- Joined
- Jul 4, 2019
Maybe I'm not one to talk but this is fucking WEAK SAUCE.
Leave and don't come back until you've got something REAL repugnant.
Furry Art Freak Show - From ungodly eyesores to nauseating masterpieces
- Thread starter OwO What's This?
- Start date
Leave and don't come back until you've got something REAL repugnant.
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2018
I. hate you. couldn't just make the ponies into changelings which are basically bug-horses, nope, had to go all in and make them insects. my skin's crawling.Oh, that's a new one to me...
- Joined
- Jun 14, 2018
Did you maybe misquote and meant to quote one of the pictures I posted earlier?
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2018
oh yeah, but I've been traumatized enough I ain't going back there
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2019
Spiderbox's work gets quite a bit gory than what's presented here. I just don't have the gall to let that shit touch my disks.
- Joined
- Jun 16, 2018
I don't have anything to back it up but isn't this the dude who used irl photos as reference or am I thinking of someone with a similar art style
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2019
Sure does look it, and the rat snatomy is very suspiciously accurate >.>
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2020
Does writing count for this thread? This story is just well-written enough that it crawled under my skin and refused to leave for a few hours. I must be going soft.
Be warned that it contains child murder:
I'm getting too old for this shit.
Be warned that it contains child murder:
Lisa hefted the dead ferret kit over her shoulder, giving the noose slack and slipping it off his neck. He'd earned a nasty short drop and strangle with his behavior since tagging, refusing to even wear his execution diaper to the appointment. Judging by the ferret kit’s thrashing in the last few minutes of his life and by his soaked jean-shorts, he’d come to regret both his behavior and his choice in apparel.
The cub was at peace now, though, and Lisa held nothing against him. She placed him gently into the disposal chute, wet clothes and all, and listened to the still-warm corpse slide down to the processing level. She wagged her shaggy yellow tail and grabbed a mop, sweeping the ferret’s final puddle down the drain in the middle of the floor.
Aside from that white tile floor, gently sloped toward the drain, the execution room looked like a cross between a pediatric doctor’s office and a grade school classroom. A mural of popular cartoon characters spread across one wall, opposite a counter, a wide stainless-steel basin sink, and cabinets full of bottles and shining implements of glass and steel.
The center of the room was occupied by what appeared to be some kind of massage table, padded and bent at a shallow angle, allowing the occupant to lie face-down, muzzle looking through a padded ring. Just underneath the ring was a foot-long gray cylinder attached to a stabilizing arm on the table headpiece. A quarter inch of dull steel rod poked out of the top of the boltgun cylinder, surrounded by soft rubber foam for the comfort of the condemned.
“Shit,” Lisa said, glancing at the clock on the wall. She snagged the noose from the hook in the ceiling and tossed it down the disposal chute. The next condemned cub would be there any minute, and there was no need to frighten him with a noose. According to his report, he’d been a model blacktag, giving his family very little trouble for choosing his brothers over him, and he’d earned a nice, clean bolting.
“All right, Corey, I think this is the room,” Lisa heard a high-pitched, harried voice say as the door swung open. A short, wide-hipped mouse woman with ears as large as her head led a small mouse boy behind her by the paw. According to his file, Corey was 12 years old, the runtiest of his litter. Three of his litter-mates had actually been liquidated before him, but the family couldn’t justify feeding him any more. They’d been waiting for good grades in the absence of physical ability, but those had never materialized.
“Hi there, Corey.” Lisa put her paws on her knees, bending down to his level and giving him a smile. “Your mom says you’ve been very well-behaved. Will you behave for me today, too?”
Corey stared up at her through thick glasses, one large ear perked up and the other weighed down by the heavy black plastic tag that marked him as disposable. “I-- uh, I--”
Lisa was used to this reaction. As a longhair golden retriever with blue eyes and a wide, friendly snout, she probably didn’t match most kids’ mental image of the executioner who was going to take their lives. The confusion often caused cubs to be speechless for the first minute or so of the last ten minutes of their lives. She cranked her smile up a notch. This mouse boy was cute!
“All right, Corey, looks like you’re in capable hands now,” the mouse’s mother said, leaning down and giving him a quick kiss between the ears. “It’s been lovely having you. Behave for the nice lady, now.” With that, she turned and swept out of the room, closing the door behind her and leaving the dazed runt behind.
“My name is Lisa, and I’ll be helping you die today, sweetie.” Euphemisms were rarely useful, Lisa thought. The kids either didn’t understand them, and asked awkward questions, or they did, and were more scared of the mild deception than the bare truth. The chances were good that the mouse cub knew what we was here for, anyway.
Corey took in a deep breath, obviously gathering his courage. “Will it hurt?” he asked in a voice that was high-pitched, but clearer than she expected from the obviously underdeveloped runt.
She shook her head. “No, you’ll be bolted as long as you cooperate with me, so it will be over in an instant. Come over here.” She took his paw and lead him toward the boltgun table. She could tell from the muffled crinkle as he walked that his mother had made sure the boy was properly attired. Or, equally possible, they may have just not bothered toilet training the runt. “I’ll go ahead and take these.” She lifted the thick glasses off his face.
“Hey!” he squeaked, rubbing his bleary eyes. “I can’t see very well.”
“You don’t need to see very well anymore, sweetie. We’ll give these to some other boy who was born with bad eyes like you, for him to use as long as he needs them. That’s how you got them in the first place, isn’t it?”
The mouse blushed and nodded, but still looked uncomfortable, blinking at his blurry surroundings.
“All right, time to strip.” She hooked her fingers under his striped shirt and began to lift it, exposing the waistband of his execution diaper.
“Oh! Uh… strip?” He stumbled backward, pulling his shirt out of her grasp. “Can’t I just wear my clothes? It’s not like it will matter,” he asked, sounding anxious.
“Dear, it’s okay. I know you’re wearing a diaper,” Lisa said, reaching back out and pulling him close again, lifting his shirt back over his head. “I see it several times a day, every day, on boys bigger and stronger than you. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just because of what your body does after you’re gone.”
Corey’s face burned with embarrassment as Lisa unbuckled his belt next and pulled his corduroy pants down to his ankles, leaving him in just the thick white medical-grade diaper. “This way, the clothes won’t get anything on them,” she said, folding them up, “and we can give them to a needy family.”
“Anything, like what?” Corey asked, his voice trembling a little now.
Lisa ruffled his adorable headfur. “You won’t have to worry about it, sweetie. Like I said, you’ll be gone in an instant.” She may believe in straight talk with the condemned, but there was no need to explicitly mention blood or brain matter to the poor cub. “Are you ready to go to Heaven now?” she asked, taking a guess at his family’s religion based on their species.
“There’s no such thing,” Corey replied immediately, crossing his arms and wrinkling the base of his nose skeptically. Ah, well – you win some, you lose some.
“Well,” she said, smiling. “Are you ready for whatever comes next, then? Nobody really knows for sure, and you’re about to find out!”
Corey rubbed his paw over his left arm, stepping over to the padded execution table and frowning. “I’m ready to get the heck away from this place,” he said, betraying the first hint of teenage sullenness. Understandable, given that his own family had deemed him unworthy of life.
“All right, sweetie, I’ll help you with that, then.” She pulled a lever, adjusting the table down to his height, then put a paw on his padded bottom, giving him a boost. Lisa liked to remind her charges in their last moments that, even if nobody else was there to care for them, she cared.
The mouse boy squirmed as she moved his crinkly hips up onto the table, then guided his head down, muzzle through the padded ring in the headpiece. She turned on the display of natural landscapes under the table – it was there so that the condemned didn’t have to spend their last moments looking at a sterile tile floor, but she doubted if the nearly-blind mouse cared one way or another – and moved the boltgun forward so that the foam tip with its steel core rested squarely between the mouse boy’s eyes. She pulled a thick leather strap down over his head and buckled it securely, stopping him from moving his head from the lethal bolt, then strapped his arms to the sides of the table.
“Unnnh!” Corey stared forward, beginning to shake. No matter how cooperative they are, no matter how well-conditioned to the idea that they will likely end up living a short life, runts always get scared at the end, usually once they’re strapped down and can’t move. It’s difficult to predict how they will react.
“All right, sweetie, let’s get this over with.” Lisa reached toward a button on a control panel out of Corey’s sight. She stopped, though, her ear flicking as she heard a sound in addition to Corey’s panting breath. A rustling crinkle, rhythmic and familiar. She turned, looking down at Corey’s padded rump, and saw it moving up and down in an unmistakable humping motion. She smirked, letting him continue grinding on the table in his diaper for a few moments before interrupting. “Corey? What are you doing?”
“Ahh!” He jumped in his restraints. “I- I thought you were gonna do it!” he panted.
“Uhhuh, but then I saw you masturbating yourself on my table!” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. Truth be told, she didn’t have to call him out on it; she could have just pressed the button. But this cub was too cute not to tease a little, first.
Corey groaned, his blush visible all the way up through his ears, even though his face was hidden. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”
Lisa patted the boy’s diapered bottom under his tail. “There’s no need to be sorry. It’s more common than you might think. You’re at the end, nothing really matters anymore, so you might as well squeeze every last drop of pleasure out of this life, right?”
“R- right!” Corey sounded surprised to hear this nice doggy lady express his semi-insane, horny urge so well.
“Well go ahead, then. I’ll give you a countdown so you know when it’s coming.”
“Wait!” he gasped, frantically resuming his humping, diaper crinkling away. “Please let me finish!”
Lisa raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Finish? Are you even able to finish?”
“Yeah! I started squirting last year!” He panted, his ears somehow turning even redder. With all that blood in his head, Lisa figured he was gonna be a gusher.
“Well… I suppose I have my lunch break after I’m done with you, so we have a bit of time. All right, go ahead and finish. No procrastinating, though! As soon as you’re done, we’re doing this.”
Corey nodded as much as he could in the restraint and started humping the table a little slower, obviously enjoying the sensation. The dull steel tip of the boltgun pressed against his forehead as he leaned his weight into it, trying to get more leverage on the front of his diaper. Lisa smiled and rested a paw on his rump, feeling the vitality of its up-and-down thrusting, slipping one finger up and running it under his tailbase, making him shiver. Seeing the mouse boy humping his diapers so eagerly as his last action in this world filled her with a warm, tingly feeling.
Heck! She didn’t like to make a habit of this, but this boy was just so cute, and he’d been cooperative. There was no harm in making the day a little easier for both him and her. “Honey, are you gay or straight?”
“Suh- straight,” he panted, slowing down his grinding more as he was distracted from whatever juvenile erotic fantasies had been running through his doomed brain.
“Have you ever seen a pussy before?” she asked. “Or smelled one?” she added, remembering his vision impairment.
“Only my big sister’s,” Corey said, his voice low and hushed. “Never a grownup’s.” His thrusting stopped entirely as he stared downward in the restraint. Lisa figured he’d never admitted to sex play with his sister before. But like he’d agreed to earlier, nothing mattered now!
“Would you like to smell one?” Lisa asked, undoing the strap behind his head. “If it will help you finish faster.”
Corey lifted his head from the padded ring, blinking and swallowing with a click. “Yes,” he croaked.
Lisa moved to the front of the table, her groin level with the bound mouse’s nose, and lifted up her white pleated skirt, exposing her plain pink cotton panties. Every execution was video recorded, of course, but she knew she wouldn’t get in any trouble. This cub had lost his legal rights to personhood as soon as he got that black plastic earring. She wasn’t going to be prosecuted for killing him, so she certainly wouldn’t be prosecuted for making his last few minutes a little more fun.
She pulled the pink panties down, letting them fall to her ankles, exposing the pink, soft flesh of her pussy underneath her downy pubic fur, an inch from the mouse’s nose. “Miss Lisa!” he squeaked.
“Go ahead, take a sniff,” she said, knowing the boy probably couldn’t see much. His nose wiggled and she felt cool air moving over her privates as the mouse cub began humping the table in earnest now, making squeaky little grunts in the back of his throat.
“Oh!” she yipped as she felt his warm, soft tongue reach out and lick her pussy lips. “All right, then, if you want to taste...” She scooted forward, pressing her privates up against the front of his muzzle, breathing in sharply through her nose as he began to lick and kiss her doggy cunt, his tongue pressing up into her sex. He had no idea how to bring a woman to orgasm, of course, but his tongue felt nice inside her, and she’d probably rub one out over lunch after he was dead.
Corey, on the other hand, was obviously reaching his climax quickly. His thrusts were harder now, but spaced apart further as he rolled over the edge of orgasm, his tail curling over the white curve of his diapered rump. “Unnnh!” he groaned into Lisa’s pussy as he squirted his small load into the front of his diaper, the scent of weak musk now noticeable in the room.
“All right, sweetie. Time to go,” Lisa panted, rubbing Corey’s ears. She didn’t bother pulling her panties back up as she lifted his head and rested it back in the padded ring of the table. He offered no resistance, panting and limp, and she pulled the strap over the back of his head.
“N… now?” he squeaked, still dazed in the afterglow of the most intense sexual experience of his short life.
“Well, after just one thing. We don’t want to make a pissy mess.” She reached a paw under Corey’s belly and slid her fingers down the cum-slick front of his diaper, found his small penis, already going flaccid, and pointed it downward in the diaper. “There. All ready to go. And I’ll even let you do the countdown, since you’ve been such a good boy. Can you count backwards from ten for me?” She put her paw on the button.
“Yeah. Yeah,” Corey panted, his blush gone now. He sounded dazed and peaceful. “Ten. Nine. Eight. Sev--” CRACK “uuhhhhnnn...” The boy’s squeaky voice droned off into a rattling snore as his lungs reflexively filled themselves.
“There we go. Bye-bye, sweetie.” The mouse’s spasms told her that he wasn’t actually dead yet, but his consciousness was certainly gone, destroyed by the metal spike still embedded three inches inside his skull. His body rippled in random, mindless movements, completely different from his focused thrusting only a few seconds ago. His legs and tail jutted out straight, then relaxed, then straight, then relaxed again. A pale yellow blotch appeared between his legs on the medical diaper, then quickly spread up his butt as the dying mouse boy lost control of his bladder.
“All right, Corey, give it up,” Lisa said to the twitching cub, and patted his warm, heavy diaperseat. “I hate having to use the stir rod right before lunch.”
She leaned against the table and watched Corey twitch and spasm in his leather bindings. Often, the bolt was enough to kill the condemned outright, especially the smaller ones. This mouse cub wasn’t letting go easily, though. Lisa gave him two full minutes, then sighed. “All right, let’s finish it then.”
She opened a drawer and took out the stir rod, a piece of thin, springy metal, like a fencing foil but only a couple feet long. She unstrapped the restraints on Corey’s head and arms, then gently lifted his head off the boltgun spike, which slid out of his skull with a wet sucking sound. Several drops of blood splashed onto the waterproof nature display. She turned him over on his side, his legs and tail squirming and kicking.
The boy’s jaw hung open slack, drool running down his chin as the tongue that had just been inside Lisa’s pussy licked randomly at his lips and muzzle as if searching for something. His breaths came in fast, short staccato groups, as if he was trying to hyperventilate. His eyes pointed vaguely different directions, one pupil as wide as the iris and the other contracted to a pinpoint. Between them, in the center of Corey’s forehead, was a dark red hole into his skull, pink brain matter just barely visible.
“Wow, you’re really holding on, huh?” Lisa said as Corey’s paw awkwardly reached out and grabbed on to the stir rod. It was just reflex action, but it was still a little disconcerting. She gently took his paw off the rod, and it slid down between his legs, as if it had its own mind, pressing on the front of his diaper.
“All right. Enough of that.” She put the tip of the stir rod into the hole in the mouse cub’s forehead and quickly slid it in. The brain matter offered little resistance, and she pushed it until she felt it hit the back of his skull. That elicited another gasping snore as his body tensed up and took in its last breath, his back arching and his paws stopping their random movements. They balled up into fists and tucked against his chest, just under his chin. Lisa swirled the rod, stirring the dying cub’s brains inside his skull. He gave one convulsion, his eyelids fluttered, then he relaxed, letting out his last breath in a long sigh.
The diaper crackled as a bulge formed in the diaper seat under his tail, then swelled out into a large sag. Corey quietly emptied his bowels into his diaper, which had worn to his execution like a good boy. Then came a loud, wet raspberry sound as the mouse farted into his heavy mess.
“Phew! All done.” Lisa wrinkled up her nose and patted the mouse’s saggy diaper bottom, pulling the stir rod out of his head and wiping the clotted mouse brains onto a towel. She took a stethoscope off the nearby counter and plugged it into her ears, then held the diaphragm up to the cub’s fuzzy, warm chest. She heard him die.
Lubbubbum. Bum lub. Lublub bum… Bum... Bum.
She waited two full minutes without hearing another beat, then took the earpieces out and looked into his slack, drooling face. The pinpoint pupil had relaxed and dilated to match the other one.
“Good job, sweetie. I hope you’re having a great adventure somewhere.” She kissed his nose, then lifted the dead mouse off the table and put him into the disposal chute, dirty diaper and all. She listened as he slid down the chute, then went to check the schedule.
“Let’s see… lunch, then a lion hanging, then five puppy siblings at once. Goodness! Busy day.”
The cub was at peace now, though, and Lisa held nothing against him. She placed him gently into the disposal chute, wet clothes and all, and listened to the still-warm corpse slide down to the processing level. She wagged her shaggy yellow tail and grabbed a mop, sweeping the ferret’s final puddle down the drain in the middle of the floor.
Aside from that white tile floor, gently sloped toward the drain, the execution room looked like a cross between a pediatric doctor’s office and a grade school classroom. A mural of popular cartoon characters spread across one wall, opposite a counter, a wide stainless-steel basin sink, and cabinets full of bottles and shining implements of glass and steel.
The center of the room was occupied by what appeared to be some kind of massage table, padded and bent at a shallow angle, allowing the occupant to lie face-down, muzzle looking through a padded ring. Just underneath the ring was a foot-long gray cylinder attached to a stabilizing arm on the table headpiece. A quarter inch of dull steel rod poked out of the top of the boltgun cylinder, surrounded by soft rubber foam for the comfort of the condemned.
“Shit,” Lisa said, glancing at the clock on the wall. She snagged the noose from the hook in the ceiling and tossed it down the disposal chute. The next condemned cub would be there any minute, and there was no need to frighten him with a noose. According to his report, he’d been a model blacktag, giving his family very little trouble for choosing his brothers over him, and he’d earned a nice, clean bolting.
“All right, Corey, I think this is the room,” Lisa heard a high-pitched, harried voice say as the door swung open. A short, wide-hipped mouse woman with ears as large as her head led a small mouse boy behind her by the paw. According to his file, Corey was 12 years old, the runtiest of his litter. Three of his litter-mates had actually been liquidated before him, but the family couldn’t justify feeding him any more. They’d been waiting for good grades in the absence of physical ability, but those had never materialized.
“Hi there, Corey.” Lisa put her paws on her knees, bending down to his level and giving him a smile. “Your mom says you’ve been very well-behaved. Will you behave for me today, too?”
Corey stared up at her through thick glasses, one large ear perked up and the other weighed down by the heavy black plastic tag that marked him as disposable. “I-- uh, I--”
Lisa was used to this reaction. As a longhair golden retriever with blue eyes and a wide, friendly snout, she probably didn’t match most kids’ mental image of the executioner who was going to take their lives. The confusion often caused cubs to be speechless for the first minute or so of the last ten minutes of their lives. She cranked her smile up a notch. This mouse boy was cute!
“All right, Corey, looks like you’re in capable hands now,” the mouse’s mother said, leaning down and giving him a quick kiss between the ears. “It’s been lovely having you. Behave for the nice lady, now.” With that, she turned and swept out of the room, closing the door behind her and leaving the dazed runt behind.
“My name is Lisa, and I’ll be helping you die today, sweetie.” Euphemisms were rarely useful, Lisa thought. The kids either didn’t understand them, and asked awkward questions, or they did, and were more scared of the mild deception than the bare truth. The chances were good that the mouse cub knew what we was here for, anyway.
Corey took in a deep breath, obviously gathering his courage. “Will it hurt?” he asked in a voice that was high-pitched, but clearer than she expected from the obviously underdeveloped runt.
She shook her head. “No, you’ll be bolted as long as you cooperate with me, so it will be over in an instant. Come over here.” She took his paw and lead him toward the boltgun table. She could tell from the muffled crinkle as he walked that his mother had made sure the boy was properly attired. Or, equally possible, they may have just not bothered toilet training the runt. “I’ll go ahead and take these.” She lifted the thick glasses off his face.
“Hey!” he squeaked, rubbing his bleary eyes. “I can’t see very well.”
“You don’t need to see very well anymore, sweetie. We’ll give these to some other boy who was born with bad eyes like you, for him to use as long as he needs them. That’s how you got them in the first place, isn’t it?”
The mouse blushed and nodded, but still looked uncomfortable, blinking at his blurry surroundings.
“All right, time to strip.” She hooked her fingers under his striped shirt and began to lift it, exposing the waistband of his execution diaper.
“Oh! Uh… strip?” He stumbled backward, pulling his shirt out of her grasp. “Can’t I just wear my clothes? It’s not like it will matter,” he asked, sounding anxious.
“Dear, it’s okay. I know you’re wearing a diaper,” Lisa said, reaching back out and pulling him close again, lifting his shirt back over his head. “I see it several times a day, every day, on boys bigger and stronger than you. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just because of what your body does after you’re gone.”
Corey’s face burned with embarrassment as Lisa unbuckled his belt next and pulled his corduroy pants down to his ankles, leaving him in just the thick white medical-grade diaper. “This way, the clothes won’t get anything on them,” she said, folding them up, “and we can give them to a needy family.”
“Anything, like what?” Corey asked, his voice trembling a little now.
Lisa ruffled his adorable headfur. “You won’t have to worry about it, sweetie. Like I said, you’ll be gone in an instant.” She may believe in straight talk with the condemned, but there was no need to explicitly mention blood or brain matter to the poor cub. “Are you ready to go to Heaven now?” she asked, taking a guess at his family’s religion based on their species.
“There’s no such thing,” Corey replied immediately, crossing his arms and wrinkling the base of his nose skeptically. Ah, well – you win some, you lose some.
“Well,” she said, smiling. “Are you ready for whatever comes next, then? Nobody really knows for sure, and you’re about to find out!”
Corey rubbed his paw over his left arm, stepping over to the padded execution table and frowning. “I’m ready to get the heck away from this place,” he said, betraying the first hint of teenage sullenness. Understandable, given that his own family had deemed him unworthy of life.
“All right, sweetie, I’ll help you with that, then.” She pulled a lever, adjusting the table down to his height, then put a paw on his padded bottom, giving him a boost. Lisa liked to remind her charges in their last moments that, even if nobody else was there to care for them, she cared.
The mouse boy squirmed as she moved his crinkly hips up onto the table, then guided his head down, muzzle through the padded ring in the headpiece. She turned on the display of natural landscapes under the table – it was there so that the condemned didn’t have to spend their last moments looking at a sterile tile floor, but she doubted if the nearly-blind mouse cared one way or another – and moved the boltgun forward so that the foam tip with its steel core rested squarely between the mouse boy’s eyes. She pulled a thick leather strap down over his head and buckled it securely, stopping him from moving his head from the lethal bolt, then strapped his arms to the sides of the table.
“Unnnh!” Corey stared forward, beginning to shake. No matter how cooperative they are, no matter how well-conditioned to the idea that they will likely end up living a short life, runts always get scared at the end, usually once they’re strapped down and can’t move. It’s difficult to predict how they will react.
“All right, sweetie, let’s get this over with.” Lisa reached toward a button on a control panel out of Corey’s sight. She stopped, though, her ear flicking as she heard a sound in addition to Corey’s panting breath. A rustling crinkle, rhythmic and familiar. She turned, looking down at Corey’s padded rump, and saw it moving up and down in an unmistakable humping motion. She smirked, letting him continue grinding on the table in his diaper for a few moments before interrupting. “Corey? What are you doing?”
“Ahh!” He jumped in his restraints. “I- I thought you were gonna do it!” he panted.
“Uhhuh, but then I saw you masturbating yourself on my table!” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. Truth be told, she didn’t have to call him out on it; she could have just pressed the button. But this cub was too cute not to tease a little, first.
Corey groaned, his blush visible all the way up through his ears, even though his face was hidden. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”
Lisa patted the boy’s diapered bottom under his tail. “There’s no need to be sorry. It’s more common than you might think. You’re at the end, nothing really matters anymore, so you might as well squeeze every last drop of pleasure out of this life, right?”
“R- right!” Corey sounded surprised to hear this nice doggy lady express his semi-insane, horny urge so well.
“Well go ahead, then. I’ll give you a countdown so you know when it’s coming.”
“Wait!” he gasped, frantically resuming his humping, diaper crinkling away. “Please let me finish!”
Lisa raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Finish? Are you even able to finish?”
“Yeah! I started squirting last year!” He panted, his ears somehow turning even redder. With all that blood in his head, Lisa figured he was gonna be a gusher.
“Well… I suppose I have my lunch break after I’m done with you, so we have a bit of time. All right, go ahead and finish. No procrastinating, though! As soon as you’re done, we’re doing this.”
Corey nodded as much as he could in the restraint and started humping the table a little slower, obviously enjoying the sensation. The dull steel tip of the boltgun pressed against his forehead as he leaned his weight into it, trying to get more leverage on the front of his diaper. Lisa smiled and rested a paw on his rump, feeling the vitality of its up-and-down thrusting, slipping one finger up and running it under his tailbase, making him shiver. Seeing the mouse boy humping his diapers so eagerly as his last action in this world filled her with a warm, tingly feeling.
Heck! She didn’t like to make a habit of this, but this boy was just so cute, and he’d been cooperative. There was no harm in making the day a little easier for both him and her. “Honey, are you gay or straight?”
“Suh- straight,” he panted, slowing down his grinding more as he was distracted from whatever juvenile erotic fantasies had been running through his doomed brain.
“Have you ever seen a pussy before?” she asked. “Or smelled one?” she added, remembering his vision impairment.
“Only my big sister’s,” Corey said, his voice low and hushed. “Never a grownup’s.” His thrusting stopped entirely as he stared downward in the restraint. Lisa figured he’d never admitted to sex play with his sister before. But like he’d agreed to earlier, nothing mattered now!
“Would you like to smell one?” Lisa asked, undoing the strap behind his head. “If it will help you finish faster.”
Corey lifted his head from the padded ring, blinking and swallowing with a click. “Yes,” he croaked.
Lisa moved to the front of the table, her groin level with the bound mouse’s nose, and lifted up her white pleated skirt, exposing her plain pink cotton panties. Every execution was video recorded, of course, but she knew she wouldn’t get in any trouble. This cub had lost his legal rights to personhood as soon as he got that black plastic earring. She wasn’t going to be prosecuted for killing him, so she certainly wouldn’t be prosecuted for making his last few minutes a little more fun.
She pulled the pink panties down, letting them fall to her ankles, exposing the pink, soft flesh of her pussy underneath her downy pubic fur, an inch from the mouse’s nose. “Miss Lisa!” he squeaked.
“Go ahead, take a sniff,” she said, knowing the boy probably couldn’t see much. His nose wiggled and she felt cool air moving over her privates as the mouse cub began humping the table in earnest now, making squeaky little grunts in the back of his throat.
“Oh!” she yipped as she felt his warm, soft tongue reach out and lick her pussy lips. “All right, then, if you want to taste...” She scooted forward, pressing her privates up against the front of his muzzle, breathing in sharply through her nose as he began to lick and kiss her doggy cunt, his tongue pressing up into her sex. He had no idea how to bring a woman to orgasm, of course, but his tongue felt nice inside her, and she’d probably rub one out over lunch after he was dead.
Corey, on the other hand, was obviously reaching his climax quickly. His thrusts were harder now, but spaced apart further as he rolled over the edge of orgasm, his tail curling over the white curve of his diapered rump. “Unnnh!” he groaned into Lisa’s pussy as he squirted his small load into the front of his diaper, the scent of weak musk now noticeable in the room.
“All right, sweetie. Time to go,” Lisa panted, rubbing Corey’s ears. She didn’t bother pulling her panties back up as she lifted his head and rested it back in the padded ring of the table. He offered no resistance, panting and limp, and she pulled the strap over the back of his head.
“N… now?” he squeaked, still dazed in the afterglow of the most intense sexual experience of his short life.
“Well, after just one thing. We don’t want to make a pissy mess.” She reached a paw under Corey’s belly and slid her fingers down the cum-slick front of his diaper, found his small penis, already going flaccid, and pointed it downward in the diaper. “There. All ready to go. And I’ll even let you do the countdown, since you’ve been such a good boy. Can you count backwards from ten for me?” She put her paw on the button.
“Yeah. Yeah,” Corey panted, his blush gone now. He sounded dazed and peaceful. “Ten. Nine. Eight. Sev--” CRACK “uuhhhhnnn...” The boy’s squeaky voice droned off into a rattling snore as his lungs reflexively filled themselves.
“There we go. Bye-bye, sweetie.” The mouse’s spasms told her that he wasn’t actually dead yet, but his consciousness was certainly gone, destroyed by the metal spike still embedded three inches inside his skull. His body rippled in random, mindless movements, completely different from his focused thrusting only a few seconds ago. His legs and tail jutted out straight, then relaxed, then straight, then relaxed again. A pale yellow blotch appeared between his legs on the medical diaper, then quickly spread up his butt as the dying mouse boy lost control of his bladder.
“All right, Corey, give it up,” Lisa said to the twitching cub, and patted his warm, heavy diaperseat. “I hate having to use the stir rod right before lunch.”
She leaned against the table and watched Corey twitch and spasm in his leather bindings. Often, the bolt was enough to kill the condemned outright, especially the smaller ones. This mouse cub wasn’t letting go easily, though. Lisa gave him two full minutes, then sighed. “All right, let’s finish it then.”
She opened a drawer and took out the stir rod, a piece of thin, springy metal, like a fencing foil but only a couple feet long. She unstrapped the restraints on Corey’s head and arms, then gently lifted his head off the boltgun spike, which slid out of his skull with a wet sucking sound. Several drops of blood splashed onto the waterproof nature display. She turned him over on his side, his legs and tail squirming and kicking.
The boy’s jaw hung open slack, drool running down his chin as the tongue that had just been inside Lisa’s pussy licked randomly at his lips and muzzle as if searching for something. His breaths came in fast, short staccato groups, as if he was trying to hyperventilate. His eyes pointed vaguely different directions, one pupil as wide as the iris and the other contracted to a pinpoint. Between them, in the center of Corey’s forehead, was a dark red hole into his skull, pink brain matter just barely visible.
“Wow, you’re really holding on, huh?” Lisa said as Corey’s paw awkwardly reached out and grabbed on to the stir rod. It was just reflex action, but it was still a little disconcerting. She gently took his paw off the rod, and it slid down between his legs, as if it had its own mind, pressing on the front of his diaper.
“All right. Enough of that.” She put the tip of the stir rod into the hole in the mouse cub’s forehead and quickly slid it in. The brain matter offered little resistance, and she pushed it until she felt it hit the back of his skull. That elicited another gasping snore as his body tensed up and took in its last breath, his back arching and his paws stopping their random movements. They balled up into fists and tucked against his chest, just under his chin. Lisa swirled the rod, stirring the dying cub’s brains inside his skull. He gave one convulsion, his eyelids fluttered, then he relaxed, letting out his last breath in a long sigh.
The diaper crackled as a bulge formed in the diaper seat under his tail, then swelled out into a large sag. Corey quietly emptied his bowels into his diaper, which had worn to his execution like a good boy. Then came a loud, wet raspberry sound as the mouse farted into his heavy mess.
“Phew! All done.” Lisa wrinkled up her nose and patted the mouse’s saggy diaper bottom, pulling the stir rod out of his head and wiping the clotted mouse brains onto a towel. She took a stethoscope off the nearby counter and plugged it into her ears, then held the diaphragm up to the cub’s fuzzy, warm chest. She heard him die.
Lubbubbum. Bum lub. Lublub bum… Bum... Bum.
She waited two full minutes without hearing another beat, then took the earpieces out and looked into his slack, drooling face. The pinpoint pupil had relaxed and dilated to match the other one.
“Good job, sweetie. I hope you’re having a great adventure somewhere.” She kissed his nose, then lifted the dead mouse off the table and put him into the disposal chute, dirty diaper and all. She listened as he slid down the chute, then went to check the schedule.
“Let’s see… lunch, then a lion hanging, then five puppy siblings at once. Goodness! Busy day.”
I'm getting too old for this shit.
- Joined
- Jun 14, 2018
I kept reading, and it just got worse, so I just scrolled through until the end. Glad I did, whoever wrote that with such detail is probably a serial killer.
- Joined
- Jun 5, 2020
Why are they so obsessed with killing kids.
It also just brings up many questions about what a horrifying dystopian setting this takes place in that I don't want to think about.
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2019
Damn my morbid curiosity, that was horrible.
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2019
Solar plexus clown glider
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- May 10, 2020
Huh. I didn't know fictional media could still make me feel sick.
Does this freak actually have an extended universe like the high school academy snuff furry or did he just decide to DO this?
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2019
I only parsed through that thing but am 100 percent sure that author should be the number one suspect of any child kidnapping around the area the live.
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True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2017
That's...well, I suppose "interesting" is the right word, minus the positive connotations.
I had a friend who would regularly troll furries by posting that image. She and I both assumed it was just some anti-furry image, although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that the actual explanation is much worse, being that it's made by a furry with a gore fetish. It was also shaded and colored far better than what's in that artist's capability, so I don't know if that was done by a "fan" or they commissioned somebody who actually knew which way the ink came out. I don't know where the finished image is now, but ironically, my friend did consider using that cheese grater image too, but she didn't like it because that's more apparent in how the artist was clearly getting off when they drew it.
Funny thing is, a furry did counter that beheading shock image it by saying a furry drew it. My friend just thought they were bluffing, so she called him a liar and said she was the one who drew it to shut them down, and the other furry who was there believed her. That's what confidence in lying gets you. Anyway, I guess that furry was right all along, but it doesn't change the fact that she got a ton of mileage out of upsetting furries using that image. That said, now I'm nostalgic for ye olde internette days. I miss when you could walk in on two people yelling at each other or some guy getting trolled, and people were content to just sit and watch rather than step in and take sides. Those were simpler times.
- Joined
- Feb 8, 2020
- Joined
- Aug 27, 2020
Mind sharing a link to the archive? I'm interested.
- Joined
- Dec 12, 2018
- Joined
- Dec 12, 2018
Leonard Helplessness
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Nov 28, 2018
Chadwick Boseman, an actor best known for his role as the superhero known as Black Panther in that one movie franchise no one cares about anymore, died yesterday. Many people on social media were touched by old videos in which he was scrambling to make contact with terminally ill children who would not survive to see his movies -- while Boseman himself was, unbenownst to most, fighting a losing battle with cancer.
To honor Chadwick Boseman's memory, I have searched FurAffinity for artwork of Black Panther; I enclose some samples below. Please enjoy.
To honor Chadwick Boseman's memory, I have searched FurAffinity for artwork of Black Panther; I enclose some samples below. Please enjoy.