Dexter: The Unaired Episode

Surprisingly some of you actually like my short stories. See Pulp Fiction under CATEGORIES on the right of this page for my efforts so far. A few even challenged me to write a horror one with sexual elements. So here’s one more very pathetic attempt at short story writing; this time a macabre story of murder and madness. WARNING: it’s rather sick – at the request of some of you – and it is strictly for adults only, so please don’t read further if you puke easily or if you are a minor:

With that final twist of my knife, her fate was sealed.

The incineration was easy. The body was gone in a matter of minutes.

I had smuggled the body in earlier, and when the last cremation was over, and the friends and family of the deceased had left – after their long, teary good byes, oh how boring! – I slipped the body in, and cremated it.

Next, I smashed the bones, so the next day, no one would have known that the remains were that of two bodies.

At my age, and with a horrific weeping scar on my chest that refuses to heal, it has been hard to get girls. Even the drug-crazed hookers don’t want to entertain me, despite my offering to pay double their rates. The moment I take off my shirt and they see that wet, seeping, pus-oozing wound on my chest, they recoil in terror and flee.

Damn Zain, I’ll get him one day for slashing me like that in a bar brawl. But that’s another story for another time.

So where to get girls?

Thank goodness I volunteer at the mortuary.

If you don’t mind necrophilia, dead bodies are actually quite do-able.

For one, they don’t complain.

And lucky are those days when the young ones, are brought in, still warm and soft.

Before rigor mortis sets in.

Most times I would just mount one and ejaculated right inside the dead bitch.

Five-minute job.

Well, the room is always chilly and it smells of formaldehyde – certainly no honeymoon suite – but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.

Once there even brought in Maria, a neighbor’s wife – a hot slut I had fantasized about for a good number of groin-stirring years. A glimpse of that “pussy floss” of a G-string she wore would drive me to a masturbating frenzy. Ohhh, horny Maria, oozing with sultriness. Every pore of her lithe body just asking for it. The perfect anodyne to my meaningful existence.

Ah, there is a god in heaven after all; I was able to hump her good and proper. Even came all over her face, into her mouth too. Kept her for as long as possible in the fridge and re-used her several times. Until officialdom dictated that the body had to be released.

Just as well, she was turning green already anyway.

And she was starting to smell too.

Ok, it was mostly a one-way thing, no moans of passion, no groans and throes of pleasure from the other party.

So what?

In a sense I’ve been “doing” necrophilia since I married my wife Patricia.

Patricia was totally unresponsive. Said it was unbecoming of a decent woman to enjoy sex, to let herself go.

Said her priest told her so.

Yeah some advice from celibate old men who ream altar boys’ asses.

What the hell.

Sex with Pat was like riding a piece of meat.

Only difference was that a piece of meat was often much more fun.

But meat was expensive.

Pat didn’t cost me anything.

Then Pat walked into a truck.

Oh well.

Had to look for new outlets to vent my lust.

The first one I did was a very young teenager who died of some sickness. There were no visible injuries of any kind, so it must had been some illness.

I read from her toe tag that she was 17. She looked so alive. Rosy, pink cheeks and all. She was still warm when they brought her in. And her cheeks weren’t the only body parts of hers that were pink.

And oh my god, she was a virgin too. What luck! In this day and age and all that…

Kinda messy trying to get my soft dick hard enough to penetrate a tight virgin twat but I finally did it. Boy was it divine; I must have shot wads of cum into her that time.

I almost died when I heard the door creak just as I was pulling my then flaccid manhood out of her. I rushed out only to see Yushea slipping away. I caught up with him. Finally I squeezed out from him the information that he had been copulating with corpses too and had been hoping to get to the teenager before me.

“Now I have to dip my dick into a cunt soaked with your cum,” he lamented.

So the myth is true, corpses in mortuaries get fucked by perverts like us.

Some months we go through dry periods – no suitable, or usable,  specimens turned up.

“So what do we do now?” I asked Yushea

He swore me to secrecy but taught me what to do.

Well, I had to buy him two bottles of Wild Turkey.

Now I waylay lonely girls, rape them (so nice to get a reaction after all these days of one-way-ing), kill and cremate them.

Brilliant huh?

Mainly homeless gals no one would miss.

Nevermind if their pussies were loose and they smelled like camel farts.

My name is Dexter.

I am sick.

Look for me at the mental hospital.

They know which ward I’m in.

I’m famous.

Just ask for “Dexter, the mentally ill patient who tried to have sex with a stray dog.”

Don’t take your teenage daughter along when you visit.

Just bring me a Barbie doll.

They’re as good as they come.

Heh, heh, heh, heh.

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