u/Innocuous_Ape

DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of fiction. All characters are at least 18 years of age.

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It was a Tuesday night. I was on the couch, beer bottle open, popcorn bowl full, and wishing I could be him.

The man in question was Richard Armstrong: male model, former college track star, and most importantly for my purposes, the stud fucking a nameless broad on a restored video of a fuckstop. He was somewhat of a celebrity way back when, recording and posting his romantic escapades for the world to see, trying to warm up society to the idea of snuff.

Like Richard was in his day, fuckstops were something of legend among twenty-something men like myself. They started purely as population control centers during the Crunch, a period of near apocalypse as Glacial Blight devoured the world’s food supply while the global population soared, but as time went on and the world started slipping into despair, the world’s governments began opening these execution centers up to the general public so the survivors could get one last gift from the snufflets before they unceremoniously lost their heads. No one knows exactly how many were culled in those facilities, but ask any history teacher and they’ll say that fuckstops killed more women than any other cause in human history.

I watched Richard as he plowed the pussy of the anonymous woman in the guillotine. She was about my age by the looks of it, tall, and fit. There was no ways she was single before she died, and with a sleek muscular body like that, I can see why the government chose her; I would’ve put a baby in her in a heartbeat.

And I guess Richard did too, because with a heaving grunt, he buried himself as far into this woman’s snatch as he could, tilting his head back a bit as he did so. He stood there moaning, taking in the moment before raising his his arm slapping the red "Kill" button to his right. In an instant, the guillotine’s blade started to fall, racing down its track as it barreled towards its target. It connected with the brunette’s neck with a thluk, separating her head from the rest of her body. I stared mesmerized as she fell into the basket, landing face down before rolling to the side. The camera then panned down to her slit. Richard withdrew himself from her pussy, a stream of cum following his prick. He pointed at the creampie and triumphantly boasted to the man behind the camera, “Dude, I think I knocked her up!”

The video ended with the influencer thanking all of his supporters and encouraging them to both not exceed their rations and to give their local fuckstop a try. The recording then faded to black and I went to sleep.

I woke up feeling jealous. As you might have guessed from the fact that I had popcorn last night, Glacial Blight is a thing of the past, and with it, the Federal Fuckstop Program was wound down. And while privately-owned ones initially carried on, almost all of them have closed in the 30 years since the Right to Snuff Act outlawed all forms of for-profit homicide. I felt robbed. Sure, I was thankful for living in an age where people can put food on their plate and meaningfully connect with women without the fear that they’ll be ripped away, but I couldn’t deny my belief that we let a good thing go to waste by shuttering the fuckstops.

And that jealousy pretty well set the sour tone for the day. After getting ready, I stepped outside, nearly lost some papers I was carrying to a gust of wind, rode to work in a robo-taxi, and upon walking into my office immediately saw my coworker Molly Cutter working her charms on our boss Mike. If you asked her to describe herself, Molly was the poster child of Post-Crunch Feminism, exuding confidence, showing nothing but care, and always trying to empower others. That sounds great until you work with her and realize that in actuality, Molly is a total bitch who is emotionally manipulative and constantly makes reckless impulsive decisions out of spite. I swear the only reason she’s at my level in the office is because she wears these tight-fitting pants that leave very little about her shape to the imagination. I wonder if she has daddy issues.

When I got closer, I realized Molly was trying to get my boss to reassign the review of the latest round of bridge project bids from her to me. For once, Mike didn’t instantly cave in to her demands, but as he pushed back, Molly began making a scene. To avoid a complete shitshow, Mike called her into his office to continue their discussion. I swear I saw him reach under under her blazer as they went in and locked the door.

Thirty minutes later, the sweaty disheveled couple came out of my boss’s office and walked to my desk. My boss then explained to me that he wanted me to review the project bids, citing my “recent uptick in performance that made me the right man for the job”. Bullshit, I thought, watching a shit-eating grin flash across Molly’s rose-red lips. I tried to think of a way to flip the situation back on her without calling her out for how she likely convinced Mike during their time alone, but nothing came to mind. Defeated, I took over the brunette’s review duty.

In all honesty, reviewing the project bids wasn’t that bad. I like large-scale region-altering projects like bridge-building. It’s why I got into the construction industry instead of taking my accounting skills to somewhere like a bank. The problem is I do appreciate other things in life too, so having to work until 6:30 PM peeved me off.

After finally getting out of the office, I felt... empty. I was doing well in life, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was all for and whether my genuine efforts would even get me that reward when someone like Molly could swoop in and schmooze her way up the ladder. I decided to clear my head with a walk, and I knew just the place to go.

Hazelwood isn’t that big of a town, but its proximity to I-95 meant it was heavily traversed. Thus, in the heyday of the practice, Hazelwood had its own fuckstop. Nowadays, it’s long-abandoned, the floor stripped of its tile down to the concrete, the brick walls cracked, and the roof mostly gone after having blown apart in a freak windstorm. The contents weren’t in great shape either. Originally, this building must have had at least a dozen guillotines, but now, they were in varying states of decay. Only one slaughter station had so much as a complete bascule and lunette left.

It was there I undid my pants, sat down, took in the cool evening breeze, and fantasized about this place’s glory days. The idea of beautiful women being in the middle of their lives only to receive the call, dolling themselves up, and dutifully settling themselves in as they awaited their release excited me. I imagined walking in and seeing women of various walks of life all united by their impending demise. Some probably chatted with each other while under the blade, others probably focused on making their last moments of sexual pleasure count, and still others probably lied prone on the bascule in silence, scared out of their pretty little minds. I imagined approaching one of those women, slipping my cock out, and inspecting her holes. In this particular fantasy, I decided her ass would deliver maximum pleasure, so I used the complimentary lube and starting making love to it. The woman in my waking dream was tight, squeezing down on my cock like an imploding star, trying to make diamonds out of my dick. As the fantasy went, I got more and more aroused, and just as I was about to climax...

In the corner of my eye, I the shadow of a person cross the door separating the killing floor from the fuckstop’s waiting room. I instantly zipped my pants and got to my feet as quietly as I could in my flustered state. Given the silhouette's position and angle, I didn’t think that they saw me, but with no other easy way out, I wanted to make sure. Thus, I tip-toed over, looking around the doorframe to see who it was, and my jaw dropped.

It was Molly.

My surprise was audible. Molly was also caught off guard and turned around.

“Oh, Jeremy!” she said, looking visibly upset but trying her best to fake a smile, “Crazy to see you here. Are you also an urban explorer?”

To Molly’s credit, she had mentioned an interest in urban exploration before, but she was still in her work clothes, and so was I. Still, her attempt at forced cheerfulness caught me off guard.

“Uh, no, I was just taking a walk,” I lied.

“Uh-huh,” Molly enunciated while making a show of nodding her head, “Do you usually moan that much on your walks?”

I double-took as my mind blanked in a panic. This was bad, really bad! I played the only card I could think of.

“As much as you did in Mike’s office today,” I retorted.

Now it was Molly’s turn to be on the defensive. She blushed as her heart rate picked up, her breasts starting to move a bit with her breathing.

She spoke frantically, “I-I’m not sure what you mean! I went to bat for you today! M-Mike said he wasn’t sure about you after you filed that report late! I highlighted all the g-great stuff you’ve done! I’m sorry I can’t live up to you!”

Then a paper fell from her hands and a gust of wind blew it towards me. I picked it up. It was a Snuff Contract: a legal document signed by a snufflet and their desired killer to certify to authorities that the act was done consensually. It contains details like the time, place, and method, and as long as the killer(s) abide by those parameters, they are legally protected from being charged for the deed. I read it.

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Time: Between 5:15 PM and 7:15 PM, June 21st, 21XX

Place: Hazelwood Fuckstop - 323 Green Mile Ln, Hazelwood, NJ, 55555

Method: Decapitation with sharp instrument

Extra Details: None

Snuffee: Molly Cutter

Snuffer: Michael Dugaravich

Notarized by: Harold Johnson

Note: All acts of snuff must be reported within 2 hours of death as not to waste police resources on frivolous missing person searches. Failure to report will waive all legal protections granted by this form.

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Michael Dugaravich. Our boss. What. The. Fuck.

I looked Molly in the eyes. She was covering her face in utter embarrassment, trying to shrink into nothing so she could hide from me. I asked her what the meaning of this paper was.

She broke down in tears, nearly collapsing to the ground blurting “Fine! I’ve been sleeping with Mike! It’s been a really hard year and I let my work suffer! I needed something to make up for my loss of performance and I offered him my body!”

I knelt down and looked at her with concern, “But why this?”

She sobbed even more, “Because I want a break and no one will give me one! I just want out! I’ve already spent all my money living up my last days! And he didn’t even show up!”

I checked my smartwatch. 7:20 PM. Damn, I thought, Mike stood her up.

I reached out to her shoulder to calm her. Even a brat like Molly didn’t deserve this. I asked her, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

She shook her head, despondently muttering, “No, I’m screwed either way. Like I said, I’ve spent all my money, told all my friends I was going to die, and my one true love left me behind. The only thing left for me to look forward to is...” Molly trailed off as something across the street caught her eye. It was the flickering sign of a building labelled “Johnson Notary”. She smiled and purred, “...payback.”.

It dawned on me what her plan was. I sputtered, “You really want me to-” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. I threw my arms in the air and shouted, “I thought you hated me!”

Molly got up a bit to so we could be face-to-face, grabbing my inner thigh for leverage as she did. She looked at me with a new calm demeanor and spoke softly, “Hate and jealousy are two very different things, Jeremy. Besides, I know you’re not a fan of Mike. Wouldn’t it feel great to snuff his girl?”

I reflexively started to say something rather rude but paused to contemplate the offer. She must have seen me weighing the decision, so she put her hands on my shoulders, leaned in until our noses were practically touching, and seductively whispered, “Besides, I have a feeling you have some fantasies you want to live out.”

In a moment, I made my decision and sealed it with a kiss. Our lips rubbed smoothly across each other, her makeup making the perfect lubrication. Then, we opened our mouths and started invading each other, our tongues dancing and mingling in passion, both of us desperate for something to complete us. As we made out, our hands also explored each other. For my part, I found that Molly had a semi-athletic body with smooth curves, a flat stomach, and defined hips. Molly meanwhile went straight for my ass, squeezing it in her hands. I returned the favor. Her cheeks moved like putty in my hands.

After about 30 seconds, we pulled back, silently nodded to each other, and walked to the notary. We had to wait a few minutes there for another couple, but then it was our turn. As is required by law, the snuffee, Molly, was the only one allowed to edit the contract. She started by updating the time and crossing out Mike’s name. Then, she looked at me, flicked her tongue, and wrote mine in instead. The notary then spoke to me for about ten minutes to get some basic information and my fingerprints in case I decided to violate the agreement. Molly watched us intently at first, but evidently she lost interest in the process because after a few minutes I looked over to see her scrolling on her phone. Fair enough, I thought, She’s obviously been through this process once before. For my part, I complied with all legal requirement and we were set with a newly-notarized document within half-an-hour.

Molly and I practically galloped to the fuckstop, giddy with anticipation for what we just agreed to. Once inside, we got to as private of an area as the dilapidated building allowed, which ended up being near the center of the facility where two interior walls met. The roof there was tattered, barely hanging on, but it was in the best shape of anywhere on the premises. Thanks to its protection, the guillotine station underneath it was still in a recognizable state. Sure, the risers and blade making up the execution mechanism were long gone, but the snuflett-restraining bascule and lunette were mostly in place. And, with it being the Summer Solstice, we still had a good amount of time before the natural light faded from the open sky. I looked at Molly, examining her for inspiration, and asked her, “So, how were you and Mike planning to do this?”

Molly’s eyes flashed with lust as she cutely replied, “Well, Mikey was going to tie me up and hack my head off, but seeing as he was going to bring the rope, I guess we can’t do that.” She then looked at the installation beside her with a nearly-complete set of restraints and in a teasing voice said, “I guess that’ll do. Why don’t we get ready, babe?”

I enthusiastically answered her request by getting to work on my dress shirt, unbuttoning it before setting it aside. As I did this, I saw Molly started to put on a show, first grabbing her dark-grey blazer by the right, then by the left, loosening it. She then angled her arms down backwards, letting gravity slide the expensive piece of work apparel onto the rough dusty floor. With that out of the way, Molly slowly undid her white button-up shirt, going button-by-button from top to bottom. When she reached her stomach she paused. Taking her tits into her hands, she massaged herself and started moaning. As she did this, her nipples hardened, each one pushing against her skimpy pink bra, begging to be let free. She then kicked off her shoes, pulled off her socks, and removed her belt. Her suit-pants fell a bit before resting on the widest point of her hips. My eyes were drawn to the sight, and seeing my face as well as the tent in my pants, Molly stopped to confidently smirk, pleased with the reception she was getting.

Seeing her pause, I stepped in to help, undoing her pants' button and zipper with one hand while my other reached below her. I took a moment to feel her heat through her pants then stooped low to slide them down so she could step out of them with her dainty feet. I reached out and kissed one of them on the top.

“Ooooh!” Molly bubbled, “I didn’t know you were that kind of guy!”

“Not really”, I lied, “Just got caught up in the moment.” Even though I was going to kill her, I still wasn't quite comfortable enough around Molly to let her know about that.

“Sure, sure,” she chuckled, her diva side flashing in her eyes. “Now, let me get my goods out.”

Molly reached behind her and undid her bra. She held still for a second, taking pleasure in my desperation to see her tits. She then brought her hands forward and finally let the bra fall to the ground, the breeze carrying it ever so slightly. She followed up by wiggling her hips, and after some teasing, her panties were also on the floor. While she did this, I finished disrobing myself. My routine wasn’t as sexy as Molly’s, but then again, I’ve never had my job depend on a striptease. Finally, everything was ready. The only thing missing was...

“The axe!” Molly gasped before running naked over to where I first found her. I heard her reach for something, and then she came back in carrying a backpack. As she did so, she pulled out a hatchet.

She handed it to me and purred, “You’ll need this.” The tool felt solid in my hands, obviously of high quality, with a polished rubber-lined wooden handle and a hefty metal blade. I took a few practice swings in the air to get an idea of how it handled. After that, Molly then motioned to the remains of the guillotine station and invitingly giggled, “Shall we?”

I held her hand and we walked together. The bascule and lunnete were still in good shape for their age, protected by the two walls and the gently swaying section of roof. When this place was in operation, there would’ve been a disposable blanket for the snufflet to lie on, but with none on hand, we used Molly’s clothes instead. As Molly sat down, we kissed again, tasting each other in the cooling breezy dusk as I groped her right breast, feeling her warm udder wobble in my grasp. She reached for my dick and started stroking it while I felt her, her fingers wrapped around my throbbing cock and massaging it until it was slicked with precum and fully erect.

After a minute of this, I laid Molly prone on her stomach and began engaging the restraints. They weren’t in good shape. Actually, they were in terrible shape, but after putting in some effort, I managed to her get her wrists and neck neatly locked in, having to slightly adjust the latter to ensure I would have enough room for the hatchet to connect when the time came. As for the leg restraints they used to keep the snufflets from kicking? They were a lost cause, so I didn’t even bother and just let her settle into a kneeling position. Her pussy was splayed open by her legs straddling the bascule.

“Now,” I stated with excitement, “How do you want to do this?”

Molly pondered for a second, considering her desires. I guess Mike was a much more dominant type. I decided to play into that by suggesting, “How about I lick your slit?”

Molly squealed with a mix of surprise and delight, “Yes, please! I love a man who knows how to eat a girl’s pussy!” And so I went to the end of the bascule between her legs, knelt on the ground, used my tongue to moisten my lips, and began making out with her clitoris. Molly gasped and started moaning, softly at first, and then slowly picking up intensity. I got into a rhythm, picking up the pace just a little and widening my motions to incorporate her rough, sensitive folds, enjoying every texture she had to offer. Soon, she was melting in my grasp, moaning like a drugged-up whore while her body bucked under the heavy restraints.

I kept up my oral pampering of Molly’s snatch for what felt like a laborous eternity. Finally, she managed to stammer out the words while moaning, “I-I’m-ohmygodohmygod-CUMMING!” and I felt a warm liquid leak from her pussy. I lapped up some of her juices. They were sweet and salty, as if you combined Molly’s glowing persona with her acidic personality. I slowly wound down my tonguework.

After pulling back, I noticed that I was so concentrated on the task at hand that my dick had partially softened. So I got up, walked up to her head, and motioned her to open her mouth.

She laughed, “I thought you were a foot guy.”

I played it off, “Even if I was, your feet aren’t in a good position for any fun. No way to make that work.”

She sighed and playfully replied, “Al-right. Come to mama!”

She opened her mouth and I placed my dick inside. With seconds, her tongue met my cock and started the same routine as when we kissed. As I slowly thrusted, my cock sprang back to life as her swirling tongue did wonders on my tip and worked on coating the part of my shaft in her mouth with saliva. After a few of these thrusts, I picked up the pace and started going deeper, causing Molly eye’s to focus on the appendage invading her. She reacting by making a thumbs up with her right hand as I pushed her boundaries, giving me the okay to explore further into her warm delectable mouth. As I did, Molly’s tongue became exponentially more pleasure-inducing, using more and more of it’s length to service my cock, moistening, lubricating it, and applying whatever pressure it could in all of the right areas. Once I reached a depth of 5 inches and a fast but not overwhelming facefucking speed, Molly flicked her thumb sideways, telling me to go no further. Part of me wanted to contnue deeper anyway as payback for her years of egotism and selfishness, but I know Molly is a fighter, and even in this captive state, I was scared of what she would do to me. I held my pace. With my excursions into Molly’s throat having reached a steady pattern, I saw hey eyes shift from the cock sliding in and out of her lips to the man she entrusted with ending her pathetic life. I caught her gaze, her pretty blue eyes watching with lust and hunger for more as my own face melted with contentment from her throat’s entryway tickling the sensitive bottom of my tip every time I pushed forward. She complemented this by repeatedly stretching her neck, doing all she could to please her soon-to-be killer. She looked so pretty with my dick in her mouth. If I wasn’t about to end her, I’d suggest to her that she try this look more often. Lessons learned for the next girl, I guess.

After a few minutes of this, I reached the point where I either had to pull out or ejaculate down my coworker’s throat. I chose the former and carefully withdrew my cock from Molly’s jaw, trying not to make any sudden movements that would push me over the edge. After I successfully did so, I stood there for a second both to catch my breath and let Molly get one last look at the rod that was about to snuff her. Molly smiled at my throbbing erection, evidently proud of her ability to please a man, something very unlike the Molly I’ve known. She then looked to the side, staring intently at the hatchet laying on her backpack. She started putting some sort of idea together in hear head, but at this point, I decided it was time to cement my authority over her, stating, “Okay, here’s the plan: I’m going to fuck your pussy until you cum. Then, once you start reach the peak of your orgasm, I’ll pull out, grab the hatchet, and cut your head off. Got it?”"

She enthusiastically replied, “Yes, do it to me!”

And so I moved back to her pelvic region and positioned myself for insertion. I rubbed my cock up and down my colleague's lips, feeling her moisture and teasing her as she squealed. Then, I grabbed her by the hips, lined up dead-center with her enchanting hole, and pushed forward, entering her vagina as she gasped in pleasure, a soft “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh” emanating from her.

It took a few minutes, but soon I was in a rhythm, firmly grasping Molly’s hips and tickling her insides with every ridge and vein my cock had to offer. As I did this, Molly’s ass vibrated, each impact of my hips against her rear sending a wave towards her waist with an accompanying slapping noise that joined with the creaking roof swaying in the strengthening wind to form a passionate ambience. Molly added to the auditory experience, delivering a series of carnal moans as my shaft rubbed against her g-spot, exclaiming “Fuck! Fuck! Oh your cock feels so gooooood!” Her pussy rewarded me nicely, lightly clenching every few seconds as my cock pushed in and out of her tunnel. As we progressed, Molly began wiggling her ass to enhance my experience, adding a new dimension to each plunge of my cock as it struggled mightily in a desperate attempt to reach her cervix. I slapped her ass, creating a shockwave of flesh, and instantly started to panic thinking that I ruined this special moment. To my surprise though, slapping Molly only seemed to turn her on more, as I heard her groan, “Yeah daddy, punish me harder.” I slapped her again, this time with more force on the other cheek, leaving a momentary red mark. She moaned even louder “Dadddddyyyy!!!”

As we continued, Molly and I both sank deeper and deeper into the throes of bliss. Soon, the movements of my pelvis became muscle memory. In this flow state, my senses started to feel funny. My ears seemed to recalibrate themselves, shutting out all noise but Molly’s expressions of pleasure and the constant drones of plap plap plap as our bodies kept bouncing off each other. My eyes meanwhile, did the opposite, becoming unfocused and starting to wander. First, they went to Molly’s ass cheeks, which were jiggling with the motion of her body. Then I saw the lunette and imagined what standing here must have felt like in the Crunch. My mind went back to those videos. I’d seen dozens of them, all like this, with a handsome man trying to make it through a rough time as he buried himself in some unlucky snufflet’s holes. I remembered my day, with the late work, horrible boss, and that uncomfortable feeling of unfulfillment. As I did, the nymphomaniac who caused it all was desperately squeezing my cock, pleading with me between moans, “C’mon Daddy! Molly’s been a good girl! Give me your warm sticky love and chop my head off!” As she begged, I felt a connection to those days, when food was scarce but girls were free. The guillotine materialized in my mind, its rope taut, its risers sturdy, and its blade slicked in snufflets’ blood. It was ready to slice Molly’s head off. As I beheld it, I hastened my pace, Molly’s pussy started quivering erratically, and I felt a pressure in my balls telling me I was about to go over the edge. I heard Molly shout, “YES, YES, YES, GIVE IT TO ME DADDY!!! OH MY GOD I’M GONNA CUM RIGHT ON YOUR COCK!!! QUICKLY, CUT YOUR LITTLE GIRL’S HEAD OFF!!! FILL ME WITH YOUR CUM AND TAKE WHAT’S YOURS!!!” It was time. All I had to do was reach out, press the imaginary button, and-

As I reached out, a large gust of wind hit the building. The walls next to us creaked, the remainder of the roof heaved, and a loud SNAP occurred just above where we were making love. A large thin piece of fiberglass fell, turned edge-down, and landed directly on Molly’s neck. It connected with a wet squelch followed by a loud CRUNCH as it cut just over halfway through her before falling to the side. Her blood and tissue splattered along with fragments of the fallen ceiling material and chips of wood from the lunette*.* Without the muscles in the back of her neck, Molly’s head slumped forward, hanging only by a collection of crushed tissues and hemorrhaging blood vessels. In any other scenario, this would’ve immediately ruined the mood, but in the intoxicating depths of such passionate snuff, all this did was push us over the edge. We came at basically the same time, her pussy clamping down hard on my cock as her entire body convulsed, coating my throbbing erection in warm, slippery girl-cum as I painted the interior of her vaginal canal with cum. Her dying spasms felt so good, and judging by Molly’s babbling about her dad through the blood in her mouth, I guess they felt just as heavenly to her too. So I continued thrusting as I injected my seed as far into the dying girl as I could, vainly attempting to impregnate my expiring coworker. Once I was done, I withdrew my enraptured juice-slicked cock from Molly, backed up to avoid her now-flailing legs, and ran around them to her wounded head. As quickly as I could, I, grabbed the hatchet with both hands, lifted it above my head, and with all the might I could muster, slammed the blade down on her neck to finish the job and send her head to the floor.

The hatchet tore clean-through the rest of Molly’s neck, fully separating her head from her shoulders and sending it straight to the ground. It hit the concrete with a thud, blood splashing out of her neck hole on impact. Meanwhile, her body continued writhing like crazy, sending spurts of blood flying everywhere as it slowly lost its energy. I dropped the blade and immediately squatted down to take hold of Molly’s head. I gazed into her eyes, which were now pointed forward, likely having reached that position as the carpentry tool tore through what little remained of her flesh. She was alive, but fading fast. I had an instant to decide what to do, so to finish our passion in the way it started, I held her to my face, closed my eyes, and kissed her. She died on my lips.

After the rigorous activity I had just put myself through, I decided to take a breather. I grabbed Molly’s backpack and opened it, finding a protein bar and a small bottle of water. How nice of her, I thought as I ate the snack and gulped the liquid down. I sat down and surveyed my handiwork. Molly’s body was still on the bascule, her pussy leaking cum and her neck still oozing blood. The fuckstop floor beneath her was red; probably for the first time in a while. I watched the puddle expand before finally putting my clothes back on.

At this point, I was rather tired, but I needed to handle a couple of things. I started by grabbing the contract, wiping off the blood that had splashed on it so it could be read, and calling 555: the police’s snuff reporting hotline. I waited in the corner nervously, looking at the leading edge of the fiberglass that had fallen into Molly’s neck and wondering if the cops would believe me. The department sent two officers who read over the snuff contract and did a quick check of the premises for anything suspicious. They asked me about the bloody fiberglass and I sheepishly explained what had happened with the roof. The officers recreated the moment by holding Molly’s head up to the neck hole on her body and matching a portion of the fiberglass to the large gash that ran through the back half of my colleague’s neck. Then, after doing the same with the hatchet and conversing with someone at the station, the pair let me know that I had fulfilled the conditions of the agreement, granting me full legal immunity. I was then asked if I wanted to take anything from my victim. At first I double-took, but after considering the offer, I decided that I was really only interested in her shoes. Finally, I chatted with the officers while we waited for the coroner to come recover the cooling body. Tax dollars at work.

I went to bed that night feeling much more fulfilled, having finally achieved one of my wildest dreams. I woke up feeling great, like everything was going to be alright. I ate my breakfast, called my friend Tony to tell him what had happened, and went off to work. For the first time in years, I entered that building with a smile, greeting everyone on my way to my desk.

There I saw Mike. He had his phone in his hand. On it was a series of text messages.

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Mike: “Sorry to have to do this at the last minute, but my brother was injured in a serious car crash. I need to go take care of my nephew tonight. We’ll have to reschedule your death to some other day.”

Molls <3: “Oh no! I hope your brother’s okay! I just got here, so I’ll just head home and maybe binge-watch some cooking shows!”

Molls <3: An image. It was a picture of me at the notary, talking to the notary as we made preparations for the night ahead. It was captioned, “Guess who won my heart (and head) tonight!”

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That utter bitch!

DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of fiction. All characters are at least 18 years of age.

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Being a forensic students has its perks. You get to meet tons of people, girls love to talk to you about “true crime”, and if you know the right people, you can indulge yourself in some privileges other students don’t get to have. At Fairfield University, one of those privileges is access to the “Lost and Found”: a treasure trove of discarded items seized by the University PD through civil forfeiture that are usually not worth the effort to auction off. As a grad student getting fucked in the ass by student loans, I took full advantage of this bonus.

It was on one of those days that I think this all began. It was late August, a few days after classes started. I had gotten up early and drove my old pickup truck down from my isolated run-down rental house outside town to the university. There, I met up with my friend Katie for breakfast, and after she left for her first class, I decided to kill some time by looking through a box of “Lost and Found” that some University PD officers “misplaced” just outside the locked evidence room in the forensic science building.

Unfortunately, someone else had already beaten me to it. Her name was Ji-Yoo Park: a slim yet voluptuous Korean exchange student who I shared a few classes with. I was a little upset to see her there since the first person to arrive each day usually finds any cash that accidentally made its way to the “Lost and Found”, but I had always thought Ji-Yoo to be attractive so I kept my mouth shut.

The box had the usual things you’d expect: old clothing, busted electronics, and some backpacks that may at one point have been used in the commissioning of a crime. Usually it’s nothing special, but that day, as I was rummaging through the miscellanea, I knocked over a duffel bag, and what slipped out immediately caught my eye.

The object in question appeared to be a hunting knife of sorts. It was about 12 inches in length, about half of which was a purple-and-black rubber hilt and the other half a shiny sleek curved steel blade. How it ended up in the “Lost and Found” was beyond me, but I instantly saw the value in it and picked it up for the first time. Holding it in my hands, I don’t quite know how to describe the feeling, but it gave me an almost intoxicating sense of focus and power; like I could do things I previously thought impossible, like the only limits in my life were in my mind.

Ji-Yoo saw the knife too, shocked, and after a second she asked, “Is that supposed to be evidence?”

I looked up at her and began to blush. Talking to pretty women always makes me nervous, and with Ji-Yoo’s fair skin, bright-red makeup, and jet-black hair, I was very nervous. The surprised face with a barely-opened mouth didn’t help things.

I stammered, “Wel- Well if it is, then I guess it has been contaminated. Hard to use in court now.”

She looked at me and warned, “I would get rid of that, Nathan. Having that could get you in trouble.”

“G-Good idea,” I stammered once again, now becoming slightly aware of the erection forming in my pants. “I’ll go do that right now.”

And with that, I dropped the knife into my backpack and made my way out of the hallway with zero intention of disposing it.

Over the next few days, the hunting knife quickly became one of my most prized possessions. At first, I just put in on a small display in my room, but soon I began to actually use it, first for cutting meat, then in whittling with soap, wood, and even leftover bones from meal prep. It felt nice to finally have a hobby where I was expressing myself.

However, with it all came some rather... disturbing thoughts. It started with dreams. The first one occurred the night after I found the knife and I remember it vividly. It began with me and Ji-Yoo; just when I had discovered the knife in the “Lost and Found”. Just like in reality, Ji-Yoo and I had our quick conversation, but in the dream, right when I was about to leave, Ji-Yoo noticed my boner and beckoned me over. Cooing, she undid my pants and began playing with my cock, feeling it in her soft and delicate hands as she knelt in front of me. Then, she took my member into her mouth and began sucking on it. First she did it slowly, swirling her tongue around the head of my penis, then deeper and deeper until her lips were kissing my pelvis. Soon, her head was bobbing back and forth, gliding on my shaft at incredible speed. However, no matter how hard she tried, I couldn’t cum. Eventually she stopped with my dick jamming her esophagus and motioned me to hold her head firmly with my left hand. Then she, grabbed my right arm by the wrist, which was still holding the knife, and guided it to the back of her throat. She then pulled back to make sure I wasn’t in too deep and I sliced her neck, severing her head and causing me to instantly cum. I felt euphoric, and I continued to force-fuck her dying head as I came, the tip of my prick reaching out into the air where her torso had once been; blood and cum spurting from her neck-hole every time I thrusted. I continued like this for several minutes, until I finally decided to withdraw from Ji-Yoo’s warm, moist jaw.

As the orgasm wound down, I pulled out and looked at Ji-Yoo’s face. Her eyes were wide open, pupils dilated in what looked like surprise and/or terror. I then cast my gaze beyond to her decapitated body. It was collapsed to the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood with traces of semen mixed in. At this point, the endorphins really started to fade, and as they did, it dawned on me what I had just done.

I awoke in a panic, worried that I had just killed a woman and was going to get caught, but fortunately, I found myself in my own bed and the only fluid I could feel was my own cum. Thankfully, it was just a dream.

Well, that’s what I wanted to say, but in reality it was a lot more than just one dream. It quickly became multiple dreams every night for nearly three months. Each one played out the same way: I meet Ji-Yoo, have sex with Ji-Yoo, cut Ji-Yoo’s head off, and cum. It was distressing to say the least, and the fact that I had classes with her did not help things AT ALL. Plus, it was made even worse by the fact that every week or so, something seemed to happen that would force Ji-Yoo closer to me whether it be physically through group assignments or in a more metaphorical sense like when she started hanging out with Katie after classes.

And it’s not like I didn’t try avoiding her. After every class I had with her I’d book it out of there as soon as I could, I began taking one of my classes virtually so I didn’t have to look at her gorgeous face, and I even started eating at that new-age vegan restaurant specifically because I knew she hated it. It helped, but at great cost to my sanity, academic performance, and in the case of the restaurant, taste buds. However, at the end of the day, I was staying behaved, my grades weren’t awful, and I was coping with all of the stress and lost sleep by doing a lot of whittling and wood-carving, still using that knife though I hid it away otherwise. All I needed to do was keep this up for a few more weeks until the semester ended and I could transfer to some no-name college that Ji-Yoo would never follow me to even if she was actively chasing me down.

Then came the night of November 19^(th).

It the first day of Thanksgiving break and a miserable one for sure. It had rained all day, and there was little sign of it stopping. As a result, most students either stayed inside or traveled out of town, which I observed as I watched through the trees to see the cars pass by on the remote back road that secluded my rental house from most of civilization. For my part, I spent most of the day inside, working on my most ambitious wood-carving project yet: a bust of the Virgin Mary.

So it came as a bit of a surprise when around eight o’clock at night. I saw a light flash through my window followed by the sound of a crash somewhere in the woods adjoining my yard. Alarmed, I opened my front door and turned on the porch light. Initially, I didn’t see anything, but as I stepped out from my door frame, I saw someone slowly emerge, limping from the bushes. At first, it was hard to make out any details, but as they moved into the light and removed their helmet, my heart sank as I realized right in front of me stood Ji-Yoo Park.

“Nathan!” she exclaimed, recognizing me. “I am so sorry! I thought this was th- AH!”

She stumbled, unable to put her weight on her left leg, which was visibly twisted and broken near the ankle. I ran to help her, intrusive thoughts be damned, and supported her on my shoulder human crutch-style. I could feel her weight pressing on me like a heated blanket, her arm hanging over my neck, her delicate wrist in my grasp.

When we got moving, she continued, “... I thought this was the way to Brekville. I left my phone at home and didn’t have my GPS.”

The phrase “left my phone at home” hung in my mind for a second.

I asked her, “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”

She hissed and took in a shallow gasp. “Yeah, my leg hurts bad. Really bad. I need to lay down.”

I guided her into my house and onto the sectional couch. As I slowly lowered us both down, I felt her silky smooth hair, wet with sweat and rain, brush against me. It smelled like lavender and honey and reminded me of the warm feeling you have in a lover’s embrace. I started to feel a stir in my pants.

As I got up, she reached for my arm. I turned around and looked into her eyes, which were welling with tears. She whimpered, “Thank you.”

I used that moment to look over her. She was obviously hurt, but aside from her leg, not that badly. The bushes must have absorbed the brunt of the impact. Her torn jacket and shirt attested to that, having large gashes in them that revealed her right shoulder and bits of her round firm breasts. It was a view many would kill for.

I nodded and replied, “I’m going to call 911. What should I tell them happened? Is there anyone else I should call?”

She seethed a bit. “T-Tell them I was in a motorcycle accident and broke my leg. As for anyone else, don’t worry about that for now.” I started to walk into the kitchen to grab my phone as she continued, “My roommate is out of town for break and no one is expecting me tonight or tomorrow. I was just out running some errands.”

The implication stopped me in my tracks. Here was Ji-Yoo Park, lying injured in my house, on a dark night with no witnesses, no phone to track her, and no one who will notice if she were to disappear. My mind flashed to those dreams for a moment. I could see her naked body, I could feel her warmth, and I could taste her dying blood in my mouth. My dick sprang to full mast.

Ji-Yoo must have noticed something because she asked me, “Something the matter?”

I nervously played it off, “No, I just forgot where my phone was for a second. I think I left it in my room.”

I made my way into the bedroom and reached under my bed for my flashlight, a pair of handcuffs that a security guard gave me as a souvenir, and of course, the hunting knife. I slipped them in my pockets. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to do this, but I had come too close not to resist fate.

I came back out, and awkwardly sputtered, “Dammit! It must be in the kitchen!”

I made my way over, Ji-Yoo’s eyes tracking me as I went. She noticed something on the counter separating us: my half-finished wooden bust of the Virgin Mary.

“Oooh!” she gasped. “That’s beautiful! Are you making that?”

I felt my blood pressure spike, my cheeks turning red as I received my first compliment for my artwork aside from Katie. I grabbed my phone. “Y-Yes,” I stuttered anxiously, looking away from her and wishing this nightmare would end. “I’ve b-been working on it for a few w-weeks now.”

The Earth stood still as I heard Ji-Yoo’s voice seductively coo, “Wow, you really know how to cut a woman’s head!”

It was in that moment I snapped. Over two months of repression and agony all welled up at once, my heart began to beat faster than it ever had before, and a shot of adrenaline coursed through me. In one swift motion, I sprang into action, leaping the counter and landing on the couch, flashlight in one hand and handcuffs in the other. As Ji-Yoo started to react, her eyes widening and mouth twisting in fear, I reared back the flashlight to swing at her forehead, causing her to scream and raise her arms to defend her face. I took immediate advantage of the situation by dropping the flashlight and grabbing her by the wrists, allowing me to get the cuffs around her left arm, force both of her arms behind her back, and then cuff them together. Finally I put my weight on her hips to hold her down flat on her back, and with her unable to fight, I lifted the knife out of my pocket to take what was rightfully mine.

I started by cutting her jacket. At first, Ji-Yoo protested, pleading with me not to hurt her, but as the Bowie knife reached her collar, all she could do was whimper garbled gibberish as tears streamed down her face. I thought about shoving the knife into her eyes then and there, but I wanted to make sure she had all her senses to experience what was about to happen. With the jacket cut right down the middle, I placed the knife down on the ottoman and let my hands go wild, feeling her hourglass curves, smooth stomach, and soft supple breasts. I reached for the knife again, this time to cut the rest of her jacket and shirt off, leaving behind only a tattered section of her Fairfield University t-shirt that ran around her upper body from her collar to just above her breasts. I then lifted her upper body by the hair and forced her to sit up, evoking a yell of pain from her. I grabbed her back and held her chest to mine, feeling her tits squish against me, yearning for me to free them from the tyranny of her bra. It took me a few tries, but eventually I was able to get the knife underneath her bra-strap and pulled on it, snapping it in half. I then let go of Ji-Yoo, causing her upper body to fall right back to the couch. I stooped down and began licking her breast, sucking on it like it was my own mother’s. The ravenous nursing elicited a mixture of cries and moans from Ji-Yoo, her mind utterly terrified but her body stimulated in just the right way. She tried to speak a few times, but the cocktail of emotions overwhelmed her. Not that I was going to listen anyway.

Once I was done savoring the sweet and salty tastes of Ji-Yoo’s tits, my attention turned to her face. Looking at her, I so desperately wanted to liberate her head from its body, however, I had other business to attend to first.

To conduct this business properly, I took the knife into my hand and looked Ji-Yoo in the eyes. I brandished the blade and said very intently, “I am going to get off of you so I can enjoy the rest of what you have to offer. If you make even a single move to escape, I will shove this blade into your fucking throat. Do you understand me?”

“Y-Yes,” Ji-Yoo sputtered.

I raised my voice, “I said ‘Do you understand me?’ whore!!”

“Yes!” Ji-Yoo cried, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Good, good,” I replied, slowly taking my weight off of Ji-Yoo and waiting for her to make some sort of move. Fortunately, I think her broken leg prevented that, because even if she got the element of surprise, I’d be able to easily catch up and skewer her through the jugular. Satisfied in my complete control, I grabbed Ji-Yoo and positioned her around the L-bend of the sectional so her legs were folded against the pillows and her head hung off the cushions, which were supporting her neck. Still on her back, I had a perfect view of her neck, chest and legs. I took off my clothes and approached her, placing my erection up to her lips and holding the knife to her neck. She understood the assignment: suck my cock; don’t bite or I will slit her throat. If only she knew what the next exercises would be.

I thrust forward.

Ji-Yoo’s mouth was nearly everything I hoped it would be: warm, moist, and lined with soft tissue for my dick to explore. The only thing that was missing was the enthusiastic tonguework one would expect out of a gorgeous Korean grad student, but we don’t get everything we want I suppose. I started with an exploratory insertion, testing the depths of the beauty in front of me, watching her throat bulge as my cock lodged itself deeper within. I heard Ji-Yoo gasp, her lungs struggling for air but not completely cut off from her supply of oxygen. Once I had scouted the area, I pulled back and began rhythmically fucking Ji-Yoo’s maw, ravaging her windpipe for all it was worth. Since Ji-Yoo was upside down, I had trouble seeing her face, but on the intermittent glimpses I got, I saw her eyes closed and her makeup running. “Good,” I thought, “You look even more beautiful without it.” But while her face told a story of pain and suffering, her breasts told me a completely different tale, swaying back and forth as if it was their duty to please me. Eventually, I found that by going really fast, I could reach an almost resonant frequency with them, causing her mounds to slosh back and forth in hypnotic waves synced to the rhythm of “gawk gawk gawk” as I glided in and out of her throat. I watched them like that for about ten minutes, hard as a rock but not quite yet able to cum. Eventually, even this unrivaled display of beauty began to grow a bit stale. So, I pulled back, leaning forward so my finger could dab some blood from one of Ji-Yoo’s cuts, and once I had enough I thrust back in as far as I could and used the blood to mark where the tip of my cock was buried. Prime information for later.

I withdrew from Ji-Yoo’s mouth and heard her gasp for air. A bit tired myself, I let her come back to her senses a bit while I took a moment to listen for anything that might indicate trouble. Hearing none, I took stock of the living room. It wasn’t in too bad of a shape, but I was going to have a looooooong day of cleanup ahead of me. Oh well, no one said that things in life come free. Finally, I looked at Ji-Yoo. She was injured, battered, and in some sort of psychological shock; her face blank and eyes unfocused. She was mentally trying to be anywhere but here. I felt kinda bad for her. Even if I let her go now, she’d have a long life of trauma ahead of her. Thinking about it though, the idea of using a girl as a cock sleeve and breaking her for life was exciting in a sick and twisted way, but that would take an immense amount of planning to get away with, and I hadn’t done that here.

It was time for the main event to begin. I approached Ji-Yoo from the side, ripping off that last bit of her shirt as I grabbed her and moved her back around the L-bend so she was laying flat on her back again. Then I went to her legs and got myself between them as she groaned from her broken bones being roughly handled, starting her fountain of tears once again. I got to work with my knife, cutting a line along the front of her jeans. Once the fabric was open enough, I pulled the clothing off of her, getting her socks and shoes off as well in the process. Now before me was a pair of satin pink and white panties, the last thing separating me from Ji-Yoo Park’s nubile ass and pussy. I brought the knife to the undergarments, carefully lifted them off her skin, and cut them clean off her body. I took a moment to admire them. Not even in my wettest dreams was she this perfectly shaped and inviting. To make sure I could experience this moment in all of its glory, I reached for the ottoman and pulled it towards us, allowing me to shift Ji-Yoo a bit away from the back of the couch. I parted her legs, entranced by the perfect curve of her ass, and brought myself down to kiss it. First the left cheek, then the right, then a faint kiss with my lips just hovering over her luscious asshole. I thought about grabbing some lube and fucking it, but I knew I couldn’t keep this up forever. I had to keep my eye on the prize.

And so I directed my attention to Ji-Yoo’s vagina. It was neat, clean, and emanated an intoxicating aroma. I used my finger to open her lips, causing Ji-Yoo’s body to tense and her mouth to let out a gasp. Then, I began to taste her, first lapping at her slit before delving my tongue deep within her hole, eliciting a mixture of cries and moans from Ji-Yoo. I did this both to fully experience everything this Asian siren had to offer and to make sure she was properly prepared for what came next. After having my fill, I retracted my tongue, positioned my cock, and began the moment I had been waiting for.

I decided as my tip approached Ji-Yoo’s entrance that I wanted to watch her expression as my cock invaded her pussy. She looked away at first, trying to deny me the satisfaction, but as my tip eased its into her slit, her face warped into an intense mix of terror and arousal as a choked shriek exited her mouth. Satiated, I focused on my entry, slowly working my way past her folds and into her canal. Unlike with her mouth, I decided to take my exploration of Ji-Yoo’s vagina slowly and carefully, making small, gentle movements while her pelvic area adjusted itself to accommodate its new resident. As I did this I took in each curve and ridge Ji-Yoo’s pussy had to offer, savoring every little feature that made her my little plaything. And as I did that, very gradually, I began to pick up the pace, traversing her walls in a slightly different way each time. As I did this, Ji-Yoo’s breathing became heavier and her breasts once again began to wobble. They did so slowly at first, but as I sped up and more and more of her body rocked, they began bouncing as they had before. I reached out and grabbed one, feeling its urge to sway underneath my hand. Combine that with the pressure on my dick, the heat from Ji-Yoo’s snatch, and the squelching noises coming from where our pelvises met, and I was right on the edge of orgasm and immersed in heavenly bliss.

I kept my top speed up for about 15 minutes, and while I wish I could’ve stayed there and fucked her forever, I could feel within my balls that it was time. I took my hand off Ji-Yoo’s breast and momentarily slowed my thrusting down to pick up the hunting knife. I arced my back so I could keep fucking her while I held the knife to her throat, right above the blood mark.

I looked at the object of my fixation in the eyes and asked her, “Ji-Yoo, have you ever been pregnant before?”

Her eyes widened as she struggled to stay beneath the knife. She screamed, “NO! NO! PLEASE! I’M NOT READY TO BE A MOTHER! ANYTHING, PLEASE DO ANYTHING BUT THAT!!!”

“’Anything?’” I said, caught off by her choice of wording. “I can live with that.”

I removed my cock from Ji-Yoo’s pussy and moved myself forward, placing it between her round malleable tits. Ji-Yoo seemed somewhat relieved as I began to rock my hips back and forth, not realizing that I was only doing this to ensure I stayed as hard as possible while having proper leverage for what was next. It only took a moment for her to realize this though, because her face contorted in utter horror as I raised the knife in one hand, pressed her head down with the other, and brought the knife down with all the force I could muster.

The knife cut Ji-Yoo’s neck right above where I made the mark on her larynx, slicing nearly all the way through. Immediately, her entire body began convulsing underneath me, but between my weight holding her down and the handcuffs behind her back, the only thing this accomplished was making me even harder as her breasts massaged my throbbing cock. At that point, the only thing tethering her head to her body was a bit of soft tissue supporting her spinal cord, and with a quick sawing motion using a technique I developed while whittling, I was able to sever it nearly instantaneously. Acting fast, I dismounted Ji-Yoo’s shuddering corpse and grabbed her head by the hair. Blood was dripping from her neck hole, so I needed to hurry if she was going to stick around for the grand finale.

As quickly as I could, I got to the side of the couch beside Ji-Yoo’s body and held her head in front of my stomach. I looked down, both to make sure Ji-Yoo got a good view and to ensure I got this part right. With everything lined up, I pushed Ji-Yoo’s head down on my cock, entering what was left of her larynx and working my way up through her throat. Once I was securely inside, I began thrusting, complementing every upward motion of my hips with a downward push of Ji-Yoo’s head so I could experience her to the fullest extent. One thrust, two thrusts, three thrusts. Her tongue was tickling my dick, bringing me ever closer to the edge. Finally, on the fourth thrust, it happened. Months of intrusive thoughts, sexual repression, and bending my life out of shape for the sake of this black-haired bitch finally paid off. A shockwave rippled from my balls, ripples echoing out, carrying waves of bliss to every cell in my body. It was as if fucking a Korean girl’s dying severed head was the secret to getting your brain to release every molecule of dopamine all at once. Nothing in my dreams could have prepared me for the orgasm I had. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the pleasure, before opening them again to see Ji-Yoo’s decapitated head dutifully moving up and down my cock as barrages of cum plastered her lifeless body. Finally, it had been done.

By the time I was done pleasuring myself with her, Ji-Yoo was long-dead, her jaw slack and her eyes wide. A look of fear was still visible within them. I painted her cheeks with the last of my cum as well as whatever of her juices still clung to my cock. I then held her head up to mine, closed my eyes, and gave her a kiss, tasting the night’s culmination of spit, blood, and tears on her warm, cherry-sweet lips. After making out with her, I pulled back, opening my eyes, smiled with a mix of lust, relief, and the faintest twinge of regret and said, “Thanks for the fun. Sorry it had to be you.”

Then, feeling exhausted from my busy night, I curled up on the couch, hugging Ji-Yoo’s cooling body. I quickly fell asleep, dreamless for the first time since that fated day, though I did wake up a few times throughout the night. I used those opportunities to go a couple extra rounds with Ji-Yoo’s tight asshole and her body’s blood-slicked neck stump. Each of her orifices felt amazing, but none of it came close to that singular moment in time.

The next morning, I went through my cleanup, first hacking the body apart and bagging it alongside the smaller debris from her bike crash. Right after, I threw it all in my truck along with her motorcycle and hid it with the bed cover while I heavily cleaned up the living room. Finally, I drove about as far as I could while avoiding traffic cameras, ending up at an abandoned mine. I risked life and limb to do it, but I managed to get all the evidence, hunting knife included, down that hole by the end of the day. Once I got back home, I placed an online order for a pocket knife. I wanted something smaller, something subdued, something I could express myself through whittling with without instantly reminding myself of what I had done.

A few hours later, Ji-Yoo Park was reported missing. For the rest of the Thanksgiving break, Fairfield and the surrounding area were swarming with police cruisers, search dogs, and helicopters. Late in the ground search, they narrowed her last known location down to an intersection not too far from the entrance to the forest my house was in, but that’s still a large search area, and by the time they figured that out, the case was going cold as supporting police departments went home. The local PD tried to finish the search, but the most I ever saw was a police car slowly drive by my house with searchlights on and nothing to find.

Fairfield University was a very different place when Thanksgiving break ended. Counselors were brought in, security was tightened up, and a volunteer search team was formed among some of the older students, chief among them my friend Katie who had grown close to Ji-Yoo over the Fall. During this time, I did everything I could to support Katie, both because she’s my friend and as a penance to Ji-Yoo, who obviously couldn’t be there to support her. Soon, we began dating and fell deeply in love.

Before we knew it, Valentine’s Day had arrived. We spent the night at my house on the sectional, binge-watching episodes of The First 48. We were laid across the couch, her as the little spoon and me as the big one, with my head on top of hers so I could see. After a while, Katie got up to use the bathroom, and when she got back, we contorted ourselves back to optimal TV-watching position. Once I was situated, I redirected my attention to the TV. They were showing an ad for the local outdoors show. The camera showed a knife case at a stand labelled “The Lost and Foundry”, inside which I saw a familiar-looking purple-and-black rubber-hilted hunting knife with an equally familiar glint. In an instant, that entire night rushed through my head as a smile crossed my face. The screen then went black for a second and I could see our faces reflected back at us. Katie was smiling too.