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[Before you can receive your license to own and operate a firearm, you must pass a series of training classes and written exams.]

Kelly finally got to close the door on that annoying guy who delivered her package. Yeah, her Dad knew him and sent him specifically. But he just kept trying to force conversation on her. He used excuses like, ‘This thing isn’t a toy,’ and, ‘You need to know what you’re doing with this or you’ll hurt somebody.’ Like, duh! She wasn’t stupid.

[Regulations and requirements vary from state to state. However, federal law has legal jurisdiction over state law. As such, all federal guidelines for firearm purchases, uses, and education must conform to these laws, regardless of state requirements.]

She walked with haste through the foyer to her den. She was so frustrated with him! He even tried to force his way in. No, creep, she doesn’t need you to ‘teach her the basics of safety,’ while she’s alone in her house. Besides, the whole point of this delivery was so she wouldn’t have to go through all those dumb tests and procedures. They’re boring! Kelly huffed out her frustration and opened the box.

[The first requirement of any reputable, law-abiding firearm course is a classroom session on safely handing and operating firearms. The knowledge of the basics of firearm safety are to be proven by any citizen before they are permitted to handle a firearm for practical training and testing. There are a set of rules that each training course will cover. The verbiage may vary, but the core safety guidelines must be conveyed.]

“Ooooooo, that looks so COOL!” The box contained what she expected it to; a top-of-the-line firearm. But this wasn’t some lame handgun or rifle or something hicks would use; this was a plasma…plasma pistol? No. A plasma gun? Maybe that was it. It had a futuristic look and could be recharged and ran on like, nuclear electricity or something. Kelly picked it up.

[The first rule is as follows: Every firearm is always loaded. It is loaded when you remove the magazine. It is loaded when you have fired all of the ammo in the weapon. It is loaded when you receive it and have never loaded it before. By following this rule of firearm safety, you will always take care in how you handle the firearm and where you point it, thereby drastically reducing the chances of firearm accidents that can and will lead to serious injury or death.]

She turned the gun over. It had the same black metal design on both sides. There was a clear section across the gun, from the back of it to the end of the…nozzle? Wait, she knew this one. The barrel! Yeah, it went down the whole barrel. She could see into the gun. There was some green chamber in it. Probably the electric thing that powered her shots.

[The second rule is as follows: Never point a firearm at anything that you do not want to obliterate. Every firearm is a weapon designed to destroy the target it is facing. It does not know or care what it is aimed at. It does not know or care if it is being aimed. It does not know or care if you wanted to squeeze the trigger. It is a tool that will fire when the trigger is squeezed. It will injure, destroy, or kill what is in front of it when it is fired. Be judicious about where your firearm is pointed at all times.]

Kelly smirked. She adjusted her grip on the gun. One hand held it from under the barrel. The other firmly grasped the grip with her finger over the trigger. She pointed it at make-believe bad guys, squeezed one eye shut, aimed at them, and made a ‘pow’ sound effect as she pretended to shoot each one down. This was so easy to use!

[The third rule is as follows: Every firearm has the safety off. The safety is off even after you turn the safety on. Firearm safety’s cannot be counted on to prevent a firearm from firing. The safety is to be on at all times, until and unless the firearm is about to be fired. Even with perfect safety discipline, every firearm should be considered live at all times, no matter how many times the safety has been verified.]

The self-proclaimed secret agent Kelly was on the move! She posed and dashed around like she saw in the movies. She leaned around corners and took out the imaginary evil henchmen that were patrolling her home. Satisfied with her completed mission, she sauntered back into the den. She held the gun by one hand on the grip and smacked the barrel sideways on her other open palm. The second time she did it, she both felt and heard something click-clack under her palm.

[The fourth rule is as follows: Perfectly practice trigger discipline. You cannot fire a firearm if your finger is not on the trigger. The only time your finger is to be on the trigger is when you are prepared to fire your firearm. At no other point is there to be anything on the trigger, finger or otherwise.]

“Huh? What was that?” Kelly turned the gun over. She noticed a button kind of above the trigger was pressed in. She turned it over again. There was another button on the other side that was pushed out. She pushed it in and heard the click-clack again. Turning it back over revealed that the first button was sticking out. “What the heck is the point of that?”

[This has been an introduction to firearm safety. This is not and cannot be considered a substitute for an authorized firearm safety course. Let this information be the first step to the safe and practical use and treatment of firearms. It is imperative that you continue your education and training with firearms with a legally certified firearm training center.]

Kelly was flip-flopping her gun from side to side, occasionally pressing in one of the two connected buttons. The barrel was pointed upwards and at her with each flip. After pressing in a button, she started to flip it again. The gun slipped and threaten to fall from her hands. She panic-grabbed at it. She caught it around the grip. Her thumb slammed the trigger down. The barrel was pointed at her head. “Shoo—“

[By following firearm safety procedures, you can keep you and yourself safe from the dangers of—]

Kelly had enough time to notice the green light emanating from the sides of the gun and the chamber of the barrel. She heard a sci-fi kind of charging sound. In a split second from her thumb depressing the trigger to a blinding flash, Kelly didn’t have an active thought.

The military grade ARC-20 Plasma Magnum propelled a white-hot payload of fission-torn atoms directly into Kelly’s face at point blank range. The plasma bolt instantly evaporated most of Kelly’s head, maintaining enough force and momentum to sear the rest off of her neck and turn it into a congealed mess of nuclear energy that flew a dozen feet behind her. It splattered across the floor where it landed. Its heat expended itself in seconds, leaving burn marks on the hardwood floor without starting a fire.

Kelly twitched. Her hands no longer knew why they were holding whatever it was they were holding. Her erratic spasms caused the gun to slip between her hands and slam to the ground. Her fingers curled. Her wrists rotated. Her arms flexed and relaxed and flexed again. Her torso leaned in nearly random directions, only changing direction when she threatened to fall over. Her legs stepped almost in place, barely adjusting her position and direction.

Kelly’s neck was the only part of her that wasn’t moving; the stump was burned red and black. Smoke wafted up in a pillar from her wound. Any remnant of evidence that Kelly once had a head was nonexistent.

She bent her arms upwards. She grazed her shoulders with her hands. One, two, three steps backwards; another step to the side. She bent slightly forward. Her fingers slid on the sides of her neck. It felt warm. She brought her hands higher. They landed on her headless neck. It felt hot. There was no pain - those nerves had been burned away. There was no recognition - she was unaware that a crucial part of her body was missing.

Decapitated and directionless, Kelly idled in place. She became confused by her shirt. She grabbed at it and lifted it. She raised one arm out to compensate her balance. Kelly succeeded in pulling her top over her tits and exposing them, but couldn’t understand why the shirt wouldn’t go any higher than her armpits. She wobbled and walked only to stay upright as she repeatedly tried to tug the shirt higher than it could go.

Her random swagger took her sideways into a wall. Her arm rebounded back across her chest. Between the shake from the shirt and the bump from her arm, Kelly’s tits were bouncing around. The sensation caused her to lose focus on the shirt. She let it go. Both of her hands cupped her breasts. She rubbed them. Her nipples perked up in her palms. It felt good, so she kept going. She gripped harder. She sought out her nipples and teased them. Her pleasured gyrations caused her to lose balance and land on her knees, but Kelly continued toying with her tits.

The beheaded bimbo was locked into a world of touch. Nothing else but these sensations mattered. Without a head, she had no idea what the word pleasure meant anymore, but she knew what it felt like, and she knew she wanted more.

(Story to be continued on Patreon)

——————

I will edit this description when I finish writing this and post the rest on Patreon. I won’t risk posting what comes next on DevianArt so I don’t break their terms of service. If you want access to an extended NSFW version of one of my stories, a few dozen images not yet posted to DA, and to be one of the first to read the rest of this when I release it, then join me at Patreon.com/LackingCPU for $3 a month. (Direct links available in my journal posts!)

Description
[Before you can receive your license to own and operate a firearm, you must pass a series of training classes and written exams.]

Kelly finally got to close the door on that annoying guy who delivered her package. Yeah, her Dad knew him and sent him specifically. But he just kept trying to force conversation on her. He used excuses like, ‘This thing isn’t a toy,’ and, ‘You need to know what you’re doing with this or you’ll hurt somebody.’ Like, duh! She wasn’t stupid.

[Regulations and requirements vary from state to state. However, federal law has legal jurisdiction over state law. As such, all federal guidelines for firearm purchases, uses, and education must conform to these laws, regardless of state requirements.]

She walked with haste through the foyer to her den. She was so frustrated with him! He even tried to force his way in. No, creep, she doesn’t need you to ‘teach her the basics of safety,’ while she’s alone in her house. Besides, the whole point of this delivery was so she wouldn’t have to go through all those dumb tests and procedures. They’re boring! Kelly huffed out her frustration and opened the box.

[The first requirement of any reputable, law-abiding firearm course is a classroom session on safely handing and operating firearms. The knowledge of the basics of firearm safety are to be proven by any citizen before they are permitted to handle a firearm for practical training and testing. There are a set of rules that each training course will cover. The verbiage may vary, but the core safety guidelines must be conveyed.]

“Ooooooo, that looks so COOL!” The box contained what she expected it to; a top-of-the-line firearm. But this wasn’t some lame handgun or rifle or something hicks would use; this was a plasma…plasma pistol? No. A plasma gun? Maybe that was it. It had a futuristic look and could be recharged and ran on like, nuclear electricity or something. Kelly picked it up.

[The first rule is as follows: Every firearm is always loaded. It is loaded when you remove the magazine. It is loaded when you have fired all of the ammo in the weapon. It is loaded when you receive it and have never loaded it before. By following this rule of firearm safety, you will always take care in how you handle the firearm and where you point it, thereby drastically reducing the chances of firearm accidents that can and will lead to serious injury or death.]

She turned the gun over. It had the same black metal design on both sides. There was a clear section across the gun, from the back of it to the end of the…nozzle? Wait, she knew this one. The barrel! Yeah, it went down the whole barrel. She could see into the gun. There was some green chamber in it. Probably the electric thing that powered her shots.

[The second rule is as follows: Never point a firearm at anything that you do not want to obliterate. Every firearm is a weapon designed to destroy the target it is facing. It does not know or care what it is aimed at. It does not know or care if it is being aimed. It does not know or care if you wanted to squeeze the trigger. It is a tool that will fire when the trigger is squeezed. It will injure, destroy, or kill what is in front of it when it is fired. Be judicious about where your firearm is pointed at all times.]

Kelly smirked. She adjusted her grip on the gun. One hand held it from under the barrel. The other firmly grasped the grip with her finger over the trigger. She pointed it at make-believe bad guys, squeezed one eye shut, aimed at them, and made a ‘pow’ sound effect as she pretended to shoot each one down. This was so easy to use!

[The third rule is as follows: Every firearm has the safety off. The safety is off even after you turn the safety on. Firearm safety’s cannot be counted on to prevent a firearm from firing. The safety is to be on at all times, until and unless the firearm is about to be fired. Even with perfect safety discipline, every firearm should be considered live at all times, no matter how many times the safety has been verified.]

The self-proclaimed secret agent Kelly was on the move! She posed and dashed around like she saw in the movies. She leaned around corners and took out the imaginary evil henchmen that were patrolling her home. Satisfied with her completed mission, she sauntered back into the den. She held the gun by one hand on the grip and smacked the barrel sideways on her other open palm. The second time she did it, she both felt and heard something click-clack under her palm.

[The fourth rule is as follows: Perfectly practice trigger discipline. You cannot fire a firearm if your finger is not on the trigger. The only time your finger is to be on the trigger is when you are prepared to fire your firearm. At no other point is there to be anything on the trigger, finger or otherwise.]

“Huh? What was that?” Kelly turned the gun over. She noticed a button kind of above the trigger was pressed in. She turned it over again. There was another button on the other side that was pushed out. She pushed it in and heard the click-clack again. Turning it back over revealed that the first button was sticking out. “What the heck is the point of that?”

[This has been an introduction to firearm safety. This is not and cannot be considered a substitute for an authorized firearm safety course. Let this information be the first step to the safe and practical use and treatment of firearms. It is imperative that you continue your education and training with firearms with a legally certified firearm training center.]

Kelly was flip-flopping her gun from side to side, occasionally pressing in one of the two connected buttons. The barrel was pointed upwards and at her with each flip. After pressing in a button, she started to flip it again. The gun slipped and threaten to fall from her hands. She panic-grabbed at it. She caught it around the grip. Her thumb slammed the trigger down. The barrel was pointed at her head. “Shoo—“

[By following firearm safety procedures, you can keep you and yourself safe from the dangers of—]

Kelly had enough time to notice the green light emanating from the sides of the gun and the chamber of the barrel. She heard a sci-fi kind of charging sound. In a split second from her thumb depressing the trigger to a blinding flash, Kelly didn’t have an active thought.

The military grade ARC-20 Plasma Magnum propelled a white-hot payload of fission-torn atoms directly into Kelly’s face at point blank range. The plasma bolt instantly evaporated most of Kelly’s head, maintaining enough force and momentum to sear the rest off of her neck and turn it into a congealed mess of nuclear energy that flew a dozen feet behind her. It splattered across the floor where it landed. Its heat expended itself in seconds, leaving burn marks on the hardwood floor without starting a fire.

Kelly twitched. Her hands no longer knew why they were holding whatever it was they were holding. Her erratic spasms caused the gun to slip between her hands and slam to the ground. Her fingers curled. Her wrists rotated. Her arms flexed and relaxed and flexed again. Her torso leaned in nearly random directions, only changing direction when she threatened to fall over. Her legs stepped almost in place, barely adjusting her position and direction.

Kelly’s neck was the only part of her that wasn’t moving; the stump was burned red and black. Smoke wafted up in a pillar from her wound. Any remnant of evidence that Kelly once had a head was nonexistent.

She bent her arms upwards. She grazed her shoulders with her hands. One, two, three steps backwards; another step to the side. She bent slightly forward. Her fingers slid on the sides of her neck. It felt warm. She brought her hands higher. They landed on her headless neck. It felt hot. There was no pain - those nerves had been burned away. There was no recognition - she was unaware that a crucial part of her body was missing.

Decapitated and directionless, Kelly idled in place. She became confused by her shirt. She grabbed at it and lifted it. She raised one arm out to compensate her balance. Kelly succeeded in pulling her top over her tits and exposing them, but couldn’t understand why the shirt wouldn’t go any higher than her armpits. She wobbled and walked only to stay upright as she repeatedly tried to tug the shirt higher than it could go.

Her random swagger took her sideways into a wall. Her arm rebounded back across her chest. Between the shake from the shirt and the bump from her arm, Kelly’s tits were bouncing around. The sensation caused her to lose focus on the shirt. She let it go. Both of her hands cupped her breasts. She rubbed them. Her nipples perked up in her palms. It felt good, so she kept going. She gripped harder. She sought out her nipples and teased them. Her pleasured gyrations caused her to lose balance and land on her knees, but Kelly continued toying with her tits.

The beheaded bimbo was locked into a world of touch. Nothing else but these sensations mattered. Without a head, she had no idea what the word pleasure meant anymore, but she knew what it felt like, and she knew she wanted more.

(Story to be continued on Patreon)

——————

I will edit this description when I finish writing this and post the rest on Patreon. I won’t risk posting what comes next on DevianArt so I don’t break their terms of service. If you want access to an extended NSFW version of one of my stories, a few dozen images not yet posted to DA, and to be one of the first to read the rest of this when I release it, then join me at Patreon.com/LackingCPU for $3 a month. (Direct links available in my journal posts!)