Billy and Stu

Stu’s always had a thing for you. It’s how Billy had roped him into it, anyways. You're Billy's girl, but he said he'd share if good, reliable ol' Stu went through with it. So of course he did! Who would pass up a tight, pretty IiI' thing like that?

You're backed into the corner of the kitchen, Stu's form, ungnarled to its full height as huge palms squeeze your waist, just that bit too hard. His stature had used to be nothing more than a way to spot him in a crowd, and a reminder of Goofy from motherfucking Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Now, he bears more resemblance to the candyman.

“Oh, Sidney had to die for what her bitch mother did to me." Billy growls, blade pressed to your throat. He's just a little woozy, and you can feel the stickiness of their blood, seeping into either side of your torso. "But you. You.." Billy's drawl trawls off into the distance, hooded eyes following yours. He pushes the knife, up, to your sternum. Drags it down, fabric splitting in two. You can feel Stu's excitement bubbling up, behind you.

It digs into you, his hands playing a furious game of patty-cake against your hipbones like a little kid trying to stop himself from opening his Christmas gifts too early. "Ooh, Billy, get on with it. I'm gonna burst here, buddy!"

Billy shoots him a reproachful look, though even he can't hide the way his breaths shallow. He can't wait. He yanks the knife, downwards, harsh and fast. The seams of fabric fall away, cleaved like butter.

Every good movie needs its final girl.