The Murderer

He was born normally.

There were no special circumstances. His birth was natural, his mother did not need a C-section. Although his birth weight did cause a little bit of hardship to his mother, in the end, his cries echoed throughout the procedure room, he brought happiness and relief to the doctors, nurses and his parents.

That was 18 years ago.

He spent his childhood under utmost care.

Since he was an only child, his father and mother were strict but thoughtful.

They gave him anything he wanted and disciplined him when needed. His parents created an environment where he could develop to his fullest potential.

Thanks to their guidance, he did not become a spoiled child. He knew what to do and how to behave like a good child.

When he went to kindergarten, kids were always nice to him. Toys were always given to him first, and he was always the first for dodgeball.

His primary school years were nothing but an easy game for him. He aced everything. From sports to studies, there was nothing that could hold him down.

The same trend continued to his secondary school years. He was growing. Tall, handsome, athletic and famous, girls were attracted to him like bees to honey. He tried going out of a few, but he felt that something was off about it. But he quickly threw it over his shoulders. He thought that he was just feeling weird because of the new experiences.

When he discussed his weird feeling with his parents, they were glad that he talked to them, and they gave him a good and thorough lesson concering the birds and the bees.

Thanks to them, he understood that it was not necessarily weird for him to feel like that. What they taught him was not exactly what he was feeling, but he believed that when he got bigger, that would change.

His secondary years ended with a few break ups, he was not particularly sad. He was not expecting something to last in the first place, so that much was fine to him.

When he reached sixteen, his friends would openly start discussing matters concerning the types of women that they liked. Some preferred people with bigger bust, some preferred a bigger waist, some preferred to look at feet.

He did not have a preference.

For some reason, there was no sexual attraction to all of the mentioned aspects of a woman. He usually would laugh it of when people asked him the question or tried to talk about a generic fetish such as big bust.

One day, a close friend of him asked how many times he was masturbating per day. He was speechless, because he had never done something like that before. However, he did not want to create suspicion, so her just answered 3. To which his friend looked at him in the eyes and said.

"That little?"

"Yeah, I don't have that much need."

The same question was asked to other boys. And their answers were always higher than his.

He was a little perplexed, so he kept his mouth shut when people were talking about the 'material' that they used. Anytime one boy mentioned something mildly sexual or a name of a pornstar, the rest of them would act like they were professors of adultery, saying their thoughts and giving comments. Not him. He did not know what to add, so he kept his words to himself.

He knew there was something strange. Of course he used the internet, of coursr he searched on some of the best pornography site out there for something that would help. It was of no use.

Being the handsome guy he was, once more he was famous at highschool. Again, he was going out with someone. He chose to go out with a beautiful girl who had a nice body and thought that if they were to have intercourse, maybe he would find what he was lacking. Since images and videos on the internet were not helping his condition.

It did progressed to that point. They were about to have sex. After kissing for a while, the girl took of her clothes and started playing with his private.

She tried everything that she learned on the internet, also with her previous partners.

There was no use. He did not get up.

"Sorry, this is my first time, so I'm really nervous." He told her. Thankfully, the girl believed, and told him she was glad that she was his first, and that she was going to make it work.

The second time, and then the third, and then the fourth.

Nothing.

He was devastated. For a teenager at his age to get something like an erectile dysfunction, he was living in agony.

He went to the doctor, who said there was no problem with his body. It was mentally, not physically.

It was a tough time for him.

News spreaded fast, he was soon known as 'incompetence'. A smart and handsome straight guy with a faulty fuse. An alpha male without a mean to spread his seeds is only a male. His friends looked at him with with empathy, his girlfriend broke up with him. He was once the prodigy, the best of the best, and he has fallen from grace. The higher he climbed, the harder he falled. His social position dropped drastically, to the point he was looking to end his own life.

He searched on the internet for suicide methods. That was when he got onto the suicide support forum.

There was a special type of suicide prevention, in which people showed methods and the after images of a successful suicide. Bodies of decomposing flesh and bones, bodies of jumping suicide, wrist cutting, he saw all of them.

And he got an erection.

He cried that night.

He cried because he knew he was sick. The kind of sickness that could not be cured. He cried because there was no way for him to have a normal life, marry a normal person, and have children.

But the raging feeling of his crotch was stronger than ever. He never felt such a pulse coming from that place. He never knew his member could stand so strong and firm.

He did what he saw on the internet.

He masturbated.

It was the best kind of feeling. It was orgasmic.

Inside his emotion spectrum, a spark appeared. It was 'lust'.

The moment of his ejaculation, he felt calm.

Sadness quickly enveloped his body. To get rid of the feeling, he continued masturbating.

It was a vicious cycle. He would get a moment of clarity, then sadness, then clarity, then sadness.

The more he pleasured himself, the more he felt sad.

He needed a way. He needed to find a permanent solution.

A few days passed, and he had been masturbating non-stop to dead female corpses. He found that his best 'material' was from someone who cut herself recently.

His preference was someone who had died with her full body intact.

He started searching. He tried to search the local paper for suicides, he tried to find the best real life 'material'. He also needed a way to steal the corpse.

And then, it came to him.

Why not volunteered to work in the cemetery?

He was at the good age, and it was the profession not many would do.

That was what he did.

Soon after, a perfect 'material' was found.

'She' was a perfect match for him. Recently deceased, full body, still not a lot of decomposition, beautiful and a nice body. She died because of a cheating husband.

He thanked the husband. And then punched himself in the face for the thought. He knew he was disgusting and filthy, but the needs just got the better of him.

On the day the body was lowered into the ground, he dugged it up at night. The whole process took him just a few minutes even when he was all alone and had only a shovel. Somehow, strength was filling his entire body. His 'lust' was giving him tremendous stamina.

One family member came back to mourn for the young lady who died young, only to find it completely stolen and the care taker already gone.

That was the start of the necrophile.

The body was violated. Ten times, twenty times, it was uncountable. Until the face was no longer recognizable, he kept on having sex with it. Each time, it would make him plunge deeper into sadness and clarity.

There was no going back.

And he wanted more.

He wanted a fresh, warm body.

It started in the red light district, where people would go out late at night.

He had some money, so he called a prostitute.

They went to the love hotel.

First, the lady did everything to him but he did not get an erection. She was a little frustrated in her skills. Then, he told her that he would only get hard when she was tied up and blindfolded.

Being a pro in her business, the lady happily obliged. She was cuffed to the bed naked. Her eyes were covered by an eye mask.

He knew what he did was wrong. But his lust won the game.

He could always cry alone later, but he needed to quench his thirst. He made his way on to her, his body already naked. The lady, although a bit nervous because she was seeing darkness, did not say anything and waited for him to get ready.

His heart was pumping hard, blood was running all across his body. Adrenaline rushed into every fiber of his body.

He touched her slender legs first, and started to move up to her stomach.

To his touch, sensual moans started coming out of her.

His finger quickly moved to her stomach, and then her full breasts, and to her neck.

You do not have to do this. His final sliver of reason told him. You can still turn back, it said. You just need to let her go. Doing it on a dead body and killing a person is different. It desperately callex out to him.

Tears started flowing out of his eyes. He started to make some sobbing sounds.

The lady asked him what had happened, to which he replied.

"Sorry."

His gentle hands turned into cuffs, forcing the air from entering her body. She immediately struggled with all her might to stop him, but to no avail.

He was on top of her, holding her neck. With his new found monstrous strength, she was heading towards death.

As the lady frantically tried to fend for her life, his cries bursted out. Tears flowed from his eyes, down to his cheeks, to his chin and dropped on the near death lady.

The weaker the lady was, the harder he started to become. But he was not happy.

He kept crying and crying like a beast, until the woman stopped moving, and even after that, he did not stop crying. The scenery was similar to a horror movie. Grief and sorrow filled his mind, causing him to wail uncontrollably.

When the lady stopped moving, he already came once. Whittish substance was on her belly.

Her body had gone limp. There was a clear purple mark on her neck the shape of a hand. Her head tilted lifelessly on one side. Her wrists were bleeding because she struggled so much.

He killed a person. And there was sexual pleasure coming out from that experience.

Sparks filled his emotion spectrum.

It was not just 'lust', it was something else.

Nevertheless, he was then The Murderer.

A disgusting, filthy, horrible, who reached climax while killing murderer.

"I'm sorry...*sob* I'm so sorry...*ack*...Forgive...me!!"

He took the eye mask on the face of the lady off, and gave her a kiss. A deep and pationate french kiss.

"I...will treasure your body. This is the least I could do."

He put his thing into the still-warm dead body.