I volunteered for the Corpses Exhibition

When the kit arrived home, it didn’t look like much. On the outside, it looked like the ordinary Amazon packaging with paper duck-tape holding together a brown box. Inside, wrapped in a pluriball, a smaller white box sealed with a piece of tape awaited.

I just entered the building when the door man, previously distracted by some terrible talk show on his telly, called me to inform me a package had arrived. I was expecting no package that day. A few seconds of trying to remember what impulse buy I had done recently and then the knowledge struck me: it was my death sentence.

I had volunteered my body for the Corpses Exhibition two years before. A massive art gallery in Paris that aimed at creating unique pieces of art using real bodies from people who volunteered to kill themself. Aroused by the idea, drunk, and almost sure they will never get permission to actually do it, I applied online one night and in a few seconds I was in their system. Then the Corpses Exhibition faded out of the news after their big announcement and all the governments around the world opposed it in every way possible.

But as I was in my apartment holding the white box in my hand, I discovered that they quietly lobbied their way around the legal system and they were ready to collect their volunteers.

I already knew what was in the box but my heart skipped a beat when I saw it.

Inside the box, a handwritten note said only “Thank you!”. On the back of it, printed like an Ikea assembly instruction, there was everything I needed to do.

The first step was simple: you can step back out of it if you want. But it will cost you. The agreement I digitally signed threatened a one million dollar fine if I didn’t respect my end of the contract.

Second step: with extreme care, take out the little glass bottle embedded in the box and mix the poison in it within a glass of water. Third step was written in bold characters and felt extremely important: prepare a text message with the word “Done” and get ready to send it to the attached number.

Fourth step: drink the glass of water, send the message, and relax, possibly lying down to avoid damaging your body, and wait for death.

My heart was pounding. This was it. Today was my last day alive and these were my final moments. Panic and arousal grew uncontrollably as I looked around my house like I was searching for something to do before killing myself. But nothing mattered anymore. I was going to die soon, my body then shipped to the artists in the gallery and displayed in an undisclosed way for strangers to see.

I took a final shower resisting the urge to masturbate in fear I would chicken out of the entire thing and end up with a 1 million dollars debt on my head for the rest of my days. Then, naked, I filled the glass of water and dropped the content of the small bottle in it. My hand was shaking and my head was spinning at a million miles per hour. I took a deep breath and drank the whole glass at once.

My stomach immediately started to feel the pain of the poison. My breath accelerated while I grabbed the phone and texted “Done” to the number on the note in the package.

“I’ve done it, I killed myself” I kept thinking. “I’m dying, this is it, I’m dead”.

I layed on my bed, completely naked, and allowed myself to masturbate. I felt every inch of my body more and more alive. I could feel my bare feet moving on the sheets, my fingers making way on my clit, my boobs hanging on the side of my chest. Every breath felt different and the knowledge I was pretty much dead made me more and more aroused. I came and squirted on the sheets, making a mess of my death bed.

“Maybe I have time to change the sheets,” I thought to myself after a few seconds of bliss. But when I tried to move, no muscle responded. I was paralized, my left hand still on my clit and my right hand on my belly. The panic started to kick in and replaced the arousal. I tried and tried to move but was entirely paralized, aside from my eye bulbs. I could breath and could hear my heart pounding in my chest but was trapped into my body.

I heard the door of my apartment opening and two people walking inside. They closed the door behind them and operated all the light switches inundating my house with light. After a small search, one of them told the other “she’s here”.

“Hello darling” he then said looking at me. I could feel a drop of saliva running down my right cheek and onto my neck. “You are not dead yet dear, don’t panic. The effect of the drug will wear off in a few hours. All the volunteers will be executed at the exhibition, to have more variety in the cause of death”.

I was relieved in a way. I was not dead. Not yet. But I was completely helpless, naked, in front of two strangers in my house.

“She’s hot,” said the other man, who had never spoken since coming into my field of view. “Can’t you take a break sometimes?” responded his partner. “You just blew your load into that other woman's mouth. They are not dead. They will report you when they wake up”.

“Will you shut up and make yourself some coffee while I take care of business here”.

I heard him pulling down his pants and getting ready to enter my pussy, still moist from my squirting. When he came into my field of view, I fully saw his face. He looked like he was in his 50s. I had never slept with a man that old to that point. He was bald on top of his head but kept the hair on the side of his head long. He didn’t gave a fuck about his looks. His teeths were in bad shape, his clothes and beard stinked of cheap beer and cigarette smoke. I felt him penetrating me, and was relieved by the fact he was not hung by any stretch of the word.

After a few thrusts, he cummed inside me growling in my ears. “You liked it, didn’t you?” he told me. “I’m gonna take your silence as a yes,” he added after licking my lips.

“You done?” his partner was back in the room. He looked younger and watched at me in disgust seeing I was dripping cum from my pussy. “Let’s bag her up”.

They moved my body into a white bag and put me on a stretcher. I realized they were dressed as ambulance workers moments before they closed the zip, leaving me inside.

“Oh my god, what happened?” screamed the old lady next door when she saw the stretcher with the body bag on top of it. “The woman next door killed herself, I’m sorry” replied the man who just creampied me on my bed. “Do you know if her apartment is for sale?” the old lady asked while I was rolled away.

The ambulance ride was a mess. The noise inside it was deafening and I felt car sick for the very first corner. But at least I was out of the body bag and able to see around me again.

We arrived at a warehouse and parked inside. When I was pulled out of the vehicle, I spotted several other people in the same condition as me. Older, younger, of any kind of sex and shape. All paralized, all exchanging looks of fear and amusement at the same time.

We were placed in cheap open coffins and loaded into a military-style airplane. I was freezing and my nipples were showing it. But the people working didn’t mind if we got the cold or not.

We took off and, lying in the dark and with nothing to see, I fell asleep after a while.

I woke up to the distant sounds of gasps and some screams. As I regained consciousness, I realized I had control of my body again. I could feel my fingers moving and I could turn my head. My wrists and ankles were firmly secured in thick metal rings chained to rods. I was lying on my back and couldn’t move an inch. My legs were kept slightly apart at the end of the stretcher and my arms were immobilized on the side of my body.

When I moved my sight around, I noticed I was just one of a long line of stretchers. We were all moving sideways, left to right, one step at the time. After a while, on the right, the line bent in a ninety degree turn around a wall and it looked like the women in the middle of the turn were able to see what was going on at the beginning of the line. Some screams of fear came from behind the wall, but it wasn’t too dramatic. Just the occasional “NO!” could be heard. I could also clearly hear some sort of alarm sound going off and on regularly.

“Hi there” said the woman on my right, the one before me in line. I could already read in her words a thick east european accent.

“Hi,” I replied. “Nice to meet you”.

“Nice to meet you too. You have been off quite more than the rest of us.”

“Maybe I should have used more water”

“Ah ah” she smiled, “maybe, yes”.

She went back looking to her right. We all were trying to anticipate what was going to happen.

“I think this is the execution line” she said as the stretchers, moved by operators, moved us one step closer to the turn. The one who just made it on the other side had her eyes wide open in fear.

“What do you think will happen?” I asked.

“We die,” she said smiling. I felt I was getting wet and instinctively tried to reach my clit, but was held in place by the metal ring around my hands.

“How are they gonna kill us tho?”

“I really don’t know. But we are moving quickly, so maybe we are done in groups”.

“That would be efficient. But if it was hanging we would hear gasps, no?”

“Maybe it’s a long drop and the alarm going off is when they drop the next group”.

Long drop. Never thought of it. Still hanging, but I had read that the neck would snap causing almost instant death. I’d rather be noosed up, but if I wanted to choose, maybe I should have hanged when instructed to do so by that weird man on Skype.

“Ok, looks like I’m next to turn the corner” my new and last friend said.

When she went through the corner she opened her eyes wide and gasped.

“I can’t really tell, but we are going to be upside down, '' she told me while keeping her neck high to see above the line of stretchers.

Then I started hearing mechanical sounds and the alarm went off one more time.

“Ohhh I see now. It’s a beheading. They are gonna cut our heads off. There’s a machine that does that… it’s quite fast”.

“They are going to behead us?” I replied. My mouth was dry.

“Yep, they put you upside down… you’ll see, it’s not a long line to the machine from this point. I’m actually third in line now… or second, if she is done”.

We were moved once again and it was my turn to see things now. The first woman in line now was already upside down next to the machine. A headless body was hanging just to her right, upside down and bleeding into a hole in the ground below.

My friend’s metal frame was hooked as well, ready to be pulled up by the legs.

Then the mechanical sounds started again. The first woman in line struggled a bit when she approached the final position. Then a bucket came from below and covered her head up to the neck. A green led light on the side of the machine went red and a couple of blades swung over the bucket cutting her head clean off. We heard the head thump in the bucket and the wash of blood filling it rapidly. The bucket moved downwards and under our line of sight revealing what was now a headless body. Blood kept falling from the severed neck into the hole on the ground as pee started to fall from her pussy and roll over the dead body.

“Ok, nice speaking to you” my east european friend told me as the machine pulled her up vertically and she hung upside down. And I was almost entirely up as well.

“Me t… me too” I gasped. I felt horrified, scared, and vaguely aroused. I didn’t anticipate any of that. I thought that my demise was gonna be more personal, maybe a hot executioner, maybe filmed for other people's enjoyment. It was, however, just a technical operation to transform me into a dead body. It wasn’t about me and my enjoyment, it was about producing corpses to be used for art. We moved once again and I was next in line. My friend was already in position as the bucket moved and covered her face. I realized at that point that she had massive breasts and, being held upside down, they were almost touching the bucket.

“Oh God…” I heard her say in the bucket as the led turned red and the blades removed her head.

“Close call” told an operator watching the beheading close by. We almost ruined her tits. We went that close to having to trash this body, same as yesterday” he told authoritatively to his co-workers. Next one doesn’t have any trouble in that department, hey Mark can you check the rest of the line and mark the ones that are at risk? Thank you”. Mark obeyed and he walked off.

I was now fully in position and next to die. My eyes crossed the woman on my left, whom I didn’t pay attention to at all. “Hi” I said in embarrassment. “Sorry” I added blushing. Or maybe it was just my blood going to my head being upside down.

She ignored me as the bucket came up and covered my vision. The smell of blood and piss was making me almost throw up.

I could see the light reflection in the bucket turning from green to red. “Ok, I’m going to die now” I tought with a faint smile on my lips.

As the alarm went off, I fell into the bucket. “The metal rings have failed” I thought panicking the blades would attempt to cut through my chest. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I’m sorry!” I tried to say. But I couldn't move my lips. “Is that drug effect still back? And why are they washing me now?”

I could barely see from my eyes as they were half closed and with no intention of opening up more. The liquid dripping from above covered my mouth but I didn’t struggle for breathing. I didn’t need to, somehow. Then, as the bucket moved, I got a glimpse of what looked like me still hung upside down. I had been beheaded, and was still conscious. It was true that you kept conscious.

I was horrified and couldn’t wait to die. After seconds of terror, my vision got blurry and reduced to a little white dot before dissolving.

--

A selfie of me kissing towards the camera was posted on my Instagram feed shortly after. “Hi! If you are reading this, it means I volunteered for the Corpses Exhibition! We are going live on March 1st in Paris and you will find me there. I volunteered and got killed just today. But it was a happy ending, so don’t be sad and please visit me at my new home! When you are there, search the index for model 2284. I’m a model finally! #justkidding #justsnuffed”

When my friend Sara went to visit the exhibition with her husband, she didn’t know how she felt. She knew I volunteered, yet she couldn’t see why I would voluntarly kill myself before my 40s. At the entrance she looked at the index and found me in hall number 5.

She paid the ticket and rushed through the rooms saving to see the rest of the exhibition for later. When she entered room 5, she witnessed a gigantic reproduction of an amazon fight scene. My severed head was on display on a spike in the background. As for my headless body, it was probably one of the many layed on the ground in various positions.

“Little perverted cunt” she said to herself, snapping a picture of my head in the background.

“The length someone will go to get some attention!” she wrote on the picture before posting that in her stories. After 24 hours, she was back at home and on her profile the story disappeared.