Character 1
Name: Mr. Reeds
Age: 32
Description: See Pic(A)

Character 2
Name: Carlos
Age: 10
Description: B

Character 3
Name: Anthony
Age: 10
Description: C

Character 4
Name: Michael
Age: 10
Description: D

Character 5
Name: Samantha
Age: 9
Description: E

Character 6
Name: Amy
Age: 10
Description: F

Character 7
Name: Stephanie
Age: 9
Description: G

Character 8
Name: Jana
Age: 10
Description: H

Character 9
Name: Amanda
Age: 10
Description: I

Type of Death: Massacre
Scenario: A sex 101 class—an extracurricular course geared towards teaching youths who may want a career in the adult industry all about sex—is the target of a school shooter.

—


I celebrated my twelfth birthday yesterday. Today, I am going to die. Strolling, head down, through the woods, less than a hundred meters from the gate they sent me through, I’m still processing this fact. Springdale Junior High lost the football game, so my cheerleading squad was required to select a girl to be hunted and killed by players from the opposing team; I am the unfortunate girl they selected. Just minutes ago, they shoved me through the gate, to run and hide. I have, or had, thirty minutes before the hunters can come after me. I guess now I probably have about fifteen, given the slow rate at which I’m walking.

I don’t bother walking far. Many girls run and put in great effort to hide, but I know it’s pointless. This is less a hunt, and more of an execution with running. I’m going to die regardless, as I’m surrounded on all sides by an electric fence five meters high; if I manage to escape, they will hunt me down, along with my family, and execute us all on live television. Running only delays the inevitable. This is what I agreed to when I signed up to be a cheerleader; though, considering the history of my school’s football team, I never expected to be required to live up to this particular agreement.

After taking one final glance over my shoulder, seeing that the gate is no longer in view, and scurry behind a tree. I lift my uniform—a black and orange dress with “Rabbits” stiched over the chest, adding a sense of irony to my situation—over my hips; I shiver at the cold breeze brushing my smooth pussy, having left my panties near the entrance. I sit, back against the tree, sighing in response to the gentle coolness of the soil against my ass. I lift my dress again, placing my two of my fingers between my slit, and begin masturbating.

I rub slit gently for several minutes. Soft moans begin emanating through the trees as I lose myself in the moment, and I barely register the horn bellowing in the distance. Knowing that was the signal for the hunters to seek me out, I plunge my middle finger into my hole and start fucking myself, while I two fingers on my other hand to frantically rub my pussy. My moaning becomes louder, my breathing heavy and rhythmic. I know they’re going to hear me, but I only care about cumming one last time. This single purpose keeps the fear, and the numerous regrets of everything I will never be able to do with my life tragically cut short. In some ways, as I sit there rubbing one out, knowing my demise draws near is bringing my arousal to new, previously unexplored, levels. I can think of no better way to go out, unless the boy who finds me gives me my first, and last, experience with a cock, before I’m dead meat. Considering the competition among the hunters to get the kill first, I know this is unlikely. Even the knowledge that I may die without ever getting to make love to someone, though rather depressing, is contributing to my arousal.

Hardly any time passes before I hear one of the hunters approaching my hiding spot. The sound is barely audible amidst my loud moaning, and the squishing of my fingers in my pussy, there is no mistaking the footsteps, moving down the path.

“I’m over here… ahhhh… but please allow me to finish… fapping before you kill me.” I scream.

The footsteps move closer, until a boy, who I guess is around fourteen years-old, with an athletic build, and short, blond, hair, emerges from around the tree. He’s sporting a camo jacket and jeans, and armed with a Remington 7600.

“You’re really going at it over here,” he says, and laughs as he raises the gun.

“Please let me finish… OH MY GOD!” I start rubbing and fingering myself faster as he continues approaching, gun aimed towards my head. “PLEASE! LET ME FINISH! I’M REALLY CLOSE! Maybe… ohhhh… you could pop my cherry for me… before I die… don’t wanna die a virgin.”

“Sorry about that,” he replies and shoves the gun into my mouth, muffling my excessive moaning, “I have a girlfriend that I’m quite loyal to. But, I’m feeling generous. You got ten seconds, then you’re dead.” He begins to count down.

I begin moving my pelvis back and forth in concordance with my fingers, while dragging my asshole along the ground. The hunter reaches four seconds. I clench my thighs together, and begin to imagine the gun in my mouth is his penis. My orgasm begins to blossom as the hunter says zero, and BANG!

A hole tears open in the back of my head, spraying chunks of brain and skull all over the tree behind me in a crimson explosion. Everything fades to black for me, as my consciousness, thoughts, and memories, are obliterated from existence.

He removes the gun from my mouth, steam rising from the barrel, as my body slumps forward. Blood trickles from my mouth, pooling into a puddle between my legs. Beneath my uniform dress, I piss and shit in the dirt, courtesy of my relaxing body.