Octave
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2009
- Messages
- 323
- Location
- Styx
— It was 7:00 am when I woke up. J. was still sleeping and the effect of the Lorazepam I had given him the day before worked well. I knew that it was the ideal moment to kill him but I did not know how to do it. I had planned nothing. Finally, I found one of his barbells at the bed end. I took it, I bent above his calmed body and I pressed it on his throat. J. abruptly opened his eyes. I sit on his body to prevent him from moving and I still squeeze him a few seconds. J. hardly struggled, his legs stirred in the air, incapable to shout except some guttural sounds.
— Then, his stare became dull and he stopped moving. I stopped pressing on the barbell.
— But J. had not died yet, something prevented me from going farther. J. stared into emptiness, he breathed noisily, with a hoarse sound.
— I began to undress him. It was hard to see him dying like that because I had some affection for him.
— And then he wanted to say something, he whispered something like "Stop it, please " by moving arms while I removed his T-shirt.
— I took back the barbell, sure of me, and I squeezed on his throat. And I squeeze while he looked at me, my stomach on his ardent stomach. His dick was half inflated, his buttocks sweaty. I put my lips on his mouth and I continued to squeeze until I feel his tongue sticking between his teeth. And I squeezed again until I feel the cartilages of the neck breaking and the muscles loosen suddenly.
— I killed J. and it was exciting.
— I looked at Jay's corpse hanging a few minutes. The wrinkled fingers, a small tear in the corner of his eye, a bubble of saliva on his lips...
— I try to take pictures of each of the stages.
— I removed his underwear. And I played with his body for the last time.
— I caressed the inside of his thighs, passing under his dick, in that tiny way which separates the scrotum of the wet anus and I introduced my fingers in his hole. Jay adored that when he was alive.
— And then I clearly understood that J. would never wake up with me, that we would never make love again, and that I could never feel his warm skin against mine.
— I covered his body and I cried.
— But I regained self-control and dragged his body up to the bathroom.
I carried him in the bathtub and I opened him.
— I opened him with a simple kitchen knife. I did not take good pictures of that because I wanted to finish it fast.
— But it is surprising to see all the shit a body can contain.
— As I was not able to saw his ribs, I had to plunge my arms into his corpse, up to the elbow, to remove his lungs and his heart.
— J. stank all the bathroom and I was covered with blood and yellow fat. I get sick of seeing his body wriggling around in the bathtub at the rate of my knife stabs trying to remove cartilages and flesh, his dead stare fixing the nothingness…
— Finally, I put intestines in a plastic bag.
— I unfortunately damaged the heart by a small blade stab.
— But the lungs were impeccable.
— I washed the body and stitched him up. J. My talents of stitching are not perfect but I did what I could …
— A whole life which ends...J. had shared his body with other boys before we met. And like all the young people, he thought he was immortal. But we are only a heap of flesh. And his heart doesn't beat anymore.
— His stomach was collapsed, tightened like a tent canvas between the ischial spines and his thorax…
— Thorax which turned blue and covered with bruises.
— Only the face remained serene, in spite of the wide open mouth and the rolled upwards eyes.
— I took a last picture...
— Then, his stare became dull and he stopped moving. I stopped pressing on the barbell.
— But J. had not died yet, something prevented me from going farther. J. stared into emptiness, he breathed noisily, with a hoarse sound.
— I began to undress him. It was hard to see him dying like that because I had some affection for him.
— And then he wanted to say something, he whispered something like "Stop it, please " by moving arms while I removed his T-shirt.
— I took back the barbell, sure of me, and I squeezed on his throat. And I squeeze while he looked at me, my stomach on his ardent stomach. His dick was half inflated, his buttocks sweaty. I put my lips on his mouth and I continued to squeeze until I feel his tongue sticking between his teeth. And I squeezed again until I feel the cartilages of the neck breaking and the muscles loosen suddenly.
— I killed J. and it was exciting.
— I looked at Jay's corpse hanging a few minutes. The wrinkled fingers, a small tear in the corner of his eye, a bubble of saliva on his lips...
— I try to take pictures of each of the stages.
— I removed his underwear. And I played with his body for the last time.
— I caressed the inside of his thighs, passing under his dick, in that tiny way which separates the scrotum of the wet anus and I introduced my fingers in his hole. Jay adored that when he was alive.
— And then I clearly understood that J. would never wake up with me, that we would never make love again, and that I could never feel his warm skin against mine.
— I covered his body and I cried.
— But I regained self-control and dragged his body up to the bathroom.
I carried him in the bathtub and I opened him.
— I opened him with a simple kitchen knife. I did not take good pictures of that because I wanted to finish it fast.
— But it is surprising to see all the shit a body can contain.
— As I was not able to saw his ribs, I had to plunge my arms into his corpse, up to the elbow, to remove his lungs and his heart.
— J. stank all the bathroom and I was covered with blood and yellow fat. I get sick of seeing his body wriggling around in the bathtub at the rate of my knife stabs trying to remove cartilages and flesh, his dead stare fixing the nothingness…
— Finally, I put intestines in a plastic bag.
— I unfortunately damaged the heart by a small blade stab.
— But the lungs were impeccable.
— I washed the body and stitched him up. J. My talents of stitching are not perfect but I did what I could …
— A whole life which ends...J. had shared his body with other boys before we met. And like all the young people, he thought he was immortal. But we are only a heap of flesh. And his heart doesn't beat anymore.
— His stomach was collapsed, tightened like a tent canvas between the ischial spines and his thorax…
— Thorax which turned blue and covered with bruises.
— Only the face remained serene, in spite of the wide open mouth and the rolled upwards eyes.
— I took a last picture...
