I'm back again... I managed to find my way onto a computer. I'm thankful for that. I don't get much of a chance to write these days.
I wouldn't call myself "on the run", but it's just a lot safer if some people don't see me. I managed to talk my way out of that damn place I was in last week; I'm so good with people, it's scary.
Well, scary could be considered what I've done to... hmm... should I call 'em victims? I dunno. My subjects? Yeah, that's more appropriate.
Okay, on to what I went through this bullshit for in the first place. I feel the need to release these demons inside me. I've taken so many lives, one could compare me to Bundy or Dahmer and call them pussy little faggots in comparison. What I've done to my people makes Manson look like Micheal J. Fox.
Maybe a little background information on myself wouldn't hurt. If you knew more about me, you might actually like me. My name is Martin. I'm a nice guy, or at least I like to think. I grew up in the city, but spent a lot of time outside of it during the summers and Christmas. I was never picked on as a child, but I never had a lot of friends. My parents have always been good to me and my sisters (i'm the only boy), and I don't ever remember any unkind words being thrown my way.
All in all, I guess you could say I had a pretty sensible and normal childhood. I never killed puppies, I never pulled the wings off of flies or tortured anything. As a matter of fact, I'd always be greatly saddened if I happened to come across a bird with a broken wing.
Ask my mom; I was constantly bringing home stray animals or anything that needed help.
High school wasn't much different. People liked me, I guess, but they also didn't pay a lot of attention to me. Not for lack of trying on my part; I just blended in. I consider myself to be of average looks. I've always flown just under the radar.
Maybe that's why people never ever suspected me of doing what I've done until I finally got caught. But we'll talk about THAT later. For now, I just need to tell you about some of the things I've done. The last time I was here, I do believe I mentioned the first time I killed someone. There was no rhyme or reason behind killing her; a voice inside me just told me that she had to be killed. And kill that little bitch, I did.
I've never been selective. I have raped old men, I have killed young girls. When the urge hits, I just do what I'm told. Think of Bruce Banner turning into the Hulk. It's like there's a green monster inside me. The only difference is that when I change, it's all on the inside.
The second time I took a life, I came in my pants. It was the most intense orgasm I've ever experienced in my life.
What happened was this: I was waiting for the bus one day, and a... hmm... I use the term loosely here... gentleman came up to me asking for a cigarette. He wasn't really that much of a man, considering he was wearing lipstick and eyeliner. My first thought was that he was a faggot. Did I mention that I hate fags? Well I do. I'm not big on niggers either.
But that's besides the point.
The green monster knocked at the door, and I answered. I had to come up with a plan quickly, so I struck up a harmless conversation with the guy, with it ending in me inviting him back to my apartment. He thankfully obliged.
What is it with these fags anyway? Are they really that hard up that they'll fuck just anybody? I don't get it. Queers have always blown my mind. I don't understand them. Sometimes you just know when somebody wants to fuck you.
When we got back to my place, I locked the door behind me and grabbed his cock. With that, he took it as a sign I wished to be kissed.
Not exactly.
I played along for a bit, and when his pants were off, I pushed him down onto my couch and made as if I was going to suck him off. Well, I did have him in my mouth, but it was by no means a pleasure for him. I bit down as hard as I could, and chomped his own personal shit disturber clean off.
Now, anyone who knows anything about anatomy knows that if a dude's got a raging hard-on, it means his heart is gonna be racing.
And what happens when a racing heart comes into play with a wide-open wound? Yep. Blood splatter.
I guess it wasn't an issue, because, well, I wasn't gonna get caught. Not for this guy.
But people know about it now, because I feel the need to release my demons. I'll be brought to justice eventually, but until then, I'll just talk about these people. It's a good way to kill some time.
So El Faggo starts to scream... I took his now dismembered member, and shoved it into his throat. And what happens when you get something put into your mouth that shouldn't be there? You choke. Who would've thought a dick was a better sound muffler than a sock? Well it is. I guess the fact that my hands were around his throat helped, too. To look into someone's eyes while you have your hands around their throat is almost liberating. To have that control... It made me extremely aroused.
I was hard as a rock... I didn't need to touch myself to know how hard I was. The look in his eye was one of terror, pain, and "Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to deserve this, man?"
At what seemed like the very instant I saw the life flicker from his eyes, I came in my pants. It was one of those "eyes roll up in the back of your head, every toe and finger involuntarily tighten" orgasms that you read about in the porno magazines.
If you've ever choked someone, and I doubt you have, something funny happens to their eyeballs. They turn reddish and bloodshot. That's what I read, anyhow, and, well, I guess I read right this time. It was actually really fun to see.
The blood had severely slowed from the gushing waterfall of his crotch wound earlier at this point, as well. I guess it was due to his heart not beating. That might have something to do with it.
But it hadn't stopped. Gravity is a real bitch. I had to move the body into my bathroom to do what else I wanted to do.
I was still pretty hard, believe it or not. I still had some life in me, if you will. Not like this soon to be dismembered body.
It didn't really take much as far as an effort goes to haul him into the bathroom. Adrenaline is a funny thing.
After I had him tossed into the tub, I went a-searchin' for a sharp enough knife with which to take off his arms and legs.
And with much work, it happened... But a thought struck me when his left arm was removed. I've done the whole "stranger" technique when it comes to masturbation before... You know; you sit on your hand until it falls asleep, then jack off. It kinda feels like a stranger is doing it.
Well, I took that one step further.
I took this guy's arm, and formed his hand into a position all men are familiar with. So I jerked off with the dismembered hand, and came all over the place where his dick used to be. That was the second most intense orgasm of my life.
And, well, I kinda lost interested after that. Jerking off on a dead guy's body with his own dismembered hand can take a lot out of you.
I don't need to spare you the details of how I got rid of the body. Let's just say I highly doubt it's ever gonna be found.
Well, it seems I've gotta get going again. I'm not really too sure about this café. I just got a really really suspicious look from someone. To tell you the truth, I think it was the bus driver that was on the route that day me and El Faggo took the bus back to my place.
I'll be back as soon as I can, though. I have much more to talk about.
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