When I was a mean little girl, much meaner than I am today. I would fantasize about trapping tiny male brats on what to me was a little rock. I would first get a bowl and fill it with water. The survivors from my last game would all scream their terrified little lungs out when they saw the water. Then I would place a rock in the center of the bowl. On that rock surrounded by water I would drop those shrunken brats.
I'd watch from above their frantic searching for an escape. Then I would reach down and flick one tiny male into the water. Of course these boys in my imagination never learned how to swim. One would paddle around faster and faster. Others I wouldn't give the luxury of a slow drowning. I reached down and squished them against their rock prison.
Just as the fast swimmer was about to take his last breath, I pluck him out of the water placing him gently back on the rock. Soon he would spurt out the water and come back to life. Then groggly at first he would start to explore the rock looking for an escape. When he would come upon his crushed male friends he would let out a tiny peep. Then the game would start again. Over and over into the water he would go only to be brought back to life.
A few had a very strong will to live so I took them off of the rock and placed them on the ground for what they must have thought was their freedom. Instead I crushed them under my shoe.
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"Keep fucking with me. I can make ur death look like auto-erotic asphyxiation." -
@TheFuckingCat