Goth's Hungry Pussy Putrefaction


Written by Septia.


Morning came as any other day. The hum of yesterday was still hazy in Iyad's mind as he stared up at the ceiling. Soreness laid pronounced at his crotch, were even the weight of the blanket tensed the blood fuelled organ. Yesterday had been… a lot. 
	“Mmm, barely believe you were just another bimbo yesterday…” 
	Iyad peeled up at the noise, and turned to his side, next to him laid Morgue.Her back propped up with both of their pillows, and she was caressing the dome that jutted out of her middle, peeking up from under the blanket as a hill of contorted, pale flesh. Her fingers trailed along the contours of Vim's spine, the other down her arm, pinned and taut to the side, though lopsided, it came up to her shoulder. 

“Momo?” 
	“Morning, Yaya,” she then paused, brushing fingers feathering along her belly as the word drew out in a yawn. “You recovered after last night, with our, baby girl?” 
	It took a moment to answer. “Is she…?” 
	The answer cut through the facade of normalcy in a curt, blunt, “Dead.” 
	Iyad unclenched his teeth, scratching his bead. He hadn't even realised they were tensed. 
	“Think she passed during our sacrilege last night, or short after, mind was a bit fuzzy. But not as much as her,” she mumbled and took in a deep breath, the hill of her gut rising, the contours grew defined under the pressure of her lungs. “My belly is a coffin.” 
	Iyad hummed, scooting closer, bed cratering around their combined weight. “A sarcophagus.” 
	“Pss you flirt. Yeah, she wishes, won't be preserved that well inside there. She'll have a lot to go through… Right now, guess she's most like a mummy… He, babe?” she mused, and guided his hand up to her gut, along her breasts, and down to where the bulge of Vim's bottom began. Iyad's eyebrow furrowed. The right side of his hand rested against Morgue's chest, the warm, plush orb budging against him, pliant like batter and weighty of meat, but Vim's rump took up the left of the palm. It was hard, like marshmallows  left to dry in the air – stills some give to it, but in comparison to a person, it felt like holding a hunk of granite. He let his hand trail down along the silhouette, stuffed, crackled glue, wrapped in a suit of his girlfriend's smooth silken skin.
	“Rigor mortis, she's been getting stiff as a branch.” 
	“Real, stiff, huh? Guess in the end, we all go stiff in death. Means we are all really necrophiliacs, soon right after we die our whole body is erect.” 
	“Means her heart's stopped, and without a heart, there's nothing to ferry all that blood inside her…” Morgue mused, shuddering as Iyad explored her abdomen, pressing down along the stiff crevices. “Without that, blood just sits there, in the cold, it coagulates, grows thicker than a pound cake,” she turned to him and mused, “Her blood becomes jelly, and ironically, it stuffs her solid.” 
	Iyad held back from speaking, just taking in the contores of her body, feeling the light -Shrlp- of fluid within as his knuckle kneaded in on the dome. “What is going to happen to her?” 
	Morgue smirked, stifling a chuckle. “If, I was a sarcophagus, we'd be long past preparing her for the long run. Instead, bitch's gonna digest herself in my womb.” 
	Iyad peered up to Morgue, who smiled down at him, a twinkle of her fang glinting in her smile. “Heart's not the only thing that stops, listen,” she said, guiding his head to her belly, ear against the bulge, resting against Vim… or, what had been Vim, just yesterday. “Can you hear it?” 
	“Can't, not say I heard anything.” 
	“That's cus she's not breathing.” Each word carried in a pleasant roll of amusement as well as fascination. “And no breathing, means no outlet for carbon dioxide, so it builds, and builds, percolating, together. Her body's going to have all that CO2 trapped within her. Taints our ‘lil girl in acidity, from the inside out. That's a whole bioscape of acid distilling within her, wearing down cell membrane, compromising her own flesh's delicate balance. And when the cells in her gut decay, they release enzymes. Pheh, Her pancreas especially: a ticking time bomb of brewed up acids. Whenever it gets worn down, it takes the rest with it. And her body, digests itself…” She brushed back over his hair. “Autolysis,” she presented, “it hasn't quite started yet. I feel her ‘lil doll thighs pursed against my womb, and her tits are like a pair of flour sacks. Honestly, feels like I'm stuffed with a wax replica. But it won't last, we just need to give newbie brat another day or so, and she'll be right into pasteurizing herself in my pussy,” she said with a swat at her abdomen. 
	Morgue stretched her arms above her head and yawned, Iyad meeting her mouth as it closed for a kiss. “It is gruesome, isn't it?” 
	“Oh, very, and I'm gonna feel it all happen… But, doesn't mean I'm gonna laze about doing so in bed.” she said, peeled off the blanket, and shuffled off onto the floor. But as soon as she stood, 
“Uurnngh-” Her body tilted forwards, sponsoring herself on the nightstand and knocking into the snake jar, the person occupied her gut vying for her center of gravity. 
	“Momo, hold on,” Iyad said, rushing to her side, holding her until she could straighten herself to a stand. “Damn… bitch's heavy… breath caught in her throat.” 
	“Your weight doubled over one night, Momo. She is not gonna let you forget that, better ease into it.” 
	Morgue clicked her lips. “Tsk, doubled, that's being too generous to this brat.” She sighed and draped her arms down her gut as it made a hissing, contorted gurgle -Vrrghrllgsh-. “Pha… here I was complaining about tits killing my back, this chick's gonna drag me down with her at this rate…” Her stomach drooped with a turgid drag of tautened skin and displaced organs -Chhtwwwglgsh-. “Yeah, just dump ‘em off at the couch so it feels like I'm doing something,” she said as they walked out of the room’s threshold as a couple -Chrllprgh-. 
	Morgue stepped over the threshold into the living room, a faint bob of her abdomen gave a slosh hampered by elastics -Shsh-twwng- -Sgl-btwng-. 
	She peered through the room, fingers drumming on the tip of her gut, tapping away at Vim's rear beneath her skin. “Babe?” 

Iyad stepped out from the kitchen. “Do you need a hand with the maternity belt, again?” 
	Morgue brushed down her gut, fingers trailing over the black lace woven fabric cupping the lower half of her gut, holstering the bulk weighing down her gut, supporting and dispersing the weight. “I got it so It's not that, got it sitting comfortably since yesterday,” she punctuated her statement by snapping one of the suspenders that spanned from her lower gut up over her shoulders. “Though these things make me feel like an accessory.” 
	“Definitely, I could holster you up behind me like a backpack with those, my own Gothic inspired, all natural knapsack,” Iyad said with a caress of her cheek.
	“You big dork,” she mumbled and dove in for another kiss, her gut brushing up above his crotch -Ghrbglgpsh- A distinctly moister squelch rippled form the gut plying into his body. 
	“It's starting, think her enzymes broke~.” 
	At first Iyad showed confusion, then he snapped his fingers. “Pancreas?” 
	“Like a birth in reverse, feel it…” she hummed, threading his arms down to her torso, up over the pregnancy girdle and onto her skin. Roaming over the pillaging domes of her arms and back: his palms sloped along the silhouette, the acids broke. smoother, with ever so slightly more give to the touch under his fingertips. 
	Morgue's voice peaked into a near giddy frequency of her melodic base voice. “That oily sensation? Touch? That's fatty sleek oils. Enzymes eating through her body, brewing under her skin, separating fats into solvents. Skin would be glistening by now… a sheen over her stiff meat slowly turning disscolorued into a ghoulish green, maybe,” she grappled his waist, inhaled and quickly brushed it up onto the window in the girdle, holding his palm to a faint bump. “Some places, it gathers up in boils… too many bratty juices to secrete in one tiny spec of real estate, I've felt it grow over the past hour… I really feel… everything,” she mused. 
	Iyad held her closer. 
	“So, does that mean you feel this?” he said, gently jabbing this thumb at the zenith of the boil, pushing it inwards. He felt the surface beneath her skin buckle like a stress toy to the tune of a flute submerged in a toy -Swplglrprlrth-. Morgue sucked in a breath through her teeth, digits raking a hold of his arms. “You big tease…” 
	“Is that like me? To stop at just teasing, when I see you certainly could use help in working out that gut of yours?” 
	“Smooth jerk…,” she mumbled, as they vacated to the couch, clothes landing around them. Morgue saddling up against Iyad's lap, milling her abdomen into the rising bulge within. Then…
 from the heightened lust and sensitivity, he felt a motion, surging through the gut, down his manhood. Tiny, but persistent. “Momo, wait…” 
	She scoffed, massaging into his shoulders, “Why? This better be good…”
	Iyad brushed down the length of her belly, focusing, closing his eyes. -Scrlp- He felt it. A light, soft movement. A squirm in miniature. “Something is inside…” 
	“Ph, hubby, that'd be the maggots.” 
	“What?” 
	“Corpse maggots,” she said, cradling her belly, “curing flesh attracts all sorts of pests, beneficial and parasites. Must have gotten in that first night, ‘lil buggers smelled the meat past its expiration date and came darting. They are still tiny, my ‘lil litter of critters. But they'll grow,” she said with a smile, brushing along her gut. The black painted nails trailing along the outlines pinned to her skin in a few areas, showing a faint wriggle just beneath the surface. “Vim's not the only one eating herself, that's the beauty of it. In my cradle of life,   congested death, will now host new life. . It is just… art.” Her brow folded in rumination, then smoothed to a delighted grimace, a shudder passing through her body, as if she harboured a most taboo of thoughts… Then, she mumbeled “Too bad she was a virgin.” 
	She looked down at Iyad, still silently caressing. “Come now… if this was a turn off, then why's your dick twitching at the squirms of my ‘lil maggots?” she mused and ground her gut against his shaft, tingles of the squirms rippling through his mast, down his spine. 
	Iyad sunk his head in between Morgue's breasts and kissed her chest. “You read me like a book.” 
	She smirked and ground her pussy back over his cock, “and you pound me like a dictionary…” 
	“Hmmm?” 
	Morgue scoffed. “What? I didn't have sex toys as a teen,” she mused and let her pussy devour his cock, grinding her half-meter wide gut into him as the house filled with moans. 


Cradled in each others arms, panting, “Momo?” 
	“Mgms yeah. Hubby? Can you stoke the forge a bit longer?” 
	“You know this maternity belt won't do in the long run.” 
	“Hmm?” 
	“Too reliant on it too long, won't do your body good. You still need it, still necessary, but you have to make your own body stronger.” 
	“You tell me to work out?” 
	“Bolster your core, ensure you can carry this as long as you desire. And, you could see it as a warm up, for our sessions.” 
	She bit her lip. “Jerk, guess I knew it would come to that.  Still have some ways to go on this  journey with dear our dear, bumming brat.” 


~ 1 ~


“… And, three. Four… five… six…” Morgue counted on her training, raising up her thigh in a heel plank, accompanied by a lurid -Cgrhfllllrsh- churn of sloppy tension. 
	Iyad stepped through the front door. It was a strange few days going back to HR work after this, intense, weekend. But halfway through the week, the hum of a routine had begun to pick back up. He hung up his coat and called out,  “Momo, what do you think about pancakes for todaaoow…” He stopped himself as he came to the legroom, and Morgue was working out in the middle. 
	A gaseous, humid growl and contraction vibrated out of the grotesquely wide abdomen. While Morgue went through her motions the belly dipped onto the floor, sloughing out of her side like a water skin guzzled full from a hose. Pencil-thin stretchmarks in a deep fuchsia dressed the sides of the abdomen as Morgue shifted around her bean bag sized gut. Back onto her knees she moved into the Cat-to-cow pose, on all fours staring down at her gut, to the point where her stomach filled in the negative space from her frame down to the floor. Then she arched her back, smushing the billowing drove down into the ground, letting it slough as though sitting on a bellows jammed full of mozzarella -Shhbtwwwnp-Pllrrguurshh-. Ripples and shudders spiralling up her bowl of a gut, unleashed from the mittle. That's when she saw him. “Yaya, babe, you mfmpsha,” she said, going back to the cow pose, with a grumble of clotted carbonation rummaging through her tits before compressing with a sloughing wheeze once more. “You are home, that's, a relief. Think I need a new belly pregnancy belt, other's getting tight.” 
	“Momo, is this?” he said joining her side. 
	“Perfectly, normal, don't worry your mfms, four, little gnog about it… Pha… remember what I said mfm, bout enzymes, and, carbon dioxide? MMmpf, it feeds into itself, more and more, cooking through her own tissue… and whatever else in the inside. And like a shut pressure cooker, where mfms, do you think all that, sphaa, stewing, gas is gonna go?” she paused her workout, panting as she slouched down on her gut -Slflpshgha- A squelch reverberated within, and from its sprawling ripples Iyad saw trails of worming lumps, patches of tangles slathering below her skin before submerging back into it once more. “The body swell, mmf, eas, can easily get up to twice their original size… Well it was good that you got me on this workout…” she mumbled out and caressed her abdomen, breath picking up as she swept sweat off of her brow. 
	She kept training, each compressing sandwiching her gut into the mat and rousing gruelling gurgles throughout the soggy space -Chsgllpth-. Moving closer, Iyad, could feel the lump of Vim's arm, still there, just, distorted, swollen, piled up like the rest of her form. A meat balloon in the faded silhouette of her form, but still there, now plagued with the squirms and wriggling roam of maggots swarming beneath the surface, chewing clutters of plump lard soaked bodies invoking images of carbonate and saucy macaroni. They worbled under where he rested his palm, brushing them in, their movement quaking up his arm. “Thought it was getting bigger, but felt hadn't forethought about it.”
	“That's typical guy stuff, don't worry about. I, wasn't sure you'd even notice now, despite me being a blimp, f ms, fourteen ,” she groaned.  
	Iyad's expression wavered, then curled. “A blimp whose nearly done with her warm-up.” 
	She looked back, and grinned. “Was hoping to be done by the same time you got home, just be careful not to choke under this gut, fifteen…” eyelids narrowed, tongue swept across her lips, she was worked up, ravenous. Considering her womb was getting such a workout already, Iyad stripped off his pants before she'd have a chance to rear them off of him. “You are right, I better warm up myself on this, convent yoga ball,” he mused, and hoisted her cheeks up, leaning against her gut for support as his dick sought out that plush labia: “Fmmfs, ahaa, Iyad, one thing.” 
	He paused. “Yes, Morgue?” 
	“Don't go too deep, but don't hold back…” 


~ 2 ~


Earthquakes tore through the marshlands. Roars of canyons tearing through the landscape in muddled slobber of a snapping turtle demolishing a calzone -Krrghtltph- -Trrkcllshhst-. The greenery jiggling in the rhythm of the passing quakes, under the roaring roils of pale white bloat fly maggots were snaking through the verdant tissue. Somewhere far in the distance, the chorus of moans performed by lovers dominated the airspace, but that was another world. Here laid not in the depths, laid not by spoiling meat, putrefaction, and the corpse worms who feasted on banquets of boiled, partially dissolved organs. the liver laid in runs tattered under the ruins of Vim's rib cage, the binding tissue separating bone from muscles, dissolving in great patches, exposing a slurry of calcium to the sewage-scape that had been a body. Boils of clotted fat lard seared out by the maggots, competing bands of bloatflies and houseflies gnawing through the brawn. And all around it laid cloaked in billowing fog banks of nitrate from the mired meat, seeping into meat and oozing out elsewhere in a circulation of heat and decay. Toward's Vim's chest, reigned a congregation of maggots, boring through the walls of her lungs. The chambers of her heart oscillated in a false beat from the squirming carpet of an infestation carving her out from within. Further away from the guts, deeper down. 
	An ecosystem evolved beneath Vim's bloated skin, outside, the hue was shifting, a lack of oxygen as every last reservouire was empried  causing purple to bleed into the verdant hues of zombi-green flesh. 
	Her head laid at the bottom, close to the tightly sealed cervix. Her husk jostled, to and fro, rocking mired and bobbing in a bile of purple pooling to the womb's nadir, preserving her eyes under the opaque gunk of her own dissolving body fats, star pupils glare at the rumbles of the cervix. The virgin body locked in place, forced to experience her own sarcophagus savour not only the lust, but her own sacrifice, reduced to an aphrodisiac in their act.


Iyad gazed into the longing cyan of Morgue's eyes, she gyrated her frame onto him, labial walls clenching and milking the fruits of his orgasm, slopping and squeaking -schwlrlprsh- to the slathered of lust. Iyad was huffing through gritted teeth as the gluttonous pussy milked its fill. But even in the afterglow, even with the training mat stained below them, he kept massaging into her, dipping his dick deeper, and deeper. “Mmf, hubby…” She moaned, but this relief of pressure, proved too much, as his dick kept beating down on the floor to the gate of her womb… forthwith- -Thwpthsp- Pwtthwtlp- for a moment… it opened. 
	-Shflwptch-. 
	Iyad's eyes snapped open, in one moment the warm pussy grew infected by a chill, a long, exhale of moisture. The effect, a remnant from Vim… he felt her ghostly breath gum over his dick, clog the musk and sweat under a tang of death, even smelling the reek of garum and maple twisted to a noxious breath. His spine assaulted by a jolt of this icy clutch while it still reverberated in raw pleasure, and just layed there, soaking it in. 
	“Phaa. Told you, dummy. Trying to, eep my that shut. That gas is, building, festering something fierce. I'd say Vim's funk just about rivals your locker rpom.” 
	“Mmphh. Yeah, certain brings back some memories… but hoo, that stench…” 
	“Mmfm, yeah,” she moaned out and withdrew herself, letting his dick tobbaggon out of her as she rolled back onto the couch, caressing her swimming gut in stirrings. “Much as I want to keep it, sealed,” she patted her gut which reverberated to the tune of an overinflated truck tire -Gbtddnk- “she's making more gas than a bunker platoon on chilli night,” she complained, caressing her gut, “and also to avoid… coffin birth.” 
	“That, would be a chore to clean up, I imagine?” 
	“Yeah, yeah, gonna air her out some. But there's no way I was missing out on blimp sex… Besides, It'll get worse.” 
	“Oh, worse than the smell of death you claim?” 
	It was with dripping smugness she mused to him. “Heard of butyric fermentation? Similar maturation happens in dairy, concentrated vapors and enzymes mauling through the clots of fat and meat in a concentrated cement, curdling… Our own ‘lil Vim, putrefying into human cheese,” she chuckled and waddled to stand, cupping her broad gut. “Don't mind me, while I air out this cheesy bitch,” she said with a flick of her braids, sauntering on shaking, cum drooled legs as she waddled to their balcony. “Vim's got one last message to share with the world,” seating herself in the lawn chair staring out into the early autumn as Iyad shut the door behind her. 
	Her legs spread, hoisting her hind up in the air, gut bobbing at her chest, bun bulges closing in on the girth of Morgue's chest. And after a few breaths, she unleashed the pressure. Even through the closed door, Iyad could hear the droning bellow escaping Morgue's pussy. 
	-Pphhrrthoooooooorpfht-. 
	A horn of rippling, squealing wheezes of air, whistling through the flutter of her flaps, the air drenched in a fine mist of maggot infested putrefaction. And even through the walls, picked up the rancid undertone of fish chumb marinated in the brine of pickled mushrooms. The howl, almost haunting, in its boisterous bellow. Iyad watched his lover's satisfied countenance of relief as it howled into the night -Phooooo--. 
	

~ 3 ~


-Brhooooooooodht- The drone of the conaminated horn rippled the air all the way from the docks. Iyad shook his head at the sound, reminiscing of that night just a few weeks ago: Retuning to the menu of the dockside restaurant. He considered his options together with Morgue. 
	-Ghbrhg-Thshlff- The crunch and clatter of her gut -Cllsthta- -Clsth, laid dampened under Morgue's layers of clothing. But, it was there. She peered up to him with a smile, and offered to take his hand. She lead his hand under the table, under her shirt, against the girdle. He felt the chugs and churns underneath, of protruding knobs packed taut in the droplet of sagging belly pudge. Vim's whole being collapsed to the space of a beach ball, ten meat clad bones cluttered in a sea of blackened bile of squirms and buzz. 
	Iyad kneaded along the gut, -Clslptht- within the body, massaging in the zones of pressure along her abdomen, feeling the tattered slop and dregs that had once worked, and laughed within himself… 
	“How kind of the bitch to join us for dinner. Clotting to cheese bile has really done a number on her personality.” 
	“She would not have been able to without such an expert taxodermist hosting her,” she said before they kissed. 
	The waiter deciding to give them a few more minutes to decide. 
	“Hubby, it still feels, so hot… I’m think of it… My uterus, a tomb of life, a sea, so clogged in fertilizer, that noting can grow.” 
	“And no one wears it better. Come to think of it, I did, have a thought about a couple's costume for the holidays.” 
	Morgue smacked her lips, curious. “Oh?” 


~ 4 ~


“What is that?” Called a costumed face threading down the streets on this most dark of nights. 
	Morgue and Iyad were walking up the pavement hand in hand. Iyad donned in a ceremonial mask of silver and copper, with his body wrapped in rags. And Morgue, with her head looming out from a plasticard sarcophagus, stretching down the length of her body, a plasticard fashioned urn placed in line with her belly, its front opened with a plastic pane to see the dark outlines of a sloughing, shifting collection of bones. 
	Morgue scoffed, “Someone failed their Egyptian history class.” 
	Iyad stepped up, “Pharaohs used to be buried with the bones of their servants, gaze up, do they not as well deserve to celebrate this most haunted of nights?” 
	The costumed stranger lingered their eyes on their costumes for a bit. Then shrugged. “Whatever, cool I guess.” And walked on. 
	Morgue mumbled, “Uncultured brat.” 
	“The costume is not for them, my dearest tomb.” 
	Our journey bears us to a celebration most mature, who are sure to admire you.” 
	She scoffed at this, but soon whispered, “But none who admires it in a more mature way than you, isn't that right, Pharaoooh?” 


~ 5 ~


“Ooooh, gnn gosh oomp. Oooo yeah, I needed suuch a break from that costume. Better stuffed than all stuffy and junfmsmfs hubby…” Morgue moaned out as Iyad hunched over her back, cradling into her belly in the cramped seclusion of the public in the bathroom stall. 
	“Interested in swapping suits? You know how sweaty those rags, mfms. If you keep it this loud someone will, they'll hear us.” 
	“Mmnfs, but if I moan even louder, we'll scare them all away.” Iyad leaned over her to steal a kiss from her drooling face, as his sacred obelisk plowed into her bountiful dunes. -Ttwhmp- -Thwtspm- -Thwwmp- The rocking humps scrambling and sloshing her sagging gut ahead, plump and drooping like an overloaded jam cloth. The thrusts careening the bloat in malformed contours; clusters of finger bones, the slum of a spine with each vertebra dragging along the crowded abdomen, and every now and then, the hollow docks of a cranium swelled out Morgue's fair skin, gaping, unhinged and crooked row of teeth hanging below it, soon deflating back in the scramble of skeletal tissue shaken up from their rut. “Mfms, phaa, hell yes hubby, mmaa, bone me harder than Vim,” she groaned out in pleasure, humping back in time with Iyad's thrusts to have her muscular core spank back into his still partially cloth-wrapped lap. 
	This stirred something in Iyad. Vim… Yes, that was Vim in there, the bones clattering and tar mucilage of her body.An inky slurry of decay interspersed with pale, cleaned bones. That was all that remained of her, and it was all her own doing, her own body passing through the stages of death, decayed into a decoration and erogenous zone for his wife. He had not thought of hearing the name again for so long. A string on his heart was tugged. Yet, the rest of them played a symphony, an orchestra together with Morgue: one dark note to uplift the whole… 
	“Mmphwaaa…” Morgue moaned out, grinding harder on him as she felt his mast throbbing with lustful ache. And Iyad reached down to get gut, massaging, driving a fist into the sensitive nest of skeletal tissue, massaging the depths of her sex whilst his dick sloughed through her vagina. The pumping cock painting her vagina pearly with his plaster, letting their lust linger and lavish in their genital union and salivate into the open toilet bowl below.
	“Mmfms mmfpwgh.” The two of them stifled their moans, breathing heavily in each other’s arms as they savored a shared climax. Perhaps not out of decency for whoever might arrive to the public bathroom a stone's throw away from the party festivities, but because this moment, this snapshot of their relationship, was something private, risky, to be shared only, by the three of them… 

~ 6 ~


“I've been thinking about the three of us,” Morgue brought up, brushing through Iyad's beard as they lazed in bed, one lazy winter evening. 
	“Hmm? Oh, I see. You think it is time to… release her?” 
	Morgue's brow furrowed. But, soon smoothed with her next sentence. “Babe, that's not it at all, thought you would have noticed.” 
	“You… want to air her out again?” 
	“And have a repeat of the 'dairy balcony ' incident? There isno way. It’s, just that it has felt, perhaps, lonely.” 
	“I… thought your stance on, that, was clear?” 
	“Babe, … Maybe less lonely, more… empty.” 
	“Momo?” Iyad asked. 
	She snickered. “Do I have to spell it out for you, again?” 
	

	“I want another girl to die in my pussy: just like last time…~”