|Reading these suicide pages you will find people seeking help and people offering their help. Some witness about suicide from real life experience, others who play along with me would pretend it's a children's game. Some make sick and cruel jokes about it, and angry people blame me for even mentioning the subject. You might also want to read my favourite answers. If you want your answer to be included here, fill in the form.|
What is the best way to kill yourself when you're under 13?
Quelle est la meilleure forme de suicide pour les moins de 13 ans?
|08 Feb 2006||oceania||OF COURSE MOUCHETTE ISN'T A "REAL" 13 YEAR OLD GIRL YOU COMPLETE IDIOT.
This page is to make people THINK and be able to share whatever they feel like sharing.
YOU CAN'T SAVE PEOPLE BY FUCKING EMAILING THEM. I know it makes you feel better about yourself, it makes you feel like a life-saving hero, but don't fool yourself into thinking you can talk anyone out of any situation. What happens if one of them dies? How will you feel then? Judging by the way you write, you are young. Don't try and take responsibility for something you can't handle...you are WAY out of your depth.
p.s. LEARN TO SPEAK ENGLISH. Your spelling mistakes and grammatical errors are testing my patience.
|19 Jan 2006||Lucy Cortina||I have at last escaped from Mouchettes mansion. He trapped me in the bathroom with the rotting corpse of his mother. It was horrible! So horrible that my boobs accidentally began to inflate until they almost touched the floor where the blood was. There was the issue of Mouchettes brains inside my boobs to deal with too. They had a tug of war with my "boobie brains" and my boobie brains won. So now Mouchette has nowhere to keep his spare brains. I have exorcised them from my boobs at last.
I escaped from Mouchettes mansion by climbing out of the window, 7 stories high, and using my boobs to cushion the fall. I tell you, I practically bounced from France back to England!
Ahhhh you can't beat Enfland. Nothing like a cup of tea and a cream bun. Or if you're me, a cream bun that sticks to your boobs when you lean over to eat it.
When I got back to England, I ignored the many attempts by Mouchette to contact me on my pink slimline mobile telephone with last number redial. I caught up with the news by reading a few papers (the gossip columns anyway). And there it was, a golden snippet of information that would shatter my world (again): "Lottery winner plans to buy new Mercededes, a boob-job and room for a pony for exotic American girlfriend Felicia Floresca". I literally had a boob-attack on the spot! I thought I was going to die, it was all too much for me. I ordered mum to buy me 20 chocolate bars from the shop. After eating those, and feeling very ill, I called the bitch (and reversed the charge since she can now afford such luxuries) and told her what I thought of her.
No one puts Lucy Cortinas boobs out of joint!
|17 Jan 2006||ARi||you know what perplexes me? why the hell would you sell sea shells by the seahore. i mean its not a very good place to market that type of product you know. its all about location. you can just go walk on the seashore and pick up ur own seashells. sally is a dumb ass.
and wtf is a didle didle. i mean i know what a cat and a fiddle is. and how can a cow jump so freakin high. i mean thru the atmosphere thru the statusphere thru space... where there is no air to breath and they dont make space suits for cows. for monkeys yes but not cows. i mean it takes nasa like a week and a half to send folks over the moon. so those would be some awesome calfs. and i dont mean baby cows, i mean muscles. maybe if it was early in the night and the moon was low on the horizon and a cow ran up a hill and jumped over and bucked in mid air. ok i can see that happening but whats the chance of that?
|17 Jan 2006||The Uncola||Very boring site. Everyone has the same problems and no one ever follows through. Well I must say that is a good thing. As far as I know, the only one who ever did kill himslef was Flamer, but that was only symbolically. Not a lot has changed here. There's still the occasional funny thought, like Cobain's pet fish Gossam. Though there have been many painfully unfunny attempts to make someone crack a smile such as the Religious Maggie bits. I personally don't think Lucy Cortina is that funny either, but some do and that is their opinion. The question always lingers on my mind though as to the point of the "Suicide Kit". Will it ever be made? Will it incorporate elements that have been suggested here? And will it actually be sold to preteens?
Of course I know that it is really a bogus piece of work, but its fun to play along sometimes. And from time to time we all see the many who will complain about Mouchette (who has done nothing wrong except email people junk), and others will try to send advice to those who come looking for an ear to their troubles. It is easy to write off these people and call them silly, but that isn't what we should do. They wouldn't talk about suicidal thoughts if they really were dead set (lol "dead set") on killing themselves. They want help, and we shouldn't patronize them for it. And neither should you, Mouchette, let them be patronized.
I like popcorn.
I really must reveal my intentions now. I am only writing this in hopes of making the longest post ever on Mouchette's painfully boring message board. Come on people!!! Some of you really could use to lighten up a little more often and give us some good stuff to read. And for you the suicidals, we don't have to hear how you are depressed over nothing, just tell us how you fell and we'll try to help. we don't need the bland details of you sitting on your bed depressed because the light blew out. If you actually have personal problems that are making you think the way you do then please say them, but if you are just depressed because you can be, spare us the details. Don't get me wrong though. I'm not saying I won't help, I'm just saying you should really keep it to yourself or people will ridicule you and you will feel worse. Please don't be angered by this.
Flamer is probably dead. I think he commited suicide shortly after he was ran off. It would make sense though, after all this was the only place he felt welcome. Religious Maggie should be dead too, because he was a poor comedian that only used offensive material that wasn't funny to anyone. Lucy's not dead I assume, as to the fact that she recently posted I think. Although like I said I don't really like her brand of comedy, someone must like it. Please people, if you are gonna do something funny, think before you post.
Think back to the lessons of Bloodninja.
There is an island somewhere. and on this island is every great musician that died in the past 50 years. Tupac walking beside Frank Sinatra, and Elvis singing with Jimi Hendrix on guitar. Even Cobain's brain is there in a jar (he doesn't talk or play guitar, not like anyone would want him to). Jim Morrison is there, George Harrison, John Lennon, Cliff Burton, and even Johny Cash. Black Michael Jackson has taken solitude there, and so did Biggie. Janis Joplin is there and would be the only woman if not for Mama Cass.
If this is still being read right now, I would like to say thank you for keeping with this instead of reading 2 sentences then assumin I suck. My intention is for the best of people.
Here's a sample from the Reverend: SPERMAL ABUSE
Current mood: optimistic
THOSE FUCKING MICE WON'T TRY TO REVOLT AGAINST ME ANYMORE!!!! THEY WERE SHOWN SOME SWIFT DISCIPLINE AND SHRAPNEL FOR THEIR TROUBLES!!!!! THE REBELION OF THE MICE IS OVER!!!!!
As you can tell, an uprising of mice was vanquished today by our Special Stealth Gunnery 5th Battalion of Radiated Fraternal Police Toads. They fought bravely, and some even died to the mice. As a result today is now declared TOAD SMASH MOUSE day. Also I outlawed spermal abuse today. Spermal abuse, as you may know, is rampant among men (and some women). It occurs whenever a man throws a used tissue away or in the toilet, when he masturbates in the shower as well. Some women are known to clean themselves with disposable tissue as well. This law will make it to where the sperm must be put to good use when dispersed. Whether it fertilizes, is swallowed, used to annoy your roommate, or in a special wine at a party (I love the joke), it must be used properly. The punishment for unabiding by this law is extraction of the genitals. Everyone remember there is an execution tommorrow, tickets are on sale. It will be held at Chink-cho-cho Stadium in Beijing. Have a good day.
By Adolf Hitler
Well I hope that was enjoyable. I also have one from a great Dungeon Master:
This is Trash's list of things not to right a song about. (Because I'm the fucking genius).
1. Fucking a tranny in the ass, or playing dick swords with one's that uncircumsized.
2. baby-raping (Sorry Stephen Lynch, thats a no-no)
3. Beating black people up in the name of progress
4. yeast infections
5. admitting to being behind the Holocaust
6. A threesome with your son and granny (a.k.a. showing son the ropes on ma')
7. Your mama, trains, being drunk, trucks, prison, and rain
8. being raped by aliens and your daddy
9. cheating on you girlfriend
11. Graveyards in the spring
12. Pimpin, hoes, gangstas, and clubs
13. Dungeon Dave of the Outer Rim
14. Disney movies, shows, and other disney things
15. any song with the word horticulture in it
16. killing, maiming, death, Satan, and blood
17. How big you dick is, how small your dick is, how tight your pussy is, or how loose your pussy is (These are to be said in normal conversation not in a song)
18. Cutting yourself
19. being a badass without the evidence to back it up.
20. breakup songs are always a NO!
Here's another list:
And Now, Josh X's List Of Things To Give To A Girl You Used To Like As A Wedding Gift:
1 Your Brains And Skull Fragment Spewed Down The Chapel Aisle Right IN The Middle Of The Ceremony
2 Your Best Wishes- and then bring up memories of the time she gave you crabs (you must do this one in front of her new husband).
3 A Golden Shower
4 The Child you made After A 3 doors down concert.
6 Some Organ From Any Form Of Livestock (preferable the heart)
7 A Free Brake Removal job to the ride that will be used to get to the honeymoon (must be given on the same day as the wedding or the gift willl lose all value)
8 The Husband-to-be's head in a garbage bag
9 an untraceable phone call every day
10 A cake.
There's very little more I can talk about here. I leave it up to Mouchette whether or not to post this, but know this Mouchette, if you don't I will send the same post everyday until you do.
|17 Jan 2006||SpookyPenguin||I here the bells ringing...
They won't stop i want to kill the
fucker who makes them ring...
Im laying on the ground...
I think i smeel blood, or maybe it's burnt bacon...
God damnit the bells are back...
Make them stop...
My god damn ears are bleeding...
Shit i killed her...
Where am i...
And why did i do this...
|15 Jan 2006||Chrismas Jones||Well today, i was walking/skateboarding with my friend, even thought it was damn freezing outside. And some fire engine pulls out of the station with the lights flashing and the loud noises and such. But as soon as it pulls out it gets stuck in traffic for almost a minute because no one wanted to move out of the way... My friend started yelling at the people, and i just sat that and thought "God damnit, another retard from mouchette just died..."|
|05 Jan 2006||Felicia The Great||Dear Mouchette,
It's a cold, cold 2006. I have been on this site for almost four years, can you believe it? I never realized that this website was a forum.
The history of me writing in this post website began in late December of 2001. There I was lamenting over a hopeless relationship of lost dreams. It was the year of drowning misery of guzzling Peppermint Schnapps in a cold, cold room on a dark hillside. It was so cold, you can talk in the room and a mist of warm air came out of your mouth. Now you wanted to know what it was like for a bum to live in a cardboard box. Think of it as a cardboard box bedroom. I was ready to end my life then. I lay awake on a cold, cold bed staring at a ceiling, bundled in a jacket, knit cap, and Nike shoes filled with thermal socks.
It felt like Heavens Gate at Hale Bopp for me, but Applegate already left the building.
Then Lucy Cortina and Billy the Freak came to the rescue.
|04 Jan 2006||Felicia The Great||It seems that I have a fan.
I have a young man who wants to shower me with Tiffany diamonds, a house, and a Mercedes. I predict Lucy Cortina will get jealous about this.
I am afraid she will hate me if I plan to have plastic surgery for a double 38 B and cushy silicon breasts.
I see her fuming now. Oh.... I see her fuming now. Billy the Weeping freak beware. Be very aware.
|23 Dec 2005||Hoping is Dreaming, to me.||Searching www.google.co.uk for "How to Die" gets you 341,000,000 results (three hundred and fourty one million).
However, not only does google find the web pages for you, it also suggests two other searches: 'how to commit suicide' and 'how to kill yourself'! Google actually gives you these search terms without any warning and without you asking. Isn't that mad?
|21 Dec 2005||Felicia The Great||It seems I have major fans. Nobody knows what it is like to live on the rim of extinction. Billy the Freak is back, Lucy Cortina is in full swing with her knockers, Just a Girl is in hiatus, and as for me, I am just yammering away and reading these posts from the unfortunate and the too fortunate.
I will explain to you what a suicide kit is. A suicide kit has ten digits and a brain. At the present moment, as you are reading this post, your brain is functioning at will. In 25 or 40 years you will develop memory loss. You will die eventually some day, it could be tonight, it could be tomorrow. So stop making attempts in killing yourself and let nature take its course. Don't fast forward your life ending it with suicide because its too much work.
Would you find it too much work to do something thrilling like sky diving? Or surfing? Or working on occupations that are life threatening? If you plan on taking your life, why not enjoy it by helping others? You can save another person's life by risking your life. I see people everyday on a death wish. Their thoughts are to help the unfortunate.
As for me, being a dog groomer has its death wish too. You can be mauled to death by bathing a Pit Bull, Mastiff, or Rottweiler. Or get an infection from a fear biting Shih Tzu and die from it.
Death is all around you. Make the best of it. It only gets worst when you wallow in the "Woe is me" mentality mode. Has it occurred to you that there are mysteries out there you really should know about?
I salute to Billy, Lucy, Just a Girl, and the people that helped warm up this website, despite the cold, cold world.
And for you, I would like you to remember this that you are not alone and your life is not over. Feel free to email me whenever you can or simply submit to this seeking help posts in this website.
With Love Always,
Felicia The Great
|12 Dec 2005||no-expression||it hurts. like its actually a physical pain. ive never understood how something that has no scar can hurt. but it does. so much. plus there's this constant throbbing. i cant make i stop, its always there. i cant figure that out either. there's also the vaccuum. im standing in a crowd but im he only one there. like theres a shield. or a wall, only a clear one. because i can see through it. i can see everyone else. i call them, wait, no, i scream their names. they should hear me right? i mean, they really should. or wait. maybe im not shouting loud enough? ok i shout louder, but still. nothing. and the weight. that i carry around. this unseen burden that seems to grow with every breath i take. sometimes i try not to breathe. maybe if i dont breathe, then it wont get any heavier than it is now. but i cant stop breathing. my body is my enemy in this game. i say stop breaathing, but it continues. and now i dont know. i want to have it ripped out, please, even if it hurts, i want it to be done. then the sun will shine, right? and the birds will sing for me. because right now they are only singing for everyone else but me.|
|12 Dec 2005||Scor-b||Firstly I would like to say that the post I made yesturday was my only post to incorporate fiction*. All my other posts have been based on stuff that I actually experienced. *This will be obvious to you if you read the post.
I would also like to thank all the people who have e-mailed me over the past months in response to posts that I have made. One of the best things about posting here has been the responses from people who really understand your situation. You should try it. Oh, and for all those of you who have posted without an e-mail, because you will get emailed by 'wankers' I would say, don't worry. - Out of all the emails I have recieved there was only 1 which pissed me off. It was from some relious lady telling me not to kill myself and 'I MUST live' blah blah blahjd.... whatever. Oh well. That got deleted. Apart from that the rest were all great. It's nice to know that there are people who think just like you, and I have learnt alot from the things people have told me; I learnt more about how people think. Which has been great. So, thank-you. I hope I gave good replys. So to conclude, I would like to say God bless* us all. Or Allah bless us, or the devil, or your brother, or whoever you belive in. Oh yeah, and even bless Lucy Bloody Cortina. Who I hate. Haha. *Laughs* Thanks for reading. Scors-b.
|11 Dec 2005||Scors-b||Only 14 months ago I lay in total agony, in my own vomit, on a hospital bed in england. Not a hope in the world; poor, without friends, without family. I had nothing, only worse. I guess I am still the same in a way. Still, there is no one beside me, and still, I have a dream that many would find uneviable; a dream to be closer to my goal of no more pain. In some ways, I am now closer to that dream than I ever have been before. Now a have a plan. Now, I can finally imagine a place where everything that eats away at me from the inside will be gone.
I'm sitting, staring at the screen of a laptop, like I often have. My eyes wander, and I gaze accross the glass pannaling then encases the room in which I'm sitting. Through the glass, there are fluffy white clouds, slowly beggining to redden, as the sun falls. The mannhattan skyline looks pretty tonight. I begin to wonder, how, in a successful city like this, how there can be so many people who just don't care about the suffering beneath thier noses. So captured are they by the media's portarayal of the undeveloped countries, that they forget about how many people around them are suffering. For somehow, it seems easier if 'suffering' is boxed and wrapped and sent to a far away place, along with a donation to charity. It lightens the concience. For me, I dream of a place where people have the courage to listen and understand to those who are in positions of lonelyliness, therefore developing the two most important emotions in human history: empathy, and love...
Box A, Box B. Next Of Kin: Mr X. Where do you plan to go from here? And in five years? Is there a desire in you to make the world a better place? Or would you rather lick influential arses, to promote your own status. At what point does a questionnaire become intrusive. Tell me your wildest secrets, and we will consider you. Thankyou for your time. P.S. Answer as you like, but we will judge you.
My hand touched cold metal. Was there a future for the schoolmasters dream. Cluck, Click, Seven point check. Don't cut corners, you will regret it. Door locked, curtains drawn. Tomorrow was thanksgiving, a day for comtemplation for millions of people. But I could hear them running up the stairs. How had they found out?! Bang!Bang!Bang! "Mr ...? Open the door!" The voice demanded. Silence. "Open this door at once!"
Now there was no more time for contemplation. I loaded the pistol with its final round, held it to my throat, and let off an almightly bang. Three pounds of skull and flesh tore through the air. The chair turned, and there was a thud as my body collapsed to the floor.
There was a solumn silence. Perhaps now I will be able to make sense of the cruel world. And maybe, I will be able to understand why it is that there is so much suffering. Either way, there will be no more. No more of anything.
A blood splattered form was peeled from the desk. A cell phone number was dialed... "Hello? Mr X? I'm afraid I have some bad news.... It's about your son..."
|07 Dec 2005||Malik Bey||First, I will have to say that there is no best or good way to kill yourself at thirteen or any other age. Technically you should not consider this. It is not an option. YOur physical self is needed to BE. Therefore you can't really BE dead or anything else. What makes you YOU or what you BE doesn't end with death.So instead I offer another more Do able solution that does involve DEATH. At 12 and 13 i experienced a very similar situation only i was already too dead to kill myself. I was so finished and just dead to my world that I ceased to exist. If you need to know what sparked it I really don't know exactly and I can bet its not as bad as what you might be experiencing right now but here goes. At 12 i was arrested and accused of assualting and robbing the same young man whom i had just helped get away from some young bullies. They threatened him on a public bus. His parents notified police after he was mugged by the same young bullies the following school day. The boy came to my school with police. He was visibly nervous and he probably only recognized my face from the bus. I was arrested and sent to an adult jail where i spent 2 days before my mother picked me up. Now although the case was dropped by the boy and i wasn't sent to jail, my world would never be the same. Although i was a good kid, no one really believed that i didn't do this. Since then, the climate of my life has never been the same. Its around this time that i would also endure my mother turning to crack cocain and abandoning my self and my two brothers , one would later die of aids,the other is also emotionally disturbed, leaving me in a sort of hell. We werent rich so things got crazy. My brothers, who both hated me and beat me when ever convienient, were already getting in police trouble so i guess i was my mothers last hope. I would spend the next couple years husltlin around on the streets and avoiding people who knew my family prior to the wreck, before we lost the house and were homeless. Thats when i went numb and with no choice but to either end it or go on living in hell. Ive been shot at, arrested(for crimes i did commit),my neighborhood bulldozed over and all of my child hood friends would later also be defeated by dead or jail. We all felt the same pain. Nobody cared nobody loved us. And though we would later rob and steal and hurt people. Thats not what we wanted. Ive seen some of the most dangerous men in our contry cry pools of pain. Pain that never healed.Many of them were killed because THEY DIDN'T HAVE THE GUTS TO DOIT THEMSELVES. Im 30 now. I never hurt anyone and I have yet to hurt myself. I still think about how much I want to end it because i just get so tired. Then i remember what got me out the last time. And the time before that. It certainly wasnt't just about dying back then. Without any therapy I realized that life goes on. The life i want to end is the life that doesn't belong to me.Its the life that belongs to THEM! These people (mom,dad,stepdad,etc..) who don't even see me! They don't even know im alive!!They dont even see me in pain. Thats when i planned my escape. In three long years i would be 16 going on 17. I didnt runaway from home, although home was a drug den and later couches in other peoples home,I involved my self and enrolled my self in every possible thing i could for free. I stayed away from some people, avoided others, and tried supporting my mother while in and out of rehab (although i knew she didn't think much of me anymore).I hung around new people. I called relatives i never knew I had and i disappeared into the new images of ME that i sometimes created. From then on i worked and saved up enough money to leave my urban chaos and go to school across the country. For the 1st two years of college I didnt have to work much with loans and all. I was afraid a bit at first because i was always so antisocial and anxieity ridden when around un familiar people. But i sware, all of the energy that people put into mistreating, misunderstanding, and abusing me gave me the energy to just GO! Get out. Somewhere out there youll find someone who loves you and cares about you and most important someonewho sees you.KILL your OLD self. Give birth to someone new. Change your name. If possible move or move in with a relative(Dont trust any stranger).LET EVERUONE KNOW THAT YOUR NOT HAPPY.Forget'em if they dont like it than they can come KILL YOU. If they cant do that than they dont exist to you anyway. As humans our species is actually made up of many different others. One being reptillian or snakes. Now, as we all know snakes shed theyre skin. Your no different. I threw myself into dreams. I GAVE MYSELF SOMETHING TO LOOK FOWARD TOO once i was away from them pain. Once i was out i was free. No one expected it. They expected me to be a bum or a drug addict or dealer or just KILL MYSELF. I hated them so much i never gave them that satisfaction. They hurt me so much that i in turn made them wanna kill themselves. Its a little bit harder to get even with the system and the police and they still want me dead. They still want me to KILL MYSELF. But i aint dead yet. I still cry alot. i still feel hurt and disappointed in the people who i thought were suppose to love and protect me.I still feel like that 12 year old boy and its hard being alone out here but I can't DIE. Why because I deserve to be HAPPY and ALIVE. I wont stop until thats achieved. I still hold on to the faith that there is somebody out there whos just like me. Looking for love and friendship. Together we can survive all of the ugliness.|
|03 Dec 2005||Princess Oblivious||Close your eyes, hold your breath, write/draw/express your death scene in some way and wait at least 30 more years to see if there really is no reason to live.|
|21 Nov 2005||wow. mouchette not only do you suck but your site sucks too.
i mean i made several posts over 2 weeks ago and your site remains un-updated.
whats wrong mouchette? are you to busy sleeping with men twice your age such as your father grandfather and uncles or is your site screwed up. i got a web site and my PHP is screwed up. :)
you are a stupid whore mouchette. queen of the biznoutches. i bet you cant control yourself around a male family member. first moment of being alone and whooooop, up goes mouchettes skirt.
|08 Nov 2005||billy the freak||due to suicides recent rise in popularity i have again decided to cash in on other peoples misery. hopefully this makes me a lot less miserable. the idea has been crawling around the vacant lot for awhile now and i figure it is time for it to get up and start running. introducing billy's suicide solutions:
imagine this classic problem.
you've been up all night. pure vodka seeps through your pores as you labor over the penmanship and wording of your farewell letter and no matter what you do it just doesn't look right. well no more. let our professional writing staff do the work for you. for the low price of 49.99* you can have a perfect end to a not so perfect life. heres how it works. give us your name, the names of people you might want mentioned in your note, a few choice phrases, and a brief but detailed rundown of the events that led to your final decisions. then pick a parchment and a font. five business days after the completed order date you will have a beautifully styled suicide note. less the strife. at billy's suicide solutions we want your final days easy as possible, because we care about our customers.
*not including all applicable taxes and surcharges minus shipping and handling
|18 Oct 2005||UniversalTourist||this is a koan if i ever saw one
know what a 'koan' is? it's a device used by a zen master to force his students to meditate. the master poses a question, but one that does not have a ready, logical answer. the student meditates upon the question - and may or may not come up with 'the answer', but the important part is the meditation.
what's the best way to kill yourself when you're under 13? clearly there is no logical answer. the only people who could supply an answer would be under-13 year old's who have successfully killed themselves. anybody else is just a poser.
and the posters here reveal a lot of posers. people giving other people advice. i don't care if you're telling me how to kill myself or not to kill myself. i don't want your fucking advice. if u really knew how to kill yourself you'd be dead already. if u don't want to kill yourself, don't pretend to know me, asshole.
i appreciate the people who have shared what methods didn't work for them. at least i'll probably avoid those methods next time
(i don't want to give my e-mail address because i don't want a lot of wankers writing to me)
|15 Oct 2005||Don Ray||Buy a small pine tree. Plant it in your backyard. When it grows to be 200 feet tall, climb up and decide if you really want to go through with it. By that time, you'll probably be at least 90 years old.
You may decided that 90 is just too young for suicide.
|06 Oct 2005||Lucy Cortina||Mouchette has just emotionally ejaculated into my boobies...
I could actually feel his brains filter all of their knowledge and beautiful emotions into my breasts. Perhaps they would become as artistic as Mouchette. I let out a scream of turkish delight, and peered down at my boobs - I could see Mouchette's face pressed in-between them. It had taken so much energy out of him that he'd fallen asleep with a smile on his face. I lay there for a while, enjoying the wonderful feelings he had pumped into my boobs. It was like they'd been given a whole new life. I was in heaven. But I was still on top of a collapsed table, full of chicken breasts coated in garlic butter.
A thought suddenly hit me.
"I'm gonna STINK of garlic! It'll ruin that new pink top I bought at Bonne Marche!".
I threw Mouchette off me, who rolled off the table with a thud and continued dozing. I ran around the mansion, arms flailing, covered in garlic butter, looking for a bathroom. I slipped on a patch of marble flooring, and landed on my back. Evereything went tits up.
A door opened next to me, and a man came out!
"Can I help you madame?" he said, peering down.
"Er..yes, oui. I'm looking for the bathroom, how you say..le...batheroome?"
"Zis way madame" he said, offering me a hand. I glared at him.
I tried to get up by myself but only succeeded in slipping around on the floor like a fish with boobs. It was no use. I reluctantly took his hand, and he hoisted me up.
I had nothing to cover my boobs with but decided I didn't care - the're probably so big they can probably be seen from the Moon by now anyway.
I followed him to the bathroom and said "Merci boucoup", then locked the door. I slumped onto the floor, thinking the nightmare was over.
But nothing in my world is ever that simple...
I noticed that the floor seemed a bit sticky, so I looked down...and let out a scream. There was blood all over the floor!