Putrid Stories

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Putrid Stories



He pressed his back against the wall, next to the closed door. He tried to control his breathing; he felt his heart pounding in his throat, breathing in ragged gasps. His hands clenched white knuckled on the coil of rope...

In one of the apartments upstairs he could hear her footsteps. Moving from one room to another. Cheap apartments, four in a group, quadruplex, they call them. Floors so flimsy every step could be counted by anyone in the building. And window blinds so cheap and flimsy you could see through them, or around them, with binoculars.

From the building across the street. His building. He'd been watching. Planning. Studying her in her bedroom. Seeing her as she dressed. Undressed. Slept. The image of her nude body burned its way into his brain. The decision to kill had come slow and hard. But once made, the rest was easy.

The method - no question there. Just cover your tracks afterwards. But don't be a fanatic about it.

So he stood in the basement laundry room of a cheap quadruplex, panting and sweating in excitement and the summer heat. Listening as somewhere upstairs, in her apartment, she moved from room to room.

They were alone in the building. He had planned carefully. Made his move when the time was right. Her noose was already tied. The rope ran over a heavy pipe at the ceiling, in the middle of the room. He held both ends in his hands, behind the door. She wouldn't see it as she entered the room. And now he waited.

He heard the sound of her apartment door open, her footsteps on the creaky stairs to the basement. The door next to him opened. He stood very still behind it.

Through the crack at the hinge side he caught a glimpse of her; pretty redish-blonde hair, carrying a laundry basket. His heart slammed against his chest! She was wearing cut off jeans and a bikini top, and halter style, tied at the back and the neck.

She walked straight across the room to a washing machine. He moved silently behind her. Filled with the thrill and terror of it all. Almost not believing he was really doing it.

She set the basket down on top of the machine. He dropped the noose over her head from behind. Moving fast, he pulled the other end of the rope tight, and moved back across the room, past the pipe the rope was over, pulling her with him.

She gasped as the rope dropped around her neck, and then it was too tight to breathe, she never did scream. He held the rope with both hands and lunged across the room. She was dragged back from the washer, both hands at her throat, and jerked clear of the floor.

He tied his end to another pipe along the wall. And stood and back to watch her. She hung in the center of the room. Eyes wide. Fingers at her throat trying to get beneath the rope. The knot was straight behind her head. Her long legs and bare feet swung forward and backward, like a mermaid swimming. She made a quiet gargle noise.

He moved up to her and with shaking fingers untied her bikini top, then reached around in front between her elbows and grabbed the fabric and pulled it away. He briefly felt the soft warm flesh of her breasts.

She was kicking her legs now. One leg kicked backward while the other leg kicked forward. Her bare feet not quite reaching the floor. She moved her hands away from her throat and gripped the rope above the hangman's noose. Her breasts swayed and bounced, nipples huge and hard. She tried to lift herself with her hands, her chests heaving with the effort.

He stood there, mesmerized and watched her. Watched her moving breasts, her flailing legs, her wide eyes, and her gasping silent mouth. He tried to control his breathing, his chest was heaving as hard as hers.

He sunk to his knees and watched while she held on to the rope and stopped flailing her legs. Hanged still with her knees bent up a little in front of her. Her face had a hint of blue under her tan. She pressed her knees together and lifted her legs a little, thrust them slowly down. Again and again, her body trembled and shook. Her nipples jigged on the ends of her swaying breasts.

Then her hands started to slide slowly down the rope past the coils of the noose, down to her shoulders, and then her arms were limp at her sides. Her hands caught briefly on her breasts, making her nipples bounce as her arms slipped free.

Her legs stopped moving, dangling straight down, her bare feet twitching. The rope stretched her slender neck impossibly long, making her head look down between her breasts. Her eyes were almost closed.

Slowly her hands clenched into fists at her side. Her toes curled into tight little balls. Her body was racked with a spasm that made her legs flail out once move, and her breasts bounce heavily. She mermaid kicked once more, and then went perfectly limp, and hung perfectly straight and still. The rope over the pipe creaked softly.

Somewhere, in the distance, a dog barked.

With trembling fingers he reached up and undid the knot holding the rope. Her body slumped down heavily over his shoulder with an incredible weight, a dead weight. The slender woman was much heavier than he had expected.

He gently laid her on the floor and looked down at her motionless body. A shiver went through him, he wasn't done with her yet. Now he would do anything he wanted to her and she couldn't stop him. She couldn't humiliate him like those girls had at the mall the other day.

One of those girls had looked a lot like this one, so beautiful that it had taken his breath away. Her jabs at him had only served to make him angry, he momentarily wished that this woman had been the smart mouthed one from the other day.

But as he reached down to unsnap her cutoffs, his mind flicked back to the present. As he pealed the material away, inch-by-inch her wonderful cunt came into view. What a sight, it made his heart skip several beats, his breath came in gasps as he pulled her shorts down her perfect legs.

Then she was laying there totally nude, her body stretched out in front of him, waiting for whatever de decided to do next.

That decision didn't take long. He unzipped his pants and let the baggy material pool at his feet. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and his dick was fully hard. It had been stiff as a steel pipe since she had opened the door.

He looked down at himself and saw that the head of his dick was all shiny and slick with his pre-cum. It was too much for him, he knelt down and with a knee, shoved the young woman's legs apart and he sank down on top of her unresisting body.

He gasped as the sensation of his dick sinking into her still warm cunt. She'd been aroused, or he was so slick that he just slipped right into her without any trouble.

Instantly he was gasping and humping, the sensations racking his body as he pumped his dick in and out of her tight hole, it was like everything he'd ever imagined it would be. He hugged her close as he thrust and thrust, grunting with increasing lust.

Then unable to help himself his body stiffened and he came in her. The first few gushes made his mind numb and he could feel it in his toes. Then as his orgasm washed over him and he continued to thrust into his dead lover, he realized that he was still hard and that he was going to stay hard.

When his first orgasmic delight was over he pulled up onto his elbows and looked into her face. He whispered his thanks to her. He told her how fantastic she was and that he was sorry that he'd had to kill her to get off like this. But it was necessary, it had to be.

After a few moment and without really even pulling out he felt the urge to fuck her again and so he started thrusting again. This time he went slower and deeper, enjoying the feel of her moist cunt wrapped around his dick. After all he wanted to get everything out of this experience that he could.

While he was fucking his victim the third time suddenly there was noise and just as he was about to cum once again hands grabbed his shoulders and loud voices screamed in his ears.

He was roughly pulled from the silent woman still lying on the floor. His dick felt suddenly cold and vulnerable as the cool air hit it, making it shrivel into a little wrinkled thing. People were everywhere and he was naked and put his hands in front of his crotch. Then he couldn't even do that.

He was grabbed and his wrists were pulled behind his back and handcuffed. His pants were still off and his dick was still hanging out in the open. He could still feel the juices drying on it and his heart pounded in his chest at the memory of what he'd just done.

If he ever got the chance to do it again he would, she had been everything he'd expected her to be. The experience must be repeated, some day it would, he'd make it happen, he had too...



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GIRL IN THE BASEMENT (MF, asphyx, sn, nc, hanging, nec)




Written by The Happy Hangman and AB-2003 (no address)




Content Note: Rape, pedophilia, incest.

This is essentially Ender's Game fanfiction.]

A herd of launchies shuffled through the doors of their new living quarters, and though Petra was among them, she did not shuffle with them. Instead she strode, her steps falling confidently on the smooth concrete, and immediately sought out a top bunk at the back of the room. As the last of the launchies trickled in, the room spun into a blur of aggression and shouting, and Petra matched the fury and passion of the others until she ended up on the lower bunk in the back left corner. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it would do. At least, she considered, Petra would have the corner mostly to herself. For a moment, Petra’s chest continued to throb with confidence, and she felt the dangerous pride she wore over her features sink fragile, probing roots into the surface of her body. She closed her eyes, smiled, rested her head back on her pillow and let her arms drape languidly over the top of her skull.

Then she heard again the angry shouts of the others, felt the fluorescent light glare through her eyelids, and in the overwhelming harshness, anxiety seized her. She felt it in the hollow within her chest, felt it grasp at her throat and tighten until her breath came in short, desperate gasps. She lost track of time, of everything, and curled tightly in on herself, burrowing into the skimpy army-issue blankets and trying to focus on the pain coursing through her scalp as her small, shaking fingers tugged at tiny black coils.

Slowly, it ebbed. Petra felt air enter her lungs again, and shuddered into a dreamless sleep.

She was woken what must have been just a moment later, though now the room was dark. Anguished wails pierced the air, and tears caught the light through the open doors of the bunk room and glittered it back at a figure who stood walking among the rows of now-crying children like a god. Petra watched with wide eyes, her skin still tight from tears, as the figure moved from child to child and, with a touch, brought forth a flow of such terrible emotion that Petra found panic clutching at her chest again. She pushed back against the mattress and into the wall, and waited for the man to come to her. It took just a minute for thick fingers to reach down into Petra’s bunk. They groped for a moment in the darkness, then found her, brushed her bushy hair. Petra went still, tense, like a frightened animal. She pressed herself into the wall with more force, shivered, and closed her eyes. A sob escaped her throat, and then she found herself in a storm of memory and emotion.

It was… blurry. Dark. It moved too fast to understand, but Petra felt it. She knew, she remembered. Petra recognized the hot breath on her neck and the pain on her skin, in her heart, inside her where she felt violated and infinitely repulsive, like she would never be clean again. She recognized the words that fell on her like bricks, though they came in such soothing tones, such praising rumbles… she felt the confusion of the moment and heard those words come again to catch her in-between wishes.

“You’re such a good girl… such a pretty girl… don’t you make a sound, that’s good… daddy’s little girl, you’re so good for me…”

She caught her breath in her throat and held it there until her face felt hot and her head felt light, until the pain brought her back. She clutched at the pillow now soaked from her crying and whispered for her mommy, her daddy, whispered to make them come back and go away at the same time, whispered that she didn’t want to be a little girl anymore, that she wouldn’t be anybody’s little girl, that she would be daddy’s little girl if only he would come and get her away from here, come and be her dad again, and soothe her with his heartbeat. She sobbed, choked, sobbed again, and rocked herself into silence and pain and desperate wishes.

Finally, she was still, her heart cold and heavy with a new, rebellious resolve.

She was away from that horrible memory, that horrible place, and now she would be someone new. She would be nobody’s little girl anymore. She would dare the others to touch her, and she would destroy anyone who did. She would be no little girl, and she would show no fear.
Like ( 2 ) 3 Great Nicely done Inspired Like ( 2 )
Vrs1 :
Pedophilia,
Damned source of erotica.
Nightmare for the children of god.
Tainted dreams haunt them in mass.

I will watch over you from above.


Chrs: 
I will lure you,
I will please you,
I will make you my friend.
I will hurt you.
I will rip you.
I will molest your corpse.
I will cut you.
I will burn you.
I will make you my slave.


Vrs 2: 
Necrophilic,
My pleasures twisted and sick.
Nausea for all displeased.
Inhumanity rules my brain.

I will record the day you die.


Chrs: 
I will tie you.
I will break you.
I will make you fade away.
I will hang you.
I will carve you.
I will make you bleed away.
I will dig you.
I will mark you.
I will make you disappear.


Vrs 3: 
Recreation,
Hell bent on blood fixation.
I’m a wolf, hungry for more.
Bring me the lambs to harvest for my will.

I will bury your body and hunt for more.

Chrs: 
I will lure you,
I will please you,
I will make you my friend.
I will hurt you.
I will rip you.
I will molest your corpse.
I will cut you.
I will burn you.
I will make you my slave.
Just a simple song I wrote. © 5 years ago , Mitch Wilson  pedophilia • rape • murder • metal-music • song-lyrics
Like ( 2 ) 2 Lovely Inspired me! Clever work Like ( 2 )
Did you know then that you were changing my whole life with your actions? Were you unaware of exactly how much you would be ruining, or were you just so consumed by your lust and perversion that you were willing to rip me apart and shred any hope of a happy future? How could you have taken in a young child, gained her trust, made her like one of your own - and then steal her innocence before she even knew what it was you were taking from her?

These are the questions that have plagued me ever since I let my walls down enough to remember. I wish I would have never remembered...but at the same time, I know that this would have done little, if any, good. Even before I had the pleasure of dark memories, the consequences of your actions were already there. I acted and felt according to what you had done to me, without even allowing myself to realize what it was. And when the memories did finally come back - starting as a trickle and then becoming a full flood of flashbacks, nightmares and panic attacks that still haunt me on occasion - it was a missing puzzle piece, a way to finally explain why I am the way that I am.

You took more than my innocence, you must realize that. You took away my trust, my self-esteem. I considered you a father to me, someone to replace the father who had died six years before your abuse began. You took me to daddy daughter dances, taught me to roller skate and opened up your house to me to become my home away from home. Your daughter was like my sister, and I even had fantasies of marrying your sons to one day be a "true" member of your family. Now I can't look at a single member of your family without shuddering. Your eldest looks just like you...and because of that, I tremble with fear every time I see him.

I'm not the only one who feels the consequences of your actions. A family who tried so hard to encourage and support me were forced to watch me suffer. I had to be rushed to the hospital at least half a dozen times after suicide attempts. My parents bandaged my arms and washed my bloody clothing after I would cut myself because I felt so dirty and used from what you did. My brother tended to my wrist after I cut too deep. My sisters watched as I had to hide the cuts, both the fresh and the scars alike, from my littlest sister with long sleeves and gloves that went up past the elbow.

The man that I call mine is affected by your actions as well. In our most intimate moments, I think of you and cringe, turning away from him as if he were you. At times, his touch frightens me, no matter how gentle it is, because I think of you and how you would touch me. He is understanding, and has only ever treated me with affection and encouragement. But I see the pain in his eyes when I push him away as the flashback comes, and he is unable to even comfort me because a single touch or word from him brings forth a panic attack from me. He is the one who holds me and wipes my tears as I cling to him in bed, feeling the guilt of my childhood as if it were happening all over again. I am not emotionally healthy, because of you, and so our relationship is not healthy, because of you. This man has asked me to marry him, and will spend his entire life attempting to undo the damage you have done to me.

I was a child! I was nine years old when you first began to derive pleasure from the lewd actions you forced upon me. You fed me lies, scaring me into obedience with the claims that God would punish me if I did not obey. You gave me a warped view of love as you repeated over and over again, "This is love," as you would take my small hand and force it to stroke you. You told me that God would destroy my family and send them all to hell if I were to tell them, or anyone else. How could you bear to live with yourself afterwords?!

My one condolence is that you didn't live long enough to hurt me any longer than the two years in which you did. Your life was taken, and I was never hurt by you again...

Except that I was. I was hurt by you every day, every morning, every night of my life. Through nightmares, you continued to hurt me. I felt your hands on me instead of those of my future husband when we were intimate, and it hurt me. Every time I look in the mirror, I see a used, broken child, dirty from all that you did. I am still unable to be free from you, and so I live my life in fear and depression.

You destroyed me.
I wasn't going to write this, or even come back to this site...but I had to let this out and immediately remembered SW. This is all pure emotions, pretty much an overflow of sensations, feelings and problems that have been plaguing me for some time now. I may not be as attentive to spelling, grammar or those types of things as I usually am. I will not be editing this later to fix any errors I make due to my emotions, since I prefer
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