When did it all start for you?

[syrinx]

All if these responses have been fascinating to read.
I am female, so you can take my reply or leave it, but maybe it'll offer some insight.
I was molested by a family member and shortly after, a favorite aunt of mine died and I started really wondering about death and whether or not it hurt. I also happened upon two neighbors who were watching the Texas chainsaw massacre and I sneaked in and watched it. I was really excited about what I saw and wondered if one day I could kill the family member who molested me, if I could get one over on him in some way.
I found a few dead things in the woods around that time and would put them in ant piles to see what happened. I found a lot of peace in death and the simple extremes of nature. The woods also hid me from my abusive family members and let me fantasize about finding a dead body, or where I would put a guy if I killed him.
Anyway, I would never act out that stuff, it's always been a fantasy though.

 

[hikerlad]

Luca Magnota

 

[heartmuscle]

When I heard my friend´s heart beating for the first time. I wanted to cut him open to see what his heart and organs looked like.

 

[hikerlad]

I did the "choking game" and felt my friends heart a faint my chest as he held me in a bear hug

 

[Traxx]

It started with gladiator movies for me. I was home alone Saturday afternoons when one of our local stations would play them, my teenage self was surprised I was getting hard each time a gladiator got gutted and fell hard to the sand. After a while I sought these films out - staying up late in our family room and before long I was jacking to them - usually spurting just as a glad took it in the guts and fell dead.

Later on I got the same feeling reading Conan comics and the Richard Lord Blade paperbacks which connected death and release of semen do beautiful. Gangster paperbacks like Marc Bolan and death books like The Death Merchant (filled with hundreds of slain men - each death described in such an offhand hot way) kept my right hand moving and my cock shooting.

 

[HailAndKill]

It started when I was 6 or 7. I just loved playing Mortal Kombat and watch fatalities. What turns me on from that time are dead corpses in boots and the imagination and scenes of fights (especially in games) in which my favourite guy in nice boots is beating up by someone, choked, thrown, tortured, killed etc.

 

[hercules92]

It was when I was in college. Just one day YouTube suggest a cut scene from the game "outlast" it's a necrophia scene. Ever since, I can't get it out of my head

 

[Immortal1]

It started with me feeling sad for a character which I'd seen come near death in a cartoon when I was a child. I also remember deliberately getting my character ingame killed just so I could see him go ragdoll and would try to make his corpse take a very strange position after dying- I remember that I once even found myself dreaming about having his (dead) body in ragdoll just teleport to my room so I could move his body, put it in some position I'd find hot, take off his clothes and whatnot...

 

[djbear]

He certainly was a sick guy!

 

[djbear]

I remember my Dad was alawyer and the Registry Office (for property Deeds) was at the jail house. Back then they used to hang people at the County Jail and bury them in the jailhouse courtyard. I was probably 7 or 8 and my Dada had to go the Registry Office and left me sitting in the car. I had heard a man had been hanged at midnight that night before and I sat there fascinated by the idea that the last outside place he had seen was the entrance to the courthouse which I was looking at.

I avidly followed newspapers even when I was 11 or 12 and can remember reading enwspaper accounts of executons in the electric chair (New York State) and the gas chamber (somewhere in the south) and in the early 50s the published reports described the scene from entering the execution chamber until death including any unusual things.

I always got hard-ons. Some of the guys executed were only 5 or 6 years older than me and I would think of myself being the executed guy.

 

[deaddirty]

If you, or anyone, could find those newspaper reports of gas chamber executions, they might make enjoyable reading!

 

[alexonedeath]

I remember my Dad was alawyer and the Registry Office (for property Deeds) was at the jail house. Back then they used to hang people at the County Jail and bury them in the jailhouse courtyard. I was probably 7 or 8 and my Dada had to go the Registry Office and left me sitting in the car. I had heard a man had been hanged at midnight that night before and I sat there fascinated by the idea that the last outside place he had seen was the entrance to the courthouse which I was looking at.

I avidly followed newspapers even when I was 11 or 12 and can remember reading enwspaper accounts of executons in the electric chair (New York State) and the gas chamber (somewhere in the south) and in the early 50s the published reports described the scene from entering the execution chamber until death including any unusual things.

I always got hard-ons. Some of the guys executed were only 5 or 6 years older than me and I would think of myself being the executed guy.

djbear, this sounds very much like the beginning of a good book. Your tone is so engagingly wistful. Please write your autobiography, or turn your life experiences into a novel. I detect talent!

 

[jimboylan]

For me, reading books about the executions of the Lincoln conspirators in 1865, and newspaper accounts of the last 2 electrocutions in Pennsylvania, before I was 12 years old. D.C. comic books stories about executions often featured the executioner, and gave me a role model to envy. The male costumes and uniforms also helped get me excited.

 

[VoodooDoll312]

I guess for me it was inevitable. I grew up in the funeral home that my grandfather was part owner of. My mother worked there a few days each week handling office/billing work. The majority of those days she took my brother & I with her... If there was not an active visitation/service taking place then we were told to go play and stay out of way. Hide and seek often lead to us hiding in the caskets that were in the display room... and to get to the kitchen area we had to pass thru the embalming room. We thought nothing of seeing a body being prepped for display.

Also cannot count the number of times my grandfather and uncles would stop by my grandparents house for lunch while out on a call to transport a body. We would climb all over the back bumper of the hersee trying to see the sheet covered body. Lol. My grandfather, who was a big, gruff southern man, would finally get annoyed with it and say, "Stop crawling on my herse.... just open the damn door already... it's not like you will disturb him/her!"

 

[djbear]

djbear, this sounds very much like the beginning of a good book. Your tone is so engagingly wistful. Please write your autobiography, or turn your life experiences into a novel. I detect talent!

Thank you. I might try a chapter of a book here first. I love writing.

 

[EthanFrome]

It started for me when I was 10 during the summer. I had foot fetish since I was young and had watched a few movies with some friends where the guy killed was asphyxiated/choked and there was an emphasis on his feet during the struggle: Child's Play 2 and Halloween (1978). My friends knew of my foot and bondage fetish and had entertained my advances prior to this. I made it clear that seeing those scenes turned me on and I wanted to try some time.
My friends were a little hesitant, but after much persuasion, I was able to get two of them into the idea. We had nothing to do for the rest of the night and our friends parents weren't home for another six hours so we decided to do plastic bag asphyxiation on one of the boys as a test and then the second would lie down after.
The first boy removed his shoes and socks and only wearing his t-shirt and jeans and we tied his feet together and hands behind his back with rope. We also gagged him with duct tape. I did the honors of bagging the first boy and it was the hottest experience for my first time. Something I'll never forget.
I straddled and sat on his lower back as I pulled the bag over his head. At first he wasn't scared and was actually giggling, but about 20 seconds in he started to realize how the lack of oxygen felt. He started squirming gradually and I'd look back to see his toes start to curl. It progressed into a harder struggle with him pounding his bound feet against the bed. That lasted for a good 30 seconds before the hypoxia started setting in his struggling subsided. Took about a full minute for him to pass out and we immediately pulled the bag off his face. He was unconscious for ten minutes before waking up heavily disoriented. Even he couldn't believe he had done that but thought it was cool being my first "victim."
The second boy got asphyxiated by our other friend while I was at his bound feet to get the foot fetish part of it fulfilled. Our previous "victim" rested on the chair to watch what had just happened to him.
We didn’t gag the second boy because we wanted to see it a little differently and hear the struggling. When he had the bag pulled over his head, he went wild. Luckily I had my arms tight around his ankles so he wouldn’t kick me. With his feet secure I worshiped his soles and toes. I could tell it was torturous to him with the bag over his head, but it was so hot having his feet struggle while I worshiped. He even gave his final twitch with his toes in my mouth. Once he was passed out we waited for him to wake up which close to 15 minutes later. He said he hated it but loved it at the same time.
We continued doing it years after, adding more boys to the mix with each snuff session. We even got one of the regular “victims” to get his dad to lie down a few times. That dad made for some hot scenes especially when he’d lie down with his son. They’d always want to “die” together which was always nice. Definitely miss those days.

 

[hangedguy]

My earliest memory was an illustration of Nathan Hale about to be hanged in my first grade history book. I was fascinated by that and looked at it constantly. After that, about any hanging on TV or in movies gave a huge thrill.

At some point, maybe by nine years old or so, I decided I needed to feel what it was like to be hanged. I tried a number of ways, nothing real serious but probably dangerous enough that I'm lucky I didn't fuck up and kill myself. At some point my hanging play always included my getting some serious wood over it, I think I was 12 when shit got real!

About the same time, three things happened. First, I saw the movie "Hang 'Em High". Seeing Clint survive that hanging at the start was not a good thing for a kid like me! I already thought it took awhile to strangle unconscious, I didn't need that reinforced, especially a ridiculously long time hanged and surviving. Clint with his cigars was also a big thing, I had really been wanting to try smoking cigars. The scene with the young prostitute was also huge, though I'm not sure I grasped everything they were trying to relate there. I liked seeing the girl smoke the cigar for sure. She was obviously frustrated there but was it from not getting fucked, or from being denied seeing the men hang?

I had also gotten a Tomahawk comic book about the same time. For those too young to know, Tomahawks was a kind of frontiersman comic book hero. In this one, he and his men are captured by an evil baron that had a castle. Tomahawk was being forced to pull the lever and hang his men, several of them, maybe five if I remember right. Of the bunch, one was a beefy bear type and next to him, a baby faced young blond guy. The kid looked a lot like me.

"Bear" had a big cigar as always. Before his hands were bound, he gave the kid his cigar. He was allowing the kid to experience at least that manly pleasure before he was hanged! Kind of a metaphor there maybe. Couldn't very well have them bring in a hooker to really take care of him properly, or if "Bear" and the kid were gay, give him his first blowjob, in a comic book! LOL

So you have the kid with a noose around his neck puffing on a big cigar and choking a little, then "Bear" showing bravado and telling Tomahawk to go ahead, he's ready fer the rope! Then of course at the last minute the cavalry rides in and saves them.

Third was that all that made me determined to buy some cigars and try it, and to ramp up my hanging play and really find out what it was like. I was a big kid for my age and go my nerve up and managed to buy some cigars without any problem. I smoked one that first night and was a natural. I really liked it and didn't choke or get sick or anything. The huge event in developing both my hanging and smoking fetish came within a few days, the next time I was home alone.

Once alone that morning I put a real hemp noose up in my room to put on and check myself out in the mirror smoking one of my cigars. We were avid campers and it was a nice 1/2 inch hemp noose. The sight of that around my neck and the big cigar gave me raging wood, no doubt helped by what I planned to do next. In our laundry room, I had a belt from a robe rigged from our main sewer pipe against a wall with a sturdy bench under it.

When I was ready, I took the real noose off, put my cigar in the ashtray and went in to hang myself. I'd never attempted a hanging this extreme before. The belt was secured and it had a slip knot in it. I had never considered any kind of safety measure like just using a fixed loop or a stop knot. I wanted it to tighten around my neck and choke me, that is how you hanged someone for real, and that is what I wanted to feel. I had never fully dangled by my neck and wouldn't this time, my back would be against the wall and that makes quite a bit of difference. It's enough to kill of course, just like those pole style hangings, close enough to doing the air dance for me at this time anyway.

I intended to step off the end of the bench, hang for as long as I dared, then just get my feet back up and get out of it. I did and hanged very briefly, got up and got the belt loose in time, then went back to my room. I put the real noose back on and puffed my cigar back to life, seeing my face a little flushed from the strangling. It was a real rush! The belt had hurt some, but not terribly so. Feeling myself hang by my neck and strangling, I loved it and wanted more! It could be my cock was telling me I needed more, I was absolutely throbbing hard!

I repeated the process and then a third time! Just as I got out of it the third time, I felt something intense happening with my cock and pulled my pants down just in time to shoot a huge load! Oh my God! I had no idea! It scared me a little at first, and then I realized it must be what cumming is. I had only heard about it and jacking off but never understood. I fully understood now what all those erections were for, and damned well realized how to make it happen again!

That thoroughly cemented my hanging and smoking fetish I believe, if it hadn't took before. It was awhile before I ever heard or read of a hanging giving a man an orgasm. When I did, I knew it was true. Had I been really taken out and hanged that morning for some reason, and had lasted just a little while, I know nothing could have stopped me from blowing that load! Maybe it didn't happen very often, but at least for a fairly young man, aroused and throbbing hard by the thought of being hanged, it had to have happened if he was lucky.

That was an experience I would never take back for anything. I feel that was the day I became a man, much more so than the first time I fucked a girl a few years later. I've been straight most of my life but consider myself bi now, or at least I love hard cock where a noose or strangling is involved. The noose took my virginity! A wonderful first lover it was too. I'm not sure I ever shot a load like that my entire life with a woman. I've always felt it would be fitting to die like a man the way I became one, shooting my last load while hanging by my neck!

 

[alexandrI]

Accroding to the fact that I remember myself enjoying a picture of a dead guy when I was approximately 4, I think that my "weirdness" is inborn. That might look odd since I have no relatives with close features, and, on the other side, no incidents were to change my vulnerable baby mind. A mutation to lower the birth rate, I guess.

And for a long time I had no need of friends. Not only friends, but actually even having a talk with anyone. Probably that helped me - at school I have always been the best student. But then started an age of love and having girlfriends, so my "weirdness" started to be a bit more visible, because I was the only one who never had a friend or a girlfriend.

Now I feel that I actually need friends (or at least a good talk), but I'm too shy and also induced in the thing that I can bring only troubles. And there are some other problems... so in case I decide to leave the world I may ask the FSB to send my photos here for you to enjoy

 

[rtndguts]

I've always had a thing about being belly-shot. I think it started when I was about six years old. I have a theory about fetishes. Whatever a person is doing or seeing, whatever sensory input is happening when he first becomes sexually aware of himself is what becomes his fetish for life, even if he's not aware of it at the time. For a boy thats about 4-6, when he first plays with himself and realizes he enjoys the sensation. For me this came during the old black and white television days. My earliest recollection I think , is an episode of "The Fugitive" In the end scene the antagonist is shot in the belly wearing a white t-shirt and all that showed was a small black spot where his belly button should be and a look of utter surprise on his face. I realized at the time that while the good guys always got shot in the arm or sometimes the leg, the bad guys always seemed to get it in the belly and had just a little time to realize it was happening. I've been into gut and navel play ever since.

In the summer, I used to walk the beaches gauging belly buttons by calibre or blade type. I always thought the bigger guys would be more fun because it would take more shots to finish the job. I developed a fondness for bears and chubs since fat is the only thing that'll stop a round. A six-pack would get ripped right through and a twink would get blown off his feet by a 22.

Around age 12 I got a red ryder BB gun and and as soon as I was alone in the house I turned it on my belly button and fired off a few shots. Stung like crazy but I loved it. I learned then that I have a very masochistic bellybutton. I'm pushing sixty now and those desires have only gotten more extreme as I got older. I've done BB and pellet gun darts in the button. I've even done deep stabs through the belly button using awls and screwdrivers. Man, what an awesome feeling. Anyone else get into actual play?

 

[BladeThruMyChest]

I started with my buddy, Randy, in Junior High. He was red-haired and very light skinned. The veins on chis chest stood out like blue-lines on a road-map. One day at his place, when we were alone, he took off his shirt and raised his hands over his head. Just under his left pec, you could see a visible pulsing. He took my hand and placed it on his chest, being a bit bigger, my hand went over his whole chest. I could feel his chest rise and fall with his breathing, I could feel his ribs riding under his skin, but mainly I could feel his heart beating into my palm. I could tell he was real excited about my hand over his heart. Not long after, he started to slip his hand under my shirt to feel my heartbeat. I began to take off my shirt and lay down on his bed so he could place his ear to my chest and listen to my heartbeat. After a while, when we were alone, he took off his shirt and handed me his fathers' hunting knife, (this is West Texas), and had me hold the tip to his visible heartbeat. He put his hands behind his back and stuck out his chest, as if he were about to be stabbed through his visible beating heart. I caught on pretty fast, I grabbed his two hands with my arm, and raised the blade over my head. Then, I brought to down (blunt end) right into his chest - right over his pumping heart. His lean body stiffens and he let out a low and pained groan. I held the blade against his chest as he started to cough and pant. finally, he'd weaken and go limp in my arms, his ear falling onto my chest, listening to my heart beat.
Came up with many scenes after that where one of us is shot / stabbed through his heart.