To this day, even though I was alone, that was the best sex I’ve had.
PART 5
I feel as if I’m imprisoned in my own mind. Am I sorrowful for what I’ve done? Hell no! Not in the least. I’m sad I didn’t do more. My shadow follows me around as a reminder of the past life that I could have lived more to the fullest. I could have, no, I SHOULD have killed more than I did. My rage fueled me. It was my life force. My Mother, my Father. My God. The child I only dreamed of giving life to. Hell, everyone knows if I’d have helped bring life into the world, I’d have just eaten it. Fucking scrambled eggs and brains, man. That’s the shit. Fucking A.
I would often sit alone tearing at my skin, trying to scratch away the disease I knew coursed through my veins. I was the disease. I was only trying to destroy myself. One time I scratched away so deep that I saw bone. Tension flowed through me, desperation, pain, a hunger for so much more than I was able to receive from around me. I wanted more. Always.
You’re thinking I’m just rambling on like a mad man. I know what you’re thinking. I ought to rip your soul from you just for thinking that about me. I can do that you know. Rip your soul from you. I’ve done it before. Fucking rip your soul from right out of your beautifully moist skin, and oh how moist it looks today. First I’d cut you across your forehead nice and slow. I’d want you to feel it. Your pain would have given me an erection in my younger years. Pull the skin back enough to get a good grip on it, and slide it down your face. I’ve skinned bodies almost completely this way before. I know it sounds impossible, but I promise with enough practise, it can be done.
I’d lick you slowly from feet to groin, groin to eyes. The eyes are amazing. I bet yours are juicy. They look like they are as you watch me. You’re not saying much. Are you speechless now? You had so much to say before you came in here? Why so quiet now? Have I gotten your tongue already?
PART 6
I went back to find my Mother later on. I was probably twenty or so. Fucking whore. Daddy had died it seemed, and she was on top of some drunk fucking away as I looked in the window of my old childhood home that night. Pissed me off.
Rabbits are a nice addition to any meal. You can make a nice gravy and put over them as you stew them down. I love rabbit stew over rice. It’s amazing.
I stormed in the door. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman?” I asked her. She looked me right in the eyes and asked me “Who are you?” She didn’t recognize her own son! I was more than furious now. The man stumbled up, fell right over immediately, and I kicked the shit out of him. He curled up like a drunk child. Cried like the little bitch he was. I slapped my Mama right in the face and knocked her in the floor. I walked right over to that man and stomped right down on top of his head. Crushed the damn thing right in the floor.
You know what my favorite flower is? Roses. I love yellow roses. They are so beautiful. I saw them on a grave one time that I visited. I wish I had some roses in my cell. They sure would brighten this place up wouldn’t they?
Anyway, what was I saying? Yeah, Mama. I fucked her. Sure did. Fucked my own Mama. Slit her throat too. Then fucked that hole as well. I was horny, so I thought, fuck it you know?
Yeah, looking back on it now, I can laugh about it, but good Lord was I mad at the time. I do miss my Mama, though. Funny thing, though. To have had four kids, the bitch had a tight pussy. Yeah, sure did.
PART 7
I had kitchen duty one time. I say “one time”, because after what I did, that’s all they’d give me. I never had it again.
The food here has never been good. As I said, I’ve been here fifty years, and there are times we get potatoes with maggots in them.
Speaking of maggots, I walked into a barn one time and found a dead calf. Maggots crawling all over the thing. It was probably the coldest night I can remember in my life and I didn’t have a blanket one. All there was in the barn was the hay and what was left of that calf. I did the only logical thing I could do, and lay as close as I could to the maggot infested calf and covered myself in hay. I’ll admit the smell was bad. I’m not going to lie about that. As it grew dark, I could no longer see the calf in front of me. The smell was the only thing reminding me of what I was lying there with. If I closed my eyes, it was almost as if I was huddled up with a smelly woman. The more I thought about that, the more intriguing the thought of it being a sexy woman behind the smell it became. I finally gave in and unzipped my pants. At first I only masturbated at the fantasy in my mind, but eventually the fantasy wasn’t enough and I quickly found a hole within the cavity of the calf.
As I was saying, when I had kitchen duty, I thought I’d fix up some of the food for the guards. I was in charge of making the sandwiches that day. I was lucky enough that it happened to be peanut butter sandwich day. You can probably guess what I did. Needless to say, the guards were not too happy with a mouth full of shit butter. I sat in the hole for two weeks. The beating I received was quite pleasurable however. I think I came four times as they hit me. It made the experience all worth it.
PART 8
I know as you listen to my story, you’re wondering what the point of it is. I’m telling you all of these things that I’ve done for a reason. There is a purpose in all things. Even me.
Let me tell you about this bitch I ate out one time. Fat girl, thick thighs, sweaty ass, musty smelling puss, but I couldn’t get enough of it. As I came up for air each time with her vag juices dripping from my lips, gasping for air from the stench of her ass, I couldn’t help but wonder how I got so lucky to be with a woman of such a high caliber. I went down for one last go of it and she said, “I have something special for you baby.” Hell yeah, I was thinking. Shit, she farted right in my face. Yeah, you can laugh. It was actually funny. Stunk to high heaven though. That’s not the bad part however. A small bit of shit poked it’s head out of her ass hole and right into my open mouth. I sat up, spit it on her, and said, “Damn woman, eat yourself out. You just shit in my mouth.”
Good times, good times.
PART 9
I kidnapped the sheriff’s child while she was playing in the park one Saturday morning. Man was she a pretty little thing. Had the whitest skin. I didn’t know who she was. Big fucking mistake. Someone apparently saw me and they came right to me the next day. Damnest thing though. I’d already made a sandwich out of her.
“Joe!”
“Yes Ma’am?”
“What are you telling these kids?”
“Just to stay in school and don’t do drugs.”
“I leave you for twenty minutes…”
“Well I’m behind bars, ma’am. I can’t get to them.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“Well, I ain’t told them nothin’ but that, now have I kids?”
“Why’s that one cryin’ for, then?”
“Must have got somethin’ in her eye.”
“Uh huh. Let’s go kids. Just remember whatever he said. You don’t want to end up here with people like him. Right?”
“Stay off those streets now, kids! Remember what I said, and enjoy the rest of your tour.”
Rabbits and yellow roses. I love the two of those things more than anything.
PART VI
IN DEATH
Of all the times Jeremiah had fucked a dead animal in the ditch on a backwoods country dirt road, this particular rabbit felt as pleasant to his dick as his dog Sassy’s wet canine pussy. His obsession with the deceased of any species started at an early age. As he sat in the funeral home parlor, visitors entering one by one to get one last glimpse of his dead Aunt Wilma, all thirteen year old Jeremiah could think about was how much more beautiful the old bag was dead, than she was alive. As he sat in the old blue worn out and tattered chair his Mother had placed him in that night, he began to get an erection.
“She looks so peaceful, doesn’t she?”Jeremiah would hear people say as they viewed his Aunt. He’d watch as they’d touch her skin, or stroke her hair one last time. He b
egan to sweat as his beautiful cousin Jamie walked up to tell her Mother one last goodbye. Jamie, with tears rolling down her cheeks, leaned in to kiss her Mother, lying so peacefully in death, and as she placed that gentle kiss upon her, Jeremiah ejaculated. Having never experienced such an unusual sensation in his growing region before, Jeremiah leaped up from his chair, and rushed from the room.
“The poor child has taken this so hard,”Jeremiah’s mother said to the other visitors. “He loved his Aunt Wilma dearly.”
“Uh, uh, uhhhh!”The satisfaction of ejaculating into a dead carcass, at least in Jeremiah’s eyes, was a beautiful thing. For one, they never complained, or moved for that matter, and secondly…well, it just felt damn good. At least to Jeremiah it did. He’d obviously never tried to convince anyone else to fuck anything dead. Although some of the girls he’d been around lately sure gave him the stare of death. In retrospect, they may as well be as dead as the rabbit he’d just finished fucking. At least the rabbit didn’t complain about his dick size.
Jeremiah tosses the rabbit into the bushes, pushes his penis back into his pants, and begins his walk back to the car. As he reaches his car, a black two thousand Ford Mustang coupe, he reaches into his right pants pocket for his keys, and stops as he feels a wetness within his hand. Jeremiah raises his hand up to see what was on it.
“Fuck me!”he says realizing he’d gotten semen and blood on himself. “How am I supposed to go to church like this?”
Being the pastor of the local First Baptist church, Jeremiah had a responsibility to be on time, even early, for each service in order to greet each member as they entered the sanctuary. At the age of forty, leading a congregation of four hundred was a large responsibility, and one that he didn’t often take lightly. Jeremiah had his issues, but he loved his God.
Jeremiah arrives at church in time to greet the first arrival of his congregation. Stopping back by his home to change hadn’t taken up to much of his time, or put him off schedule for the morning.
“Good morning Mrs. Johnson,”Jeremiah says as he greets the widow of what had once been his oldest deacon.
“Good morning Pastor. How are you on this lovely Sunday morning?”she asks.
“I’m great, God bless you,”he says. She walks inside as Tim Smithers and his family begin to enter the church as well. Jeremiah and Tim had been friends for years, yet Tim had no idea of his Pastor’s dark desires. “Good morning, and how are you Ms. Alice?”Jeremiah asks Tim’s youngest daughter. She was six, and cute as a button, as Mrs. Johnson liked to always say of her.
“Good,”Alice replies with an obvious shyness.
“Well that’s good sweetie,”Jeremiah extends his hand in fellowship to Tim, and he grasp it in return. “It’s good to have you and your family this morning as always Brother.”
“And it’s good to be here,”Tim replies as he and his family continue their path inside the church.
Jeremiah continues to greet members and guest alike, until his watch indicates that it’s time to begin the mornings services. He preaches his usual fire and brimstone message, converting five people after the service in salvation, leading everyone to say “Praise the Lord” and satisfying him that it was another successful Sunday. Everyone parts ways, and Jeremiah locks the doors to go home.
Jeremiah lived alone. A single man, he had no one to answer to other than the deacons of his church, and he felt that they were a bunch of assholes. If he could stick his finger up the ass of Deacon Wayne, he’d gladly snatch his rectum out, and gleefully lick it clean in front of him. He was the biggest fucktard of all of them. Set in his ways, he’d never budge on any topic that was up for debate, regardless of the wishes of the rest of the group. A rectal cleansing indeed.
As Jeremiah sat in his favorite chair just inside his livingroom, he turns his television to his favorite outdoor channel. He loved to watch the outdoor shows that often depicted hunters killing and harvesting their prey. As he begins to watch one such hunter begin to proudly display his kill, the antlered head held high in display for the television audience to see, Jeremiah unzips his pants and removes his engorged member. He reaches over to a bottle of lotion that sits on a table by his chair, squeezes a small amount into his palm, and begins to rhythmically stroke his penis.
“This buck was a good hundred and fifty yards.” Jeremiah listens attentively as the hunter speaks, “..and he’s quite the bleeder. The shot went through clean,” as the camera zoomed in on the carcass of the deer and the wound in which the gunshot had made, Jeremiah quickly comes, his semen spraying uncontrollably onto his shirt. The remainder lay dripping from his fingers. He places his hand to his lips, placing his fingers into his mouth, and removes any traces of the remaining semen.
Turning off the television, Jeremiah zips his pants back up, and tilts his head back for an afternoon nap.
Being a full time Pastor, other than his normal ministerial duties, Jeremiah’s calendar for most weeks was mostly free for him to do with as he wished. Wash his car, mow the lawn, fuck a rabbit, buy groceries, do odd jobs for the elderly members of his congregation, fuck another random dead animal, you know, the normal things people do in their free time. He always tried his best to remain as busy as possible. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” he always said to himself.
In remaining busy, Jeremiah enjoyed raising rabbits, both for food and for sale. New Zealand rabbits were his breed of choice, not only for their size and meat consistency, but because they made great sexual partners. He wasn’t a cruel man. Jeremiah never fucked a live animal. He would never even consider placing such torment upon a sweet innocent rabbit. However, the ones he sold to people for food consumption, he would often engage in intercourse with upon it’s demise just before butchering, and sometimes during. He felt the rabbits blood often made for a great lubricant during those “dry” times in which it was most useful.
On this particular morning, as in most mornings, Jeremiah rises to an early breakfast of his usual eggs and black cup of coffee, eats, and walks out into the backyard to tend to his rabbits. A neighbor of his had placed an order for a dozen to be butchered and ready for the freezer by mid afternoon, which meant Jeremiah has a lot of work to do to be ready for his arrival.
He begins to dispatch of each large rabbit, one by one, and with each kill, his member begins to grow erect with a burning passion. Jeremiah grabs at his crotch with his hand, adjusting his penis within his pants into a more comfortable position. As he reaches the end of his count of one dozen, he’s had all he can take and unzips his pants, letting his erect cock briskly flop out of hiding. He holds the carcass of the final remaining rabbit in front of him with both hands, gently spreads it’s rear opening as wide as he can, and slides it over the girth of his member. As he slides the rabbit up and down the length of his cock, Jeremiah moans with an intense sensation of pleasure, blood beginning to drip from the back end of the animal and onto the ground.
“Pastor?” a sound of surprise and shock calls from the doorway of the rabbit pen. Jeremiah turns in shock, noticing a member of his congregation has come for an unexpected visit. With a rabbit handing off of the end of his dick, Jeremiah stands in silence as if he were a deer caught in the headlights of a vehicle in the dark of a cold winter’s night.
“Shit!” Jeremiah finally manages to yell out as he removes the rabbit from the end of his penis and tosses it to the ground. “It’s not what you think Mrs. Johnson! I swear!”
“Then what is it?” Mrs. Johnson asks as she turns to walk away in complete disgust.
“No! You can’t go without me explaining!” What was there to explain? He was fucking a rabbit for Christ sake. He wanted to at least try. “Mrs. Johnson, come back!” Jeremiah briskly walks after her, trying his best to zip back up.
“You just wait until I tell the deacons about this! You’re done! You..are..DONE!” she exclaims. As Jeremiah walks by his tool shed, still following close behind Mrs. Johnson, he picks up a hammer.
“Please, I beg of
you! Stop!”
“I have never in my life!” she says.
“This is the last time I’m going to ask you to please stop!” Jeremiah pleads with her again as she continues to ignore him.
“You are one of the most ungodly men I’ve ever seen Pastor! No, you’re no Pastor of mine!” she exclaims.
“Mrs. Johnson, shut the hell up, or I’m going to pull your uterus out of your ass and force feed you the shit covered son of a bitch!”
“Well!” she says.
As she reaches her car door and begins to lift the handle, Jeremiah raises the hammer above his head.
“I told you to stop and listen to me you old fuck!” he swings the hammer, hitting her in the top of her head. Mrs. Johnson turns around and faces her Pastor, staring at him eye to eye, and begins to hold her head in pain. “You just wouldn’t listen to me! You did this!” Jeremiah says as he brings the hammer down into her head again, this time directly implying impact to her eye socket. Mrs. Johnson falls to the ground, her eyeball lying on the cheek of her face. “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I’m going to fuck you up bitch!” She begins to cry and make whimpering sounds in obvious pain as Jeremiah continues his onslaught of hits to her already battered head with his hammer. With her brains scattered upon the ground, he was finally satisfied she’d had enough, and was dead.
“Fucking bitch!” Jeremiah says as he pulls his pants down, knells over the old ladies crushed in face, and takes a large shit. Taking her lifeless frail hand within his, he wipes his ass clean of any remaining feces, and pulls his pants back up. He turns and looks down at what he’d just done. “Now what the fuck am I supposed to do with you now?” Maybe he should have thought of that before he killed Mrs. Johnson, but being the psychotic fuck he was, he’d failed to.
The SICK Chronicles: An Anthology of Extreme Violence and Gore Page 9