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Other / I found two cannibal songs!
« Last post by Meateater90 on April 09, 2020, 06:49:20 PM »


Below are photos I found of the band (not bad looking for young punk cannibals  ;)).
Photoshop / King's Celebration
« Last post by ozarkdude on April 07, 2020, 03:11:30 PM »
This African King is celebrating his birthday again.
His tribe hunted a white longpig and brought it to him as a birthday gift. The King accepted this delicious gift.
Apparently white meat is considered a delicacy in some african nations. The whole tribe was invited to this great feast.
Uhmm this longpig looks roasted to me, looks like a roasted chicken..., I guess is ready to eat !


General Discussion / Re: Say what you like to be
« Last post by piggymark on April 06, 2020, 05:41:58 AM »
Id be a nice plump freckled blonde pig
Photoshop / Grandpas Birthday
« Last post by ozarkdude on April 04, 2020, 08:16:04 PM »
Grandpa ogre is celebrating his birthday today and he wanted to eat a succulent roasted young guy for dinner...!
The ogres went to the forest today and hunted a fresh young guy for grandpa to enjoy.
uhmmm looks delicious !

Photoshop / Lunch time in Zambia
« Last post by ozarkdude on April 03, 2020, 07:46:39 AM »
The cannibals in Zambia are having a delicious longpig for lunch !!
Photoshop / Preparing Dinner
« Last post by ozarkdude on April 01, 2020, 01:43:27 AM »
The ogres are preparing a succulent and delicious dinner tonight !!
Apparently they hunted another young guy deep in the forest today.
uhmmm bon appetit !!
Photoshop / Sunt dus la abator pentru taere
« Last post by Ionutzaaa on March 31, 2020, 10:50:57 PM »
Sunt dus la abator
Photoshop / Fresh Meat Lover
« Last post by ozarkdude on March 29, 2020, 05:11:58 PM »
 A horrendous creature is at the forest hunting young guys. Apparently this alien creature has become addicted to fresh meat from young guys. Hundred of young guys are lost or missing. Investigators can not find their bodies.

Photoshop / Hunted and Cooked...!!
« Last post by ozarkdude on March 24, 2020, 03:06:55 PM »
The pygmy ogres just hunted another guy at the woods !!
Apparently they love to eat young guys, they are their only source of proteins and they find their meat juicy and tender.
Fiction / Re: Hans and Greta (a femcan fairytale)
« Last post by ToddSalt on March 22, 2020, 01:39:32 PM »
(continued from previous post)

Greta watched her brother, attractively arranged on a gigantic serving platter of pure silver with his vegetables, leave a trail of steam through the air as he levitated towards the dining table.

The gnawing hunger she felt for his glistening body was like nothing she’d ever experienced. She even felt a kind of pride in her brother, a happiness for him at this moment: this was his American debut! Hans wasn’t modeling the latest in high fashion, but on that silver platter his body made a striking model for gourmet cannibal cooking.

Monika read her daughter’s thoughts and smiled as she sat down beside her in the dining room. Wendy laid the Hans-platter in front of them and the young man, still very much alive, stared up at his mother and sister from the table. The apple in his mouth was fully baked, but not nearly as wrinkled and roasted as his face had become.

“What a lovely tan you’ve gotten, brother!” laughed Greta.

“And he’s only been in LA for one day!” their mother kidded.

Hans heard the jangle of cutlery, as his grandmother took out the serving utensils. He expected her to begin carving him up from the back, or his sides. But the first thing he felt was her two-pronged fork entering the back of his neck, followed by the serrated edge of a carving knife.

She was sawing through his throat, severing his head from the rest of his body!

And Hans could still feel everything, as the teeth of the stainless steel blade mercilessly ran in and out of his flesh. Soon, like a collapsing tree, his head cracked forward and fell face-first onto the table, rolling to one side before Wendy picked him up and sat him on a plate at the other side of the table.

At least now, he thought, I won’t have to feel my body’s pain any longer, with my head detached from it.

But the clever witch had already planned for that!

Hans still felt every puncture of the fork, and every slice of the carving knife, as he watched his own body being served up to his family like a Christmas turkey.

And all he could do was sit there, on his plate, facing his family of witches and wincing in pain as they divvied up his thighs, his “wings,” his loins, his ribs, his rump…one by one, each prime cut practically fell off the bone and made its way onto the plates of his hungry sister, mother and grandmother.

The separation of his meat from his body brought no escape from the torment, either. Every little stab of the ladies’ forks and knives into their pieces of Hans was felt by him, as were the sensations of being chewed and chewed before being swallowed and journeying down their gullets to be digested.

Occasionally they’d pause from stuffing themselves, and through the delirium of their ravenous feeding frenzy they’d giggle at him from across the table. Then they’d belch at him, or mockingly blow kisses to the crispy-brown head that was watching them eat the body to which he’d recently been attached. Knowing, full well, that he could feel every bite as their teeth sank into him over and over.

Soon, it became apparent to the boy that these witch’s appetites weren’t anything like human beings. As soon as one cut of roast Hans was finished, they moved on to the next one without slowing down. And then the next, and the next, as he saw his body become a mere desiccated carcass on a plate.

The insatiable witches were able to consume his every pound of edible flesh without ever getting full, and at superhuman speed as well!

With bitter irony, her remembered his sister’s years of struggling with food after deciding she wanted to be a model. The portion controls, the diets…well, now it seemed Greta had finally found a way to eat as much as she wanted!

Eventually, the witches picked Hans completely clean and there wasn’t a single morsel of man-meat left on his pile of bones.

Monika served some after-dinner wine, and as they drank and patted their soft bulging bellies with satisfaction, they began to chat amongst themselves as any normal family would. Wendy showed Monika her daughter’s fresh signature in the book of the damned, and then showed Greta where her mother had signed it all those many years ago, per family tradition.

After the book was put away, Greta started going on about her strategies to audition as a model, while his mother and grandmother chimed in about where she might find an apartment and other such practical concerns. It was quite uncanny and bizarre for Hans to hear such relatively mundane talk after everything that had transpired.

But when their conversation turned to complimenting the meal they’d made of Hans, they seemed to take notice of his head once again. And, not liking the feeling of being stared at any longer, they moved his head under the dining table where his face could be used as a footrest for the pointy heels of their shoes.

Being a mother and daughter of the old country, Wendy and Monika’s talk slowly turned to reminiscence of the vaterland and they decided to reconvene their family reunion to Wendy’s living room, and her grand piano.

There, the trio had another glass of wine while Wendy took to the keys and entertained her guests by playing rousing renditions of traditional Bavarian folk songs, to which Greta and Monika happily sang along.

Hans had no chance to accompany the chorus of Ein Prosit or any other jaunty tune. For although his depraved family did bring him along to the living room, and were even so kind as to remove the baked apple from his mouth, he still had no capacity to speak - let along sing.

“But” his mother remarked, “The boy could still use his tongue, couldn’t he?”

And that was how Hans’ head started being passed around the room, and pressed between the legs of his mother, grandmother and sister.

As they swigged more wine and belted out increasingly slurred renditions of Bavarian beer hall favorites, soon came the occasional screaming orgasms from the ladies as he serviced the women, or “Cleaned our kitties” as Wendy put it.

The coup de grace of his humiliation, however, came when the ladies began taking Hans’ head with them to the water closet. There he was made to witness his own reduction into defecation, while perched beside the toilet on the bathroom countertop.


As dawn broke across the smoggy LA sky, Monika departed for her hotel while Greta collapsed in Wendy’s guest room, totally exhausted. The stimulants of her grandmother’s magic had finally worn off, her belly was pleasingly full of her brother, and her pussy had been satisfied by her new “toy” as well.

The young girl’s final surprise came when she woke up, went to the bathroom and saw in the mirror that her blonde hair had turned black, like her mother and grandmother’s!

Wendy explained that while this was a side effect of becoming a witch, she could still change her hair color at will, as her mother had. Greta wasn’t sure right away how long she might keep her new hair for, as she rather liked the “darker” look it gave her.

After a few days’ visit, Monika went home to Germany. Soon after, Greta was able to find an apartment of her own and was kind enough to bring Hans along, as well: his new home was an ordinary-looking hat box, at the top shelf of her closet.

Just as her grandmother had predicted, Greta landed her first modeling contract within a week. And once her career ramped up into high gear, Hans provided an essential “service” to his sister whenever she took him down from his shelf, so that he could lend her sweaty crotch some relief after a long stressful modeling shoot.

Under grandmother Wendy’s tutelage, Greta learned to master the dark arts herself and she too became devious enough to trick unsuspecting boys home. Though she lacked a giant oven like her grandmother’s, she made do by using the magic spells necessary to paralyze young men with magically fattening gingerbread houses, and prepare them for their long journey into a sexy young witch’s tummy.

Hans’ head, even from his box stored away in Greta’s bedroom closet, would hear everything: the sex, the screams, the feast.

And every time his sister-witch Greta ate a new boy, it would take his memory right back to that day his life effectively ended, as though it were only yesterday.

That day when, once upon a time, Hans and Greta got lost and met a witch who lived in a gingerbread house.

And they all live happily ever after.

Or at least, all beautiful well-fed witches did!

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