It’s happened to all of us at one time or another. Today you’re going to put the finishing touches on your giant penis cake (you’re an erotic baker) and then pop it into the oven to finish. You’ll be walking away, humming while screams vaguely echo from the oven behind you, sounding vaguely like the groans of steel as it heats and cools in turn.
By the time you figure out that those sounds were the screams of a prostitute who had crawled inside the cake for sizing purposes it’ll be far, far too late. She’ll have died in her crusty tomb, and her body’s juices will have flavored the cake, making it extra delicious. Luckily she won’t have had any family or close friends, so no one’s going to come looking for her, but it was still kind of a dick move of you to murder her all the same.
Congratulations on Forgetting About the Hooker!
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