Posted by NL on February 28, 2008 at 15:15:55:
The Serial Killer Chronicles 2
One thing I don't want to do is get involved in the big popular controversy of whether the serial killer is perhaps not necessarily of the same species as the "sex slayer" or "rape slayer", and of whether or not the average and ordinary Monster of Lust might not under some circumstances morph into one or the other. Guys, fess up now, don't we all aspire to be great hairy towering glowering Monsters of Lust? I knew a guy who took big wads of hormones in order to force a transformation into that Monster of Lust. It started with weight training, then the steroids got involved, then steroids and cystal meth and more and more weights until my good buddy bulked up something fierce and grew hair all over his body-- thick hair, like a bison or something like a wooly mammoth and started to drool and dribble so much it was like spending time with a pack of bloodhounds. He lost all of his friends because of the continuous farting and expectorating, not to mention being really irritable, and soon developed an appetite for peculiar forms of sexual conquest. Like, one time he attacked an entire RV park and the effect on the residents of that park was much like a series of small earth quakes as he fucked each big motorhome in turn, humping and hunching the tailpipe or even tailpipes. It was said that he fucked and ate a Ford Escort once. It was not occupied at the time, thank goodness! He became elusive, of course, and only managed to evade the cops by melting into the woods and impersonating a sasquatch. Since nobody around here believes in sasquatches, he had the perfect cover. I believe he dreamed of the day when he might feel that he had attained the right stuff, to such an extent that he might attempt to fuck an entire golf course, but not just any golf course. Oh no! Only Pebble Beach would do for him. I believe my old pal went wrong, but in a way he was lucky because he could not kill the inanimate objects he began to lust over, only damage them. Sometimes he damaged them severely. I do not know what became of him. Perhaps he attained his goal, making his way by degrees to Pebble Beach, disguised cleverly as a huge hairy monster nobody believed in.
I think most men dream at some time in their lives of things that might seem odd to most women. Truly, women are not in general wired as we men are. I have not heard of any woman who lusted to create a superbomb capable of levelling large cities and incinerating all the inhabitants and it was not a woman who called the problem of the atomic bomb "technically sweet". So I think when a man dreams of a naked woman with big tits and a nice ass dangling at the end of a rope and gets himself a hard-on, or dreams of a bikini-clad beauty taking a sniper's bullet in the bulge of her cute fuckbelly (lower abdomen for those not familiar with this kind of terminology) nothing very surprising or sinister is going on. And yet I have heard of serial killers or lust murderers who battled like the saints of old to drive the thoughts and images out of their heads, going through cycles of guilt and purgation and self-loathing, only to kill again. They didn't believe, really, in pornography or wouldn't allow themselves to have a cheap relief in fantasy and lacked anything like the sophistication to indulge in playful sex with a willing partner and perhaps had only rudimentary social skills to begin with. Not all such men carve their frustations into a woman's tender flesh, but some do. Some do.
I knew a guy once who surprised me. We were taking about a certain big-breasted woman of our acquaintance and he blurted out to me, "Damn! wouldn't you like to stick a knife in them titties!" I can't remember what I replied. But I kept track of him for a while and I do not believe he ever morphed into anything very much out of the ordinary during that time. We were both young. I went to college eventually and he went to Viet Nam and got himself killed there. It would have been interesting to see whether he might have become a serial killer or rapist or sex slayer one day. But his hypothetical career was cut short by a small Asian man with an AK-47, and I doubt that that Asian man had ever been or ever would be a serial killer. On the other hand that small Asian man probably had as much, or more, blood on his hands as the average serial killer. Context is all, and perhaps motive-- motive and context. When those Nazi German soldiers of long ago ordered bunches of Polish and Russian women to strip naked and climb down into wide, shallow trenches, so they could be shot to death, they were probably not functioning as sex slayers, precisely, but I wonder how many, if any, found themselves enjoying their work? In fact, I knew someone once who boasted of an execution he had been ordered to perform, on an informant who was suspected of passing information to the "enemy", thus threatening the survival of many spies. This man was a pillar of the community, well respected and almost revered. But when he related in much detail how he performed his wartime mission, how he took care to catch her unawares in her little flat, how he used his silenced Browning automatic (.32 caliber to keep the noise level as low as possible), putting one bullet into the back of her head while her back was turned, firing at such close range that her hair flew up, blown forward and up by the hot muzzle gases, when he described how the blood began to make a little fountain, spurting onto his clean shirt as she collapsed, falling on her back with her legs splayed and her eyes open, and how he shot her once more between her breasts-- I rather suspected that he enjoyed that assignment, and I rather suspected that he wasn't telling everything. It would not have surprised me at all if he had stripped that body and fucked it, right on the floor of her flat, probably taking a quick rinse in her shower before leaving. He followed orders. He did his job. The other stuff was discretionary. This gentlemen was the sort of guy you wouldn't mind buying a used car from. Very solid.