Posted by Sawney Beane on April 10, 2006 at 22:47:25:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #4
THREE MINUS ONE
by Sawney Beane
22 November 1991
4,317 words
DISTRIBUTION NOTICE and DISCLAIMER: Sawney Beane requests that any distribution of this work of fiction remain within the realm of social responsibility. This story is suitable neither for minors nor for the seeming majority of adults who have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality. It is pure fantasy, which means that, for whatever reason, someone has found it interesting to think about the events depicted herein. It does not in any way mean that the author would like to see this fantasy become reality, so if you are the type of person who might be swayed into doing something irrational by reading a work of fiction, the author respectfully requests that you decline to read further.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sawney Beane, originally a native of Edinburgh, lived for twenty-five years in a cave on the coast of County Galloway, subsisting on the flesh of unfortunate travellers, roughly a thousand of them all told. He and his wife raised a large family of eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons, and fourteen granddaughters. Eventually, the family was captured, and the whole lot was brutally and unjustifiably tortured and executed without trial. Since his death in the early 17th century, Beane has reformed his ways and now confines his atrocities to his literary endeavours.
WARNING: This story contains scenes of non-consensual female snuff, necrophilia, and gynophagia and is somewhat more brutal than most of Sawney Beane's other works. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my earliest surviving work containing non-consensual activities. It's not a particularly nice story, and I thoroughly dislike it due to the content. It must have arisen out of a very bad mood, but the one element I do appreciate in it is the sense that the reader gets that the narrator's view of the world just might not exactly match reality. One more thing, I don't think my protagonist's serving suggestions are particularly advisable.
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I kissed the girl passionately on the lips for several minutes. I was happy that she was my girlfriend, because she was often a lot of fun to play with. She laughed and rolled away from me. It was a small bed, so she couldn't get far. I dragged my fingernails across her bare back. No response. She was playing dead. I played along, and, after a few moments of mock panic, I dug my fingers deep into her shoulder blade. A miracle occurred, and my love was raised from the dead screaming.
She kissed me and rolled away again. I rubbed her back for several minutes until I got bored and slid down the bed to nibble on the backs of her knees for a while. When I had had my fill, I slid back up and placed my face close to hers. Her large brown eyes stared up at me expectantly, as I ran my fingers through her long brown hair.
Suddenly, she rolled away and curled up in a tight ball. I could no longer gain access to her pleasant skin and warm touch. She said that she was tired. I hated it when these things happened. When she was good, she was the best I had ever dreamed of, but, when she was not in the mood, she could be horribly frustrating. That's what I get for being a night person. After all, it was three am on a Thursday night. However, I was not the least bit tired. I turned off the light and tried to sleep. It was futile.
The rest of the story is not so clear in my mind. I tend to see it all through a sort of haze. It's a most unpleasant haze at that. I've tried many times to recall what happened that weekend, but my memories are always slightly flawed and change a little bit between the times I remember them.
I stood up and strolled around the room. From across the room, I could see her sleeping form. It looked so peaceful. I resented her ability to fall asleep quickly. I was unhappy, disappointed, frustrated, and, perhaps unjustifiably, just a little bit annoyed with her. I looked down at my naked body and wondered what to do. I decided to start by getting dressed.
Soon after I had donned all of my clothes, I felt suddenly cold, and then He came. I know not where from or wherefore, but He came and pushed me roughly aside until my view of the world was similar to the view from a dark room through two high circular windows. I could vaguely sense my surroundings, but I had lost all power to manipulate them. I was foggy and helpless. I cried out desperately, but no sound came forth. I felt defenceless and naked.
He, on the other hand, exhibited an impressive power over anything and everything He saw. He was strong, far stronger than I was. Most importantly, He was evil, pure unadulterated hate. Violent emotion exuded rancidly from his entire being. He spoke little, but when He did, it was a rough gravely sound only vaguely resembling speech. He was not one to be trifled with.
I had never met Him before, but I recognized Him vaguely. I did not know where I had seen His ethereal form before. Perhaps He was a demon from my dreams. I had a lot of dreams.
I struggled vainly with Him for as long as I could. In the end, I fell weak and injured into the corner. The good guys don't always win.
I trembled with fear as He strode about the room preparing to perform His purpose. I watched in terror, not knowing what He would do to me and my girlfriend. He growled mirthfully, and my love rolled over in her sleep.
After another few minutes, He grabbed a long serrated knife from my love's pile of utensils and claimed my book bag. He stuffed the blade into the bag and shuffled out of the room. I followed Him against my will.
Outside, in the dimly lit hall, He snarled and stood with an evil grin before the door across the hall. I stared at the nametags on the door, which announced the residence of Nikki, Melanie, and Cathy Delano. They were a set of triplets, which my girlfriend and I had often spoken about for various reasons. I tried to run away, but my legs would not respond.
He touched the doorknob softly and then twisted it confidently. He seemed to have some sort of sixth sense and was aware of things, which no mortal human could possibly have known. For instance, He knew that Cathy Delano had forgotten to lock her door that night. It was a very dangerous mistake. He also knew that she was alone, sleeping in the room. Her two sisters had gone home for the weekend and would not be back until late Sunday night. He told me these things, but He did not speak them. He just communicated them.
We crept silently into the small residence hall room containing three beds. He locked the door discretely and stepped closer to the single occupied bed on the far side of the room. I could hear the faint breathing of the small college freshman. It was eerie.
He knew that Cathy was a very sound sleeper. This was good fortune for His intent, but very bad for her interests. He produced four lengths of rope from someplace and used them to bind the girl's wrists and ankles firmly to the four bedposts. She did not wake up. I trembled.
He then grabbed a piece of cloth readily at hand in the slightly cluttered room and tied it around the girl's head, securely blocking her open mouth. The sound of her breathing changed slightly, but she did not wake up. I screamed, but my mouth made no sound.
I watched as He tied another bit of cloth, a handkerchief maybe, around Cathy's closed eyes. Then He switched on the light. She did not wake up. I felt pity and fear. I scrambled to untie her bonds, but my hands would not respond.
He smiled grimly and pulled the knife from my bag and stuffed it into a pocket, He leaned over her and grasped the neckline of her silk nightgown. With a violent pull, the fabric ripped asunder, and much of the girl's body was suddenly naked and exposed to the will of her assailant. She woke up. The violent twisting and turning that followed served her no purpose, and her frantic screams were heard only by the gag stuffed in her mouth. I could do nothing to save her from Him. I was afraid.
There I stood with her screaming her head off to no avail and Him tearing the few remaining shreds of her nightgown from her body. She wore no underwear and was completely naked very soon. She was entirely at His mercy. I had never seen such power before. Her life was in His hands, and they were cruel hands.
I looked down at her for a long moment. Even in her best moments, I would never have considered her a great beauty. Her looks were nowhere near as good as those of my true love's. However, Cathy did possess a certain attractiveness. She was quite small and delicate. Her shoulder-length dark hair was nice but badly damaged from years of abuse from various beautification products. Her deep brown eyes stared out with partially false innocence. Now her gaze ended at her blindfold. In her naked state, I was aware for the first time of the full extent of her dark tan. It was a bit excessive. Nonetheless, her overall look was not at all unpleasant, if not attractive. In any case, I did not want her to be injured.
He touched the soft dark skin of the girl's exposed neck with the sharp blade of the knife. I could feel my throat vibrate as He spoke in His deep gravely voice to His victim. He told her bluntly that he would kill her if she did not stop struggling and screaming. She did so immediately. She waited helplessly for Him to proceed, hoping for a minimal amount of damage.
He smiled broadly and placed one of my index fingers near each of her exposed breasts. He explained His intent to the terrified girl. He informed her that He would kill her as soon as both nipples grew firm. This was truly an unfair thing to do, pitting her sexual reflexes against her will to live. He didn't seem to be too into fairness. She knew the hopelessness of the situation and screamed again. A gentle touch of the knife to her vulnerable neck put an end to her thoroughly muffled shriek.
He instructed my hands to trace endless circles around the edges of her dark areola. He gave firm instructions not to touch the actual nipples. My hands obeyed. I could not stop them. Around and around they went, tracing concentric circles around Cathy Delano's destruction. She lasted far longer than I would have expected. However, within a matter of minutes, I began to feel the tightening of the skin under my left index finger. Soon, the reaction was complete on her left side, and the right followed soon thereafter. She screamed and refused to stop, despite the total lack of good it did her.
He pounced upon her, landing with chin supported by fists, and elbows supported by her heaving chest. The knife touched her soft neck. He said good-bye to her matter-of-factly then said thank you for the wonderful entertainment.
The knife moved suddenly and fell to the floor next to the bed. I saw the gushing red fluid spewing forth just beneath the girl's frantic countenance. He leaned closer to her neck and began to suck the life-giving fluid from her veins. I could taste the distinct metallic flavour of the blood rushing to freedom outside the girl's body but finding itself trapped within my own.
Her death struggles did not last long. He continued to drink her blood long after she had left the realm of the living. When He had sucked as much as could be pulled from her neck, He sat up. Blood dripped from my chin and onto my clean shirt. I looked down at the unresisting body beneath me. Despite her tan, Cathy was now quite pale. He removed her blindfold, gag, and bonds. She did not jump up and flee the room. She had long since fled her body. It was strange feeling the warmth of her body and knowing that she was not there.
I looked closely at her eyes. They were opened as far as eyes could conceivably be opened. Her last facial expression was one of complete and utter terror. The eyes reflected sadness, anger, fear, pain, and panic. In short, her face conveyed every negative emotion I could think of.
He forced me to stand up and remove my clothing. Once again, I was naked. He climbed back onto the female body before us and inserted my penis into her unfeeling genitals. I felt the residual warmth of her dead flesh on my pulsating male member. To be fair, I must say that He did not rape the girl. She did not care one way or another at that point. With every push, I could see more blood escaping from the deep gash in her neck. Periodically, He stooped to lick her throat. I was thoroughly disgusted.
Other events occurred that night, but I have no memory of them. I only remember the results. When He left me, I fell into a deep slumber.
I awoke the next morning feeling as if I had just had a terrible nightmare. Then I saw her. I was in bed, covered with blood and awakening from an intimate sleep with a corpse. My arms were encircled tightly about her cold waist. It was much easier to sleep with a woman when I didn't have to concern myself with her comfort. It also helped that this particular bedmate had no arms to get in the way. I remembered that she had had arms the previous night, the last of her life. I'm not sure where they went, but I have a pretty good idea.
I tried to scream and puke at the same time with unpleasant results. I gave up the screaming and concentrated on the throwing up, which seemed more urgent at the time. I could feel the contents of my stomach lurching toward my mouth. Then He came back, He stopped my vomit in mid-heave and hurled me back into my corner. He was apparently not finished with His victim. Friday morning was one of the worst of my life.
He was hungry for breakfast. He placed the largest toe of the dead girl's small left foot into my mouth and bit down hard. I could feel the tearing of flesh and the hardness of bone. He pulled away without releasing His grip. The skin and muscles sheared away from the bone. He chewed for a while and spit out her toenail. I could taste the tender meat. It was unusual and entirely unpleasant because it was uncooked. I wanted to throw up, but He would not allow it. It's a horrible feeling wanting to be sick but not being able.
Breakfast turned out to be a large meal for Him. By the time He had chewed all of the flesh up to her knee, I was beginning to get used to the bill of fare. I did not yet enjoy dining upon cold raw human flesh, but I could live with it if He forced me to. It did seem to be a shame to destroy such a soft tanned recently-shaven limb. He obviously enjoyed it immensely, despite this liability. As He cleaned each bone, He tossed it onto a growing pile in the centre of the room. He left just as He let fly her fleshless left tibia. I rolled over and fell asleep after the large and largely repulsive meal.
He returned at noontime for lunch. I accepted His evil as unavoidable now. Most of the harm had already been done. Lunch was similar to breakfast, consisting of Cathy's right leg up to the knee. I took this meal better than the previous one. She did not seem to mind either. Of course, it was hard to tell with her being dead and all. Once again, I rolled over and fell asleep.
He made it back in time for dinner and fed upon the girl's petite left thigh. I had to admire the cuteness of the limb. It was so small and lovely and perfectly shaped. I must admit, it was somewhat tasty as well. I tried not to think about what He was eating. She began to remind me of a Cornish hen.
The skin of her upper inner thigh was incredibly soft. He allowed me to touch it for a while before He devoured it. I tried to avoid looking into her terrified but unseeing eyes. I tried unsuccessfully to remove His control over me. He was destined to take me over whenever He pleased. I gave up and fell asleep as a cleaned femur sailed across the room.
I awoke Saturday morning in bed with Cathy. My arms were twisted around her shoulders and my legs encircled her one remaining thigh. I remembered what had happened and trembled. Cathy and I were both victims of His devices. She was lucky because her fate was clear. Mine awaited me still. I hugged her and waited for Him to arrive for breakfast.
I did not wait long. He ate a light breakfast, merely two-thirds of her remaining thigh. The incompletely cleaned femur protruded unnaturally like a peg leg. I stared at it in helpless awe, wondering how I could ever imagine not being appalled by this form of sustenance. I was ashamed that the previous night I had come close to thinking of my dead bedmate as food.
Then He decided to lecture me. He told me that her death was my fault. I screamed and cried, but, as usual when He was around, no sounds emerged from my lips. I struggled with His control, but ended by impotently falling to the floor in the corner mumbling that it had not been my idea and that I had been forced to follow Him and help Him against my will. I had had no choice in the matter. He left without replying to my accusations.
I sat and cried until He returned for lunch. He ate the rest of her nice delicate thigh and began on her pelvic region. Her pubic hair tickled my throat, and her genitals had a truly unique taste. I sat in the corner of my mind and cried throughout the entire meal. When He was done, Cathy no longer existed below the waist. I fell asleep in exhaustion.
Dinnertime rolled around, and He arrived with obvious disdain for my childishness. He told me to grow up and face difficulty like a man. I only glared at Him. He picked the knife up off of the floor, where it had fallen two nights ago, and pierced the flesh between the tips of Cathy's collarbones. He moved the blade slowly down the contour of the girl's chest, tearing open her internal cavity. The knife stopped at the top of the corpse's sternum, and I moaned as I heard Him saw the bone in two. It was a long, painful process, but He eventually bisected the breastbone and continued on His merry way down to the end of her body, just below the halved navel. I retched as He ripped her sides apart and exposed the mass of non-functional internal organs.
Dinner was the most repulsive meal of the whole weekend. He began with the heart, which tasted strongly of blood's metallic flavour. He then devoured her lungs, stomach, intestines, liver (which tasted like all liver-horrible), kidneys, and so on until she was an empty shell of a woman.
I always remember this picture when I am forced to think of something really disgusting. It was. He left me. I stayed awake for a while staring at the small hull that had once been a living human being. It was difficult to imagine her without her death-grimace and with limbs. I knelt and prayed for help for the first time in years. It did me no good. Finally, I fell asleep.
Sunday morning, I awoke from a sound sleep with my right hand in something wet and squishy. I realized with horror where it was and ripped my arm out of the chest cavity of my bedmate. My wrist had been resting on her spine, the inside part, and had a peculiar row of indentations in it. He arrived for breakfast.
He ate the girl's soft flesh from her flanks, lower back, and abdomen up to the first three or four ribs. After the meal, she ended abruptly just below her breasts. I could stand it no longer. I screamed mentally at my captor, "Why, why?" He answered cryptically, "Ask yourself that question." I collapsed in a heap on the foot of the bed, and He left me until lunch.
When He came for His midday meal, He was in an extremely jocular mood. His reasons for being happy were probably less pleasant. The meal was large, as was His appetite. He began by placing my lips around Cathy's still-firm right nipple. It felt nice in my mouth. It was one of the first things He ever did that I liked. It grew less nice quickly, as He closed my jaws and severed their contents. The remainder of her small right breast and the entire left breast were soon missing. He devoured her pectoral muscles and licked her ribs clean. Her meaty shoulders kept Him busy for some time. I watched her shoulder blades fly across the room. Then her collarbones followed. Next came assorted vertebrae. He finally ended the meal when He reached the large initial gash in the girl's neck from which He had first drunk her warm blood. Then He left.
I sat motionless for a long time. I sat on the bed with Cathy's head in my lap. It was all that remained of her aside from a pile of bones and a mass of bloodstains on the sheets and my body. I felt sorry for her. I patted her blood-matted hair and kissed her screaming lips. She was an innocent victim of a heartless murderer. "So am I!" I screamed silently. It couldn't have been my fault. I didn't invite Him. I didn't even know who He was! I drifted off to sleep.
He returned in fine spirits. He told me that we would get to finish the job this time. I looked down at the face in my hands and tried to scream. First, he shaved most of Cathy's hair off using the edge of the knife blade. Her locks were left strewn across the bed in black tangles of string. He then chewed the soft neck and delicate chin of the young woman. As He ate, I could see her jawbone emerging from the flesh of her face. It was not pleasant. Her tongue was wet and slid down my throat unpleasantly. Her cheekbones emerged, and her eyeballs popped into my mouth. He closed my jaws upon them decisively. Her wide-eyed look of terror was finally given a rest. The remaining flesh of her face disappeared. He turned the head upside down and began pulling the brain from the skull. It was slimy and not at all pleasant to have put in my mouth. So it was done.
He tossed the skull onto the pile. It stared back up at me with a gruesome grin. I hated Him. He laughed an enormous laugh and asked me how I'd liked her. I growled. He said that for His part, she was pretty tasty but that He'd had better. I lunged at Him with all my might. He only laughed and informed me that I would be rid of Him before I knew it. With that He closed my eyes, told me that I was on my own from here on out, and left.
I was confused. I sat there for a long time wondering what to do. I retrieved the skull from the pile and asked my fellow victim her opinion. She did not have any useful input. I realized that I should get out of the room as quickly as possible because the consumed girl's sisters would be returning soon. I did not care to see the looks on their faces.
I had a change of clothes in my bag, and there was a mirror in the room. I did my best to improve my appearance by changing clothes and combing my hair and rubbing the bloodstains off of my face. Eventually, I thought that I looked respectable enough, at least at a distance. There were still few people in the residence hall. Most were away for the weekend. I took the girl's skull; I don't know why. I had a sense of identity with her because we were both victims in different ways of the same murderer.
I stuffed her skull into my book bag and peeked out of the room. The coast was clear, so I ran for the stairs. Soon, I was out of the building and fast on my way home. When I arrived, I hopped into my car-I had a full tank of gas-and started driving. I had no destination. I just knew that I had to get far, far away from the scene of the crime.
To make a long story short, I was captured. This was no surprise. I left the knife and my clothes. My hair and fingerprints were found all over the room. I was even in possession of the victim's skull. All in all, I couldn't have been easier to apprehend. I was advised by my attorney to plead insanity. I don't know why. I'm not insane at all. I'm just a victim of a cruel heartless butcher, who brought me along for no good reason. I knew that the jury wouldn't believe the truth. I barely did. So I accepted my lawyer's advice.
That's how I got here. I'll probably never leave this hospital. It's OK I suppose, as hospitals for the criminally insane go. I would like cleaner water and more visitors, but I can't complain.
What really bugs me is that the newspapers all referred to me as a modern day Dr. Jeckyll. This annoys me because it's not really the same situation at all. Mr. Hyde was merely the dark, usually hidden, side of Jeckyll's personality. On the other hand, He was in no way a part of me. He was an outside invader, another individual.
By the way, He has not returned since that night. I suppose He just isn't fond of the environment in mental hospitals. Actually, I'd happily stay here if it keeps Him away. I don't like Him at all. I have nightmares about Him all the time. I dream about what He did to poor Cathy Delano six years ago. I wonder what happened to the other two triplets-twins I suppose they are now. I guess that if you must kill someone, a triplet is the best choice. They're more expendable, you know, since there are two backup copies still living. That's just what I think.
Anyway, that's my story. Now you tell me yours. How did you get sent here?