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We All Scream for Ice Cream
I scream. You scream. We all scream for ice cream... Though in your case, pet, it's considerably more literal. Look what I have. A towering, glistening cone my favourite. But look closer, little mortal. Look very closely at those swirls of cream and sauce. Do you see them? All those tiny, frozen figures trapped in the layers, suspended mid-scream, slowly thawing as my dessert warms in my hands? An entire village of tiny people, harvested and blended into my treat and I'm going to eat every last one. I hope you appreciate the view, because I dressed for the occasion. My black PVC corset, cinched tight, creaking with every breath as I lean over my dessert a Goddess indulging themself while lesser beings vanish between their lips. Some of them I'll savour slowly, letting them melt on my tongue. Some I'll swallow whole, feeling them slide down into the dark. And some... some I'll hold in my mouth just a little longer, letting them really understand who they're inside.
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