The Son of Necrophilia
(MF, nec, preg)
By Igor Mortis (c) 1991
Edited by Miss Gargantuan
When they fired me from the factory, the long months of unemployment and drinking clung to me like the entrails of a beast. But things became even worse when one winter night, returning home from one of my haunts about the town, I saw my mother lying dead on the floor, large brown cock-roaches crawling all over her body. I didn't cry, but I did realize how lonely I was going to be, the spider of heartache spun a cobweb of nerves, and I drank more than ever after that.
Two months later, being very drunk, I tried to break into a liquor store at night. I remembered nothing about it. I couldn't protest my innocents because deep down I knew that I was capable of the act. Anyway, two years of prison didn't seem to be a very long time.
I stopped drinking. This is the only thing for which I can thank the prison. I blush to remember how three enormous guys raped me over and over again that first night. I didn't commit suicide like the other young man who had also been raped along with me, but I did feel terrible. And once my "lovers" decided to have fun with me, which resulted in multiple burns all over my face, chest and arms.
So within the first month of my incarceration, nobody could look at me without disgust.
The two years passed and I returned back to my hometown. As I had expected, my home was now home to some other people, and they weren't going to let me in.
Nevertheless, I didn't look for consolation in alcohol - I knew how dangerous that was - and with the help of the local militia I found a job in the local morgue. My job was to do everything that the coroner, old Mr. Guriev, didn't want to do. He was the only coroner in our town so I got to see a lot. I loved watching him break into the chest of a corpse or remove gray intestines from the belly.
Of course, he wouldn't let me do such things. I just would wash the bodies, clean the morgue, and do other unimportant things like that. I slept in a small room at the back of the morgue, my neighbors were mops and janitorial inventory.
Little by little, I began understanding the many aspects of a coroner's work, the scientific terms that Guriev used were no longer strange to me. It seemed that the old man had found a "pupil" - he taught me many things and even, after a while, permitted me perform autopsies when he was feeling under the weather.
Half a year passed. Guriev died of a heart attack, and I had to fill his position. There's nothing strange about it considering the size of our town. After all, the militia had helped me - they supported me since they thought I was one of them. Guriev was my first patient: never before had I opened the chest of a cadaver alone.
I loved the dead for their silence and indifference to the outside world. In fact, I was also dead - nobody would speak to me, and it was hopeless to even think about women, so I could only masturbate, that's all.
It became known what had happened back at prison, so it was now even harder for me to walk to the local store and back without hearing nasty comments about my sexual persuasion, and what someone should do to me to show me how a real man performed.
Only the dead never laughed at me, and I tried to pay them back for that, making the autopsy as carefully as possible. And I talked to them to show them that I cared. I was sure the dead felt things, only they couldn't express it.
Once a young woman was brought to the morgue. She'd died from an overdose mixed with alcohol. She had long red hair and a beautiful body, but her face... There was a large ugly mole prominently perched upon the left side of her face. She was really pretty except for the mole - and I could understand the pain she have felt every time she looked in the mirror.
It took me some time to start the autopsy. For some reason I didn't want to cut into her body. It was a beautiful body and I knew what bodies looked like afterwards. I didn't want the scalpel to break her soft skin, I couldn't even think of touching her insides.
The ambulance driver had told me that the girl had no relatives and that she was probably going to be buried at the cost of the town. This inspired me. I asked them not to bury her, but to leave the corpse at the morgue so I could practice the more delicate procedures for future clients.
It was risky thing for them to do, but after a while they agreed and signed the necessary documents. I was happy. I didn't have to cut her! "You can enjoy your sleep, my beauty, nobody is going to hurt you!' I thought to myself.
I placed her in the refrigerator to slow down the decomposition. I couldn't have viruses torturing my princess. Touching her breasts, I suddenly felt strange, I ran my fingers down her belly and passion overwhelmed me.
For the first time in a long time I felt myself getting hard. I felt like a man! Unable to control myself I leaned over and kissed her pale lips. Lord, how wonderful it felt! Her cool soft lips accepting my kiss, not turning away in disgust.
I took her body to my room and put her on my bed. Rigor mortis was not yet complete, but it took me quite some time to put her in the appropriate position. Finally, we kissed again and - good lord - it seemed that she answered me! I quickly undressed...
Everything was simply marvelous, I had never felt anything like this before (the last time I had slept with a woman was... was a lifetime ago). My lover gave me feelings that I would never forget.
I mounted her and fucked her long and gently. I could hear the KY jelly squelching as I pumped her, finally cumming my brains out like I hadn't done in a long time. My orgasm was so strong that I almost lost consciousness.
Lying on top of my new lover I finally caught my breath enough to realize how lucky I was. To have my own uncomplaining lover... But I knew that I only had a limited time to enjoy our lovemaking.
**
Two days later I noticed that Lena's belly was fuller than before, but I thought it was due to the decomposing process. Nevertheless, her dead body felt as if it were alive. Almost warm and very soft. She had no signs of rigor mortis, I was pleased. This all was more than strange, considering that she was kept in my room, not in the refrigerator.
At night I made love to her again, this time I pulled her up over my body and entered her from underneath. I humped up at her until I was breathing so hard that I had tears in my eyes. When I finally came in her I was so exhausted that I fell instantly asleep, not even taking the time to wash her off.
I had a dream that my lover was going to give birth to a child, which planted an idea firmly in my mind. In the morning I put my ear to her belly and heard a little noise that sounded like a tiny heartbeat. I fell on the floor next to my goddess, "God, is it possible?" I whispered to myself.
Trying to hold myself together, I examined the body again. It was all true: a little heart was beating in her dead womb. Going crazy with fear and excitement, I closed my eyes. What was going on? How could a corpse become pregnant? Had I gone mad?
**
Three more days passed. I was afraid of approaching her, but I could see her belly growing, despite all the laws of nature, right before my eyes. There were still no signs of rigor mortis. I didn't let anyone in my room. I wanted to fuck her again, but I was afraid.
**
Three weeks passed since the time I last fucked her. Her belly now looked swollen just like a real pregnant woman in her ninth month. Putting on my operating robe and gloves, I finally got up enough nerve to pick up a scalpel and make a long cut in the dead white flesh of my lover. I hoped to rid myself of the nightmares thoughts percolating within my head of a freakish baby, a monster from my seed.
My lover couldn't show if she felt any pain. So I carried on my infernal abortion. I was ashamed and disgusted with myself, for I loved her. This was my final betrayal, I'd told her that she would be safe with me. But there was really no other way.
Soon I found a little inert baby, a little baby boy, not a freak at all but a perfect tiny human being. After I removed him, the corpse began decomposing very rapidly. Within a few minutes there was nothing but a disgusting pool of sludge on the table. Death had finally taken my lover completely.
The tiny baby boy in my hands began to scream in outrage or hunger. I suddenly felt such enormous affection for him that tears swelled in my eyes. I patted his head and said, "Don't cry, sonny. Daddy will take good care of you!"
The End
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