet, and exercise. But if the disgusting slobs he tried to help refused his services, well… he still had a job to do, one way or another.
This story truly was a wild ride.
Edit: I took a look at the commissioner and they're too horrifying to not show off.
What a lovely ref sheet, hopefully nothing bad happens to him
Oh.
It was seriously jarring seeing his relatively normal and cutesy ref sheet only to be greeted with these horrors immediately after wards.
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- Joined
- Aug 18, 2020
I thought that Webster guy sounded familiar and, sure enough, it's the same guy from that feeder story a few months ago. I guess portraying yourself as trash is easier than actually doing something about it. Sad.
- Joined
- Nov 17, 2019
Foreshadowing?