It was filling me up, my pussy was wrapping all around it tightly, squeezing it. His veins were so thick, I could feel them smoothly sliding against m... vagina walls. He was so deep yet he was still moving it. It felt like it was never ending. It was entering my stomach and it started to scare me. I reached down and put my hands on his stomach to push him back some, but he smacked my hands away. I pushed him again, yet he just smacked my hands away again. He was so deep inside of my, yet I could. The momentary lag before the self hatred kicked in allowed me to keep looking at Katherine rather than my usual want, which is to stare at the floor in shame. I couldn’t really figure out what was happening. I expected her to be embarrassed or laugh at me. Something was going to tell me her offer had been tongue-in-cheek. That wasn’t happening and my mind began to try and figure out what the more serious possibilities were. Shit, this was going to be bad. The rubber feet of Katherine’s chair. .. GONE!! You feel yourself starting to lose it, when a thought pops into your head. Didn't Clorica say tomorrow was the Spring Harvest Festival? How are you supposed to make your showcase with no vegetables?You start to panic as you drop down to your knees, sifting through the horribly mangled corpses of turnips and radishes, praying for just one survivor. Unfortunately, you had no such luck. They were all dead. You shed a tear for those who lost there lives before falling backward onto the. Three blankets are not enough… the furnace set to eighty-five cannot permeate the frigid wall that seems to enclose me. It’s as if cold tendrils of some Lovecraft-like beast is slowly draining the life from my body, willing me to be as dead as Lisa. And she is dead. Despite the fact she stands outside my bedroom window, Lisa is (no matter what the National Enquirer might like people to think) as dead as Elvis. I should know. I’m the one who killed her. I’m the one who strangled the life from.