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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Roos85 on 2024-11-17 02:55:09+00:00.
No, I don’t have the source for the movies and before you ask, it's not mainstream porn you can find by just googling my name. They’re videos of me being murdered. Where would you even find those types of videos? Dark web maybe, I don’t know. I don’t like watching myself being murdered.
What I can tell you is I’ve starred in over 50 and according to the guy that distributes them I’m the most watched and most sought-after snuff star in history, If that's even a thing.
You’re probably wondering how one would even get into that business. Well, the short answer is by accident. You don’t wake up one day and decide you want to be murdered.
In my case, I answered an ad looking for an amateur porn actress. I was just starting in the business and the pay seemed reasonable. When I arrived at the location which was a house in an upmarket location, it didn’t raise any red flags. It all seemed legit until I asked to be paid upfront, and the response was let's see how you die first. Before I knew it, I was being held down and the cameras began rolling.
All I can say is dying is like going to sleep during surgery, it's painful, yes at the start and scary, but when your heart starts slowing down you get a rush of euphoria before everything goes silent before the lights go out.
I couldn’t tell if there was an afterlife. I don’t stay dead long enough to find out. It's like going to sleep without dreaming, there’s a nanosecond of darkness before you wake up again.
You would think that a guy whose business is death could be easily scared, but when I suddenly woke up as they were loading me into a shallow grave in the woods he screamed like a little girl.
It took some time to calm him down. You would swear it was him that was just brutally murdered with the way he reacted, but once the initial shock wore off he look me dead in the eye (no pun intended) and said, I’m going to make you a fucking star.
I can’t go into details on how I get snuffed out, but I can say, the money is great. More than I could ever make being in mainstream porn.
The problem isn’t the fact that my employer is a death dealer of women. Actually, no women have been murdered apart from me of course, since I started. The problem is the reaction I'm starting to get the more my popularity grows.
The surprising thing is the people who notice me are the most ordinary people you could imagine. Not monsters that hide away in the shadows fantasizing about murdering women. I mean school teachers, doctors, and even young teenagers.
The biggest shock for me was when I was sitting in a cafe and I was approached by a young dad who had his two young daughters with him. He sat staring at me while his daughters sat eating chocolate muffins. I knew why he was looking at me even if he didn’t. As I was finishing up my latte I looked up to see him standing next to me with a strange grin on his face.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” He suddenly asked.
I was in my comfort clothes, a baggy t-shirt with a pair of sweatpants and the tattoo of a pentagram on my arm was on show. He began studying me to figure out how he knew and when I was just about to speak, he noticed the tattoo on my arm. It was like a light switch on in his brain and he suddenly realized where he knew me from. His face turned deathly pale and he began to stutter a bit before he hurried himself and his daughters out of the cafe.
I was never really worried about being noticed before, because the men that watched me expected me to be dead. I also never gave a second thought to my tattoo being the thing that gave me away. I mean how many girls out there have the same tattoo? When I got it done I was told it was a popular choice. That all changed when I got a phone call from my mother.
My poor mother had no clue about the type of business I was in. She always thought I was into some lifestyle stuff, like a trainer to the stars or something. I think the dream was better than the reality and always told her friends I was a successful businesswoman of some sort. Technically she wasn’t wrong.
All that changed when she rang me in hysterics. She could barely contain herself over the phone. “You’re alive, you’re alive, is all she kept on repeating down the phone. After I calmed her down and reassured her I was very much alive I waited until her breathing had slowed to a more relaxed state.
“Alison, for a moment I thought I was speaking to a ghost.” My mother was always my biggest fan in life and it broke my heart to hear her this upset.
“The police were here. Men in suits, detectives I think they were. They told me you were dead. Oh my sweet girl they told me you were dead. They had found blood and something about a tape or the internet. The bastards gave me a heart attack. I knew you weren’t dead.”
That night, I went to stay with my mother. Just to reassure her that I was still physically present and to just hug her. Mainly to reassure myself that I was definitely still present in this world. Deep down, I knew what this was about. Of course, someone who wasn’t a degenerate monster was going to watch my movies and try to put a name on the woman who should be somewhere in a shallow grave. But I always thought people would think the movies were just great fakes because you can only be the star of one snuff movie, not fifty.
A few weeks had passed and apart from my losing a year or two off of her life things had settled down.
I had decided to quit, it was never going to be a long-term thing, but if I was going to stop, my final movie was going to be my best. Go out with a bang I always say.
It was the day of the shoot and on the way to the location, I couldn’t escape the feeling I was being watched. I put it down to my nerves because I was going to die in the most brutal way possible. It was going to be so bad no one was ever going to think it was faked. And the fact it was going to be the last video of me, made it sound all the more believable.
I knew it was going to be painful, but the pain never lasted and all I was thinking was, it's going to be a spectacular death and it was. But as the euphoria swept over me and I began to slip into the darkness, I watched as men in swat gear burst into the room followed by men in suits.
As always I came back to life with a big gasp of air, like a baby taking its first breath after being expelled from the womb. I was expecting to be in the room where I was murdered, but this time I found myself on a cold metal slab. As I looked around what looked like an operating room I saw two men in suits. One was smiling, while the other appeared to hand over money from his wallet.
“Hi, welcome back. I just bet my colleague fifty dollars that you would come back from the dead,” he said as he put the note into his top pocket.
“I must say, I am a big fan of your movies. Damsel in the Dungeon is my personal favourite,” said the smartly dressed man as he smiled down at me.
This was the first time I had ever felt in danger. A sudden panic washed over me as I tried to get up off the table.
The two men in suits smiled at each other before handing me a hospital gown.
“Where am I,” I asked nervously.
“You have nothing to worry about, it's not like we are going to kill you,” said one of the men as they burst out laughing.
The two men walked me to an interview room and sat me down at a table opposite them.
“You still haven’t told me who you are and my reasons for being here.”
The two men adjusted themselves into a more serious posture.
“Sorry for the confusion. My name is Agent Harris and my colleague here is Agent Butler.”
“I look across at the two young agents sitting across from me as their frozen expressions fixate on me.”
“Agents? Are you F.B.I. or something,” I nervously asked.
One of the agents gave a disgruntled laugh as if I offended him.
“Close, we’re with the CIA.”
“What do you want with me? I didn’t know dying was illegal.”
The two men sat upright as one of them put a picture of a woman in front of me.
“We need your help with a delicate situation. It’s of the utmost importance to the security of this country.”
I looked down at the picture of a woman who looked strangely enough like me. Apart from her expensive-looking attire and different-coloured hair, we had the same facial features and we looked to be the same height.
“The woman in the picture is the wife of the Russian minister for defense Sergei Shoigu,” said the Agent with a sound of urgency in his voice.
“What does this have to do with me?” I asked.
“She has a lot of secrets that could be very important to us. The problem is her husband isn’t a nice man. Fortunately for us, her husband isn’t a nice man and treats her like a dog. So she wants a way out of the marriage, but being the man he is, he’s not going to let her go so easily.”
“I still don’t get what this has to do with me.”
The two agents look at each other before fixating their stares at me again.
“Sergei is a very powerful man. Even if we got her out of the country we couldn’t guarantee her safety. The only way we could do that is if we faked her death, but it has to look convincing and that is where you come in.”
It suddenly began to make sense. I remember a guy friend of mine who was big into conspiracy theories and would always bang on about how the moon landings were faked in a studio.
“So would I be correct in thinking you want me to make another movie given my special talent?”
The two agents ...
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