{"submission_id":"2077139","keywords":[{"keyword_id":"515405","keyword_name":"accidental necro","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"1"},{"keyword_id":"177797","keyword_name":"accidental rape","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"2"},{"keyword_id":"42023","keyword_name":"butchery","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"10"},{"keyword_id":"17729","keyword_name":"dismemberment","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"291"},{"keyword_id":"5184","keyword_name":"farm","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"936"},{"keyword_id":"33","keyword_name":"fox","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"157525"},{"keyword_id":"8503","keyword_name":"fruit bat","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"702"},{"keyword_id":"1108","keyword_name":"gore","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"5682"},{"keyword_id":"88177","keyword_name":"muzzle fuck","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"32"},{"keyword_id":"515307","keyword_name":"out of body experience","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"1"}],"hidden":"t","scraps":"t","favorite":"f","favorites_count":"0","create_datetime":"2020-02-05 16:42:00.625861+01","create_datetime_usertime":"05 Feb 2020 16:42 CET","last_file_update_datetime":"2020-01-31 15:16:01.135465+01","last_file_update_datetime_usertime":"31 Jan 2020 15:16 CET","username":"StShadowdirge","user_id":"484950","user_icon_file_name":"149404_StShadowdirge_srtifact-less-pl0x.png","user_icon_url_large":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/149/149404_StShadowdirge_srtifact-less-pl0x.png","user_icon_url_medium":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/149/149404_StShadowdirge_srtifact-less-pl0x.png","user_icon_url_small":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/149/149404_StShadowdirge_srtifact-less-pl0x.png","file_name":"3004666_StShadowdirge_placeholder.rtf","file_url_full":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/full/3004/3004666_StShadowdirge_placeholder.rtf","file_url_screen":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/3004/3004666_StShadowdirge_placeholder.rtf","file_url_preview":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/3004/3004666_StShadowdirge_placeholder.rtf","files":[{"file_id":"3004666","file_name":"3004666_StShadowdirge_placeholder.rtf","file_url_full":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/full/3004/3004666_StShadowdirge_placeholder.rtf","file_url_screen":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/3004/3004666_StShadowdirge_placeholder.rtf","file_url_preview":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/3004/3004666_StShadowdirge_placeholder.rtf","mimetype":"text/rtf","submission_id":"2077139","user_id":"484950","submission_file_order":"0","full_size_x":null,"full_size_y":null,"screen_size_x":null,"screen_size_y":null,"preview_size_x":null,"preview_size_y":null,"initial_file_md5":"4b3a1d95c7dc5d59c6c106da925ccce4","full_file_md5":"4b3a1d95c7dc5d59c6c106da925ccce4","large_file_md5":"","small_file_md5":"","thumbnail_md5":"","deleted":"f","create_datetime":"2020-01-31 15:16:01.135465+01","create_datetime_usertime":"31 Jan 2020 15:16 CET"}],"pools":[{"pool_id":"61334","name":"Black Aegis","description":"All of the things by all of the other pieces of me. This is not a happy place.","count":"23","submission_left_submission_id":"2077134","submission_left_file_name":"3004661_StShadowdirge_placeholder.rtf"}],"description":"Sheena has an out-of-body experience kind of. While Emily is busy straining out mystick lesbian knowledge and not having a conversation with Wallace.\n\nTried going harder on Jefferson's accent. \"She'll lack that\" isn't a typo. It's how southerners say \"like\". :/ Fuckin' hicks.\n\nI had intended to wedge in some gay shower sex, but I guess writing about Sheena's butchered corpse lasted too long. I could continue writing and make it happen, but then I'd reach the gay sex and then not really know where to go from there. Leaving one loose end allows it to fray, the yarn, therefore, continues.\n\n\n33/100\n33/500","description_bbcode_parsed":"Sheena has an out-of-body experience kind of. While Emily is busy straining out mystick lesbian knowledge and not having a conversation with Wallace.
Tried going harder on Jefferson's accent. "She'll lack that" isn't a typo. It's how southerners say "like". :/ Fuckin' hicks.
I had intended to wedge in some gay shower sex, but I guess writing about Sheena's butchered corpse lasted too long. I could continue writing and make it happen, but then I'd reach the gay sex and then not really know where to go from there. Leaving one loose end allows it to fray, the yarn, therefore, continues.
33/100
33/500","writing":" When I woke up, I saw my body being carried by Charles and Jefferson. I don't know when I fell asleep. I seem to remember some trauma. Something bad was happening and my brain shut down. I remembered that I was supposed to be angry but I couldn't remember why.\n There was an \"oh, shit\" moment when I noticed the hole in my abdoment. That explained the out-of-body experience, kind of. And I was naked. Charles was carrying my by the ankles, Jefferson was carrying me by the wrists. It looked painful but I wasn't there to feel it. Probably because I was dead. But where there's a will there's a way, right?\n I surprised that Charles could stand to be so close to my nasty doe pussy. He looked traumatized. I'd have imagined that Charles would want to be as far removed from vaginas as possible. He seemed to be gay, but aside from that there was the constant abuse he suffered from Emily. It'd be enough to make any rational lustbeast shy away from that sex's unique anatomy.\n They walked carrying my body for a while. They walked through casual nothingness. I didn't know how I knew that, because it was the same nothingness we were all in until they held me down, stripped off my clothes and killed me. Then they noticed they were in a room. Damn, that's why I was supposed to be angry.\n In my mind, I put a stone where Charles was about to step. He tripped and faltered. He fell and planted his muzzle into my nasty doe pussy. I had never been particularly loose with my love, or generous with the things I put inside myself, so that must have hurt. I was glad I was dead because it would have hurt me a lot, too, to be forced open so wide all of a sudden.\n Jefferson looked a little surprised at the moment, but began his dreadful, southern \"hyuk\"-ing laughter as Charles's scream was muffled by nasty doe pussy. He flailed as he suffocated in my rotting cunt. He finally broke free and ended up on his ass, trying to catch his breath. Then he vomited.\n I kind of felt bad for Charles. He didn't used to throw up so much or so easily. I mean, tripping, falling, and nearly suffocating in a dead girl's nasty doe pussy [i]is[/i] fairly traumatic. But I remember Emily telling him to \"huff this fartbomb\" as she passed a glass of milk to him and he blew chunks. Maybe he was trained to associate trauma with vomiting. It was probably Emily's fault. She always took things too far.\n \"Now, come on, now, Charles,\" Jefferson said, his accent as thick as ever, \"we almost there.\"\n Charles wiped his face. He stared at the gore-thing that was my body. He noticed my nasty doe pussy hadn't closed all the way. He dry heaved and was thankful.\n \"I mean, how can you know that? Everything looks the same we've been walking for who knows how long.\"\n I couldn't tell how long it'd been, either. It felt like they'd been doin this for all time. It must have been a lack of agency, though. I could see myself being moved but I couldn't really do anything about it. I remember I made Charles stumble and weighed the benefits of tryin to get back in my body. My body was clearly dead with guts hanging out. But it'd feel good to get in there and then sit up and scold Charles for forcing himself on me, then insist he clean me out the [i]right[/i] way. \n Wait, he had already forced himself on me. As I was dying he raped my intenstines. I swore that I'd have my revenge. Forcing him to commit necrophilia was as good of a starting point as any. I tried to enter my body, but I felt repelled. Repulsed? It was like trying to put two positive poles of magnets together. Through force of will I was able to get close, very close, but I couldn't get in. \n I tried to take out my frustrations on Charles's scrotum with a swift kick, but it was the same. I was being hindered. It was some kind of A.T. field or something. I picked up a pebble and threw it as hard as I could between his legs. I was rewarded with a shrieking yelp.\n \"Fuck, yeah. Damn. Let's go Jefferson.\" He picked up my ankles warily. He didn't want to be pointed toward my genitals. \"Fucking ant or something bit my balls! Shit!\"\n They carried my body. Charles looked like he was afraid that it might let out a raucus postmortem queef. I hoped it did. I hope it was raucus and reeked like death squared. I hoped he vomited some of his esophagus out, like mouth prolapse. \n I hoped he tripped and fell and put his eye out. I hoped he sat down to dinner one night and when he picked up his fork he notices a smell, then looks down at his plate and it's a nasty doe pussy. I hoped he gets terrified and runs away but everything is nasty doe pussy. Everything. Nasty doe pussy everywhere.\n They arrived at the farm with my body. No raucus queef happened. Charles was offended by the smell of the hogs, though. It seemed a little too easy. For all the time that was spent in the un-room before it was noticed to be a room, walking up on the farm seemed rather convenient.\n The hogs oinked a greeting at Jefferson. He didn't care. He didn't raise them to socialize with them. He was running a business. He did what was best for business. He was unattached but did care for their well-being.\n \"So, uh, do we just throw her in?\"\n \"Naw, gotta divvy her up. Hogs'll eat anything but if'n y'split it up over a couple feedin's it'll go faster.\"\n I didn't like that notion.\n \"We oughta taker to that shed.\"\n They did take me to the shed. It had some grain in it, but more notably it had sharp implements. Of them, I noticed a large cleaver. I couldn't stand watching what they were about to do to my body. Dull, wet thuds eminated from the shed. Occasionally a cracking sound and Charles saying something, or maybe he was retching again.\n Jefferson exited the shed. I didn't recognize him. He looked like an aborted monster. Like some mad scientist had crossed two creatures without breeding them. It was a walking abomination. Throgh my horror, I pieced it together. The fruitbat was carrying my head in one hand, two arms under one of his arms, and a length of my intestines around his neck, like a scarf. Even knowing that, it took a while to really know what was going on.\n The reality that my body was going to be incrementally fed to hogs was closing in like a noose. \n Jefferson called the hogs over to the fence with some nightmarish squealing. If I weren't dead, I would likely be having nightmares about it all.\n He threw my arms in the pen. The hogs made way for them before excitedly rushing toward their dinner. He threw my intestines in. They ate the hell out of them. Jefferson sighed, then threw my head unceremoniously into the pen. I couldn't watch them eat my face. It felt like I was admitting defeat, but it felt like watching that happen would be making it permanent that I had died. That I had been written out.\n In turning away, I noticed something that I had not before. Charles hadn't been present. \n Jefferson was wistfully watching the hogs chew my remains. I looked in the shed. Charles was in a corner, sobbing. He looked at my body. I looked at it. It was in pieces. \n The chest was split in half, each half had a lung. One half was given the liver, the other had the heart. A segment of my spine from between the ribcage and pelvis was kept with my stomach, kidneys, intestines and loose, dead, furred skin. The soles of my feet were on the floor. My calves rested against the table, like knee-high boots. My thighs were on meat hooks. My nasty doe pussy was pointed right at Charles.\n He looked at it, presumably because my head had already been taken out to the hogs, and said, \"You were right. I regret it.\"\n I had told him he would. I didn't know that this was going to happen. I didn't know Jefferson was so cold. I had always thought of him as a loveable, if irritating, buffoon. I didn't expect that he'd casually butcher a friend that he had argued to protect earlier.\n Jefferson came back in the shed. It felt like he looked at me. It felt like he looked at [i]me[/i], not my body. He smirked and seemed to wink. It almost felt comforting if it weren't so terrifying, if I hadn't just watch him throw my head to the hogs, if he weren't the one to mutilate my body beyond rational comprehension. He turned to face Charles.\n \"Done caterwaulin'?\" \n \"N-no,\" Charles sniffled.\n \"Not feeding the hogs wuddn't gonna bring her back to life! An' look, we has a surprise for Emily, a vajainer that ain't attached to a flat chest. She'll lack that.\"\n Charles was distraught. Inconsolible. Jefferson tried. He put a bloody hand on the fox's shoulder. \n \"Y'know, Sheena can come back in a shiiiiiny new body.\" He looked at me again. He knew. He had to know. I noticed that there were buzzing insects right where I was and felt relieved. But only the panic that happens when a person gets discovered, typically doing something they know they shouldn't be, was relieved. The unsure feeling, a creeping despair, was still there. It felt like rotting away, like I was on the verge of going too far and knowing something that I couldn't come back from. \n I gathered my thoughts and tried to rid myself of that feeling. I put a name on it: paranoia. I had already experienced knowing something I couldn't come back from. Dying. And having my body in barely recognizeable flesh chunks, some destroyed by the digestive process of hogs. I had been traumatized and now I foresaw impending trauma at every turn. Simple paranoia. \n \"Come on inta th' house. We can take a shower an' gecha all cleant up.\"","writing_bbcode_parsed":" When I woke up, I saw my body being carried by Charles and Jefferson. I don't know when I fell asleep. I seem to remember some trauma. Something bad was happening and my brain shut down. I remembered that I was supposed to be angry but I couldn't remember why.
There was an "oh, shit" moment when I noticed the hole in my abdoment. That explained the out-of-body experience, kind of. And I was naked. Charles was carrying my by the ankles, Jefferson was carrying me by the wrists. It looked painful but I wasn't there to feel it. Probably because I was dead. But where there's a will there's a way, right?
I surprised that Charles could stand to be so close to my nasty doe pussy. He looked traumatized. I'd have imagined that Charles would want to be as far removed from vaginas as possible. He seemed to be gay, but aside from that there was the constant abuse he suffered from Emily. It'd be enough to make any rational lustbeast shy away from that sex's unique anatomy.
They walked carrying my body for a while. They walked through casual nothingness. I didn't know how I knew that, because it was the same nothingness we were all in until they held me down, stripped off my clothes and killed me. Then they noticed they were in a room. Damn, that's why I was supposed to be angry.
In my mind, I put a stone where Charles was about to step. He tripped and faltered. He fell and planted his muzzle into my nasty doe pussy. I had never been particularly loose with my love, or generous with the things I put inside myself, so that must have hurt. I was glad I was dead because it would have hurt me a lot, too, to be forced open so wide all of a sudden.
Jefferson looked a little surprised at the moment, but began his dreadful, southern "hyuk"-ing laughter as Charles's scream was muffled by nasty doe pussy. He flailed as he suffocated in my rotting cunt. He finally broke free and ended up on his ass, trying to catch his breath. Then he vomited.
I kind of felt bad for Charles. He didn't used to throw up so much or so easily. I mean, tripping, falling, and nearly suffocating in a dead girl's nasty doe pussy is fairly traumatic. But I remember Emily telling him to "huff this fartbomb" as she passed a glass of milk to him and he blew chunks. Maybe he was trained to associate trauma with vomiting. It was probably Emily's fault. She always took things too far.
"Now, come on, now, Charles," Jefferson said, his accent as thick as ever, "we almost there."
Charles wiped his face. He stared at the gore-thing that was my body. He noticed my nasty doe pussy hadn't closed all the way. He dry heaved and was thankful.
"I mean, how can you know that? Everything looks the same we've been walking for who knows how long."
I couldn't tell how long it'd been, either. It felt like they'd been doin this for all time. It must have been a lack of agency, though. I could see myself being moved but I couldn't really do anything about it. I remember I made Charles stumble and weighed the benefits of tryin to get back in my body. My body was clearly dead with guts hanging out. But it'd feel good to get in there and then sit up and scold Charles for forcing himself on me, then insist he clean me out the right way.
Wait, he had already forced himself on me. As I was dying he raped my intenstines. I swore that I'd have my revenge. Forcing him to commit necrophilia was as good of a starting point as any. I tried to enter my body, but I felt repelled. Repulsed? It was like trying to put two positive poles of magnets together. Through force of will I was able to get close, very close, but I couldn't get in.
I tried to take out my frustrations on Charles's scrotum with a swift kick, but it was the same. I was being hindered. It was some kind of A.T. field or something. I picked up a pebble and threw it as hard as I could between his legs. I was rewarded with a shrieking yelp.
"Fuck, yeah. Damn. Let's go Jefferson." He picked up my ankles warily. He didn't want to be pointed toward my genitals. "Fucking ant or something bit my balls! Shit!"
They carried my body. Charles looked like he was afraid that it might let out a raucus postmortem queef. I hoped it did. I hope it was raucus and reeked like death squared. I hoped he vomited some of his esophagus out, like mouth prolapse.
I hoped he tripped and fell and put his eye out. I hoped he sat down to dinner one night and when he picked up his fork he notices a smell, then looks down at his plate and it's a nasty doe pussy. I hoped he gets terrified and runs away but everything is nasty doe pussy. Everything. Nasty doe pussy everywhere.
They arrived at the farm with my body. No raucus queef happened. Charles was offended by the smell of the hogs, though. It seemed a little too easy. For all the time that was spent in the un-room before it was noticed to be a room, walking up on the farm seemed rather convenient.
The hogs oinked a greeting at Jefferson. He didn't care. He didn't raise them to socialize with them. He was running a business. He did what was best for business. He was unattached but did care for their well-being.
"So, uh, do we just throw her in?"
"Naw, gotta divvy her up. Hogs'll eat anything but if'n y'split it up over a couple feedin's it'll go faster."
I didn't like that notion.
"We oughta taker to that shed."
They did take me to the shed. It had some grain in it, but more notably it had sharp implements. Of them, I noticed a large cleaver. I couldn't stand watching what they were about to do to my body. Dull, wet thuds eminated from the shed. Occasionally a cracking sound and Charles saying something, or maybe he was retching again.
Jefferson exited the shed. I didn't recognize him. He looked like an aborted monster. Like some mad scientist had crossed two creatures without breeding them. It was a walking abomination. Throgh my horror, I pieced it together. The fruitbat was carrying my head in one hand, two arms under one of his arms, and a length of my intestines around his neck, like a scarf. Even knowing that, it took a while to really know what was going on.
The reality that my body was going to be incrementally fed to hogs was closing in like a noose.
Jefferson called the hogs over to the fence with some nightmarish squealing. If I weren't dead, I would likely be having nightmares about it all.
He threw my arms in the pen. The hogs made way for them before excitedly rushing toward their dinner. He threw my intestines in. They ate the hell out of them. Jefferson sighed, then threw my head unceremoniously into the pen. I couldn't watch them eat my face. It felt like I was admitting defeat, but it felt like watching that happen would be making it permanent that I had died. That I had been written out.
In turning away, I noticed something that I had not before. Charles hadn't been present.
Jefferson was wistfully watching the hogs chew my remains. I looked in the shed. Charles was in a corner, sobbing. He looked at my body. I looked at it. It was in pieces.
The chest was split in half, each half had a lung. One half was given the liver, the other had the heart. A segment of my spine from between the ribcage and pelvis was kept with my stomach, kidneys, intestines and loose, dead, furred skin. The soles of my feet were on the floor. My calves rested against the table, like knee-high boots. My thighs were on meat hooks. My nasty doe pussy was pointed right at Charles.
He looked at it, presumably because my head had already been taken out to the hogs, and said, "You were right. I regret it."
I had told him he would. I didn't know that this was going to happen. I didn't know Jefferson was so cold. I had always thought of him as a loveable, if irritating, buffoon. I didn't expect that he'd casually butcher a friend that he had argued to protect earlier.
Jefferson came back in the shed. It felt like he looked at me. It felt like he looked at me, not my body. He smirked and seemed to wink. It almost felt comforting if it weren't so terrifying, if I hadn't just watch him throw my head to the hogs, if he weren't the one to mutilate my body beyond rational comprehension. He turned to face Charles.
"Done caterwaulin'?"
"N-no," Charles sniffled.
"Not feeding the hogs wuddn't gonna bring her back to life! An' look, we has a surprise for Emily, a vajainer that ain't attached to a flat chest. She'll lack that."
Charles was distraught. Inconsolible. Jefferson tried. He put a bloody hand on the fox's shoulder.
"Y'know, Sheena can come back in a shiiiiiny new body." He looked at me again. He knew. He had to know. I noticed that there were buzzing insects right where I was and felt relieved. But only the panic that happens when a person gets discovered, typically doing something they know they shouldn't be, was relieved. The unsure feeling, a creeping despair, was still there. It felt like rotting away, like I was on the verge of going too far and knowing something that I couldn't come back from.
I gathered my thoughts and tried to rid myself of that feeling. I put a name on it: paranoia. I had already experienced knowing something I couldn't come back from. Dying. And having my body in barely recognizeable flesh chunks, some destroyed by the digestive process of hogs. I had been traumatized and now I foresaw impending trauma at every turn. Simple paranoia.
"Come on inta th' house. We can take a shower an' gecha all cleant up."","pools_count":1,"title":"Idle Hands, pt. 6.5 : Meanwhile, at the Farm","deleted":"f","public":"t","mimetype":"text/rtf","pagecount":"1","rating_id":"2","rating_name":"Adult","ratings":[{"content_tag_id":"4","name":"Sexual Themes","description":"Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal","rating_id":"2"},{"content_tag_id":"5","name":"Strong Violence","description":"Strong violence, blood, serious injury or death","rating_id":"2"}],"submission_type_id":"12","type_name":"Writing - Document","guest_block":"t","friends_only":"f","comments_count":"0","views":"20","sales_description":null,"forsale":"f","digitalsales":"f","printsales":"f","digital_price":""}