How do you NOT want to die…and I’m not talking “alone” or “with debts unpaid”. I’m talking cringeworthy, horrid, “Michael Myers upchucked when he saw it, and Freddy Krueger just said “Duuuude!! That’s just wrong!””.
Happy Halloween!
What? You’re not going to volunteer your own sick non-preferred end? How do you expect people to write out their own Rube Goldberg-esque demises if you won’t share?
I’ll start off with an easy one: It involves a couple dozen Mentos, a diet coke enema and a buttplug.
I think my preferred gaming description for a particularly brutal critical hit works here: You pulled the orc’s entrails out through its nostrils.
Burned at the stake, eaten alive, anything involving chimps or Komodo dragons. Crushed beneath weights. Flensed, flayed or filleted. Just no.
Eaten alive by rats.
Death by water board seems extreme and horrible.
MERP?
Eaten alive by anything.
Burned alive; seriously. I have been with a VFD at times in my life trying to combat my enemy (both fire and the fear) but it still keeps me up nights every time a fatal house fire or car wreck/fire hits the news.
Yeah, no burning please.
Snu-Snu.
Being skinned alive, scalped, “crowned” with barbed wire, impaled, crucified, hanged, stoned to death, tied to planks and pushed slowly into furnaces or tanks of boiling water, rolled around naked in internally nail-studded barrels, beheaded by twisting the neck until the head can be torn off, having the lungs, throat, and mouth packed with earth.
I just finished a Pendergast novel by Preston and Child, in which a proper young lady, pursued by villainous thugs , pours a highly powerful acid on them and hears them scream as they melt, face-first, in less than a minute.
I don’t think I would like that, and I will try to avoid it.
Luxury!
Years ago I read about a man who had a very elaborate auto-arousal sex thing going that involved wearing red high heels and winching himself up in a barn so as to be anally penetrated by a horse, or something like that. (No, really! It was in Harper’s Readings). He died for reasons I no longer recall, either a winching mishap or an unfortunately timed heart attack.
Luckily I have no embarrassing activities like that one. But I’ve always been horrorstruck at the thought of dying in circumstances that would be so scandalous as to cause extra grief for one’s family. Heck, I’d be too chickenshit to have an ordinary affair, even, because I’d keep saying to myself, “What if there’s an earthquake and my lover and I are buried in rubble, naked on the bed? What would my poor darling husband think?”
Falling from a high place and ending up impaled on rebar, or an iron fence, or something.
Semi-related to that, try searching Wikipedia for “Enumclaw horse sex case.”
semi-related to that, I give you this Perry Bible Fellowship comic.
As for the OP, I offer the brazen bull/.
From the Fem-Bot probably not but that one other lady ------------------ 