© MMXIX A.N.E.
So there is this one self help group called “Necrophiliacs Anonymous” or “N/A” as it’s commonly being referred to, you sure haven’t heard of them, I suppose. Anyway, there was this session where someone (it was me) raised the question why one wouldn’t wanna fuck dead animals instead of having to go through all that nuisance attached to human behavior, you know their defiance and them being so judgy and disapproving of the needs of your regular friendly necrophiliac.
There was some discussion about the idea that it might as well be because of all that peculiar and funny staggering through life, that both nasty and intriguing demeanor in the first place as to why one prefers human corpses over say dead pigs. Someone suggested that you don’t fuck what you eat, for ingesting always bears the chance to literally incorporate your victim and connecting to humans by murdering them were tight enough of a relationship. At some point the discussion got a little heated, just imagine your everyday altercations between vegans and vegetarians, some said it was plain disgusting to fuck dead animals, others actually considered giving it a try and a few especially honest individuals even outed themselves having been introduced to fucking corpses by fucking carcasses. During all this yada-yada I, a freelance rogue counsellor as you have probably already been guessing, being the only sane person in the room moderating those fine people – strictly because of a professional interest in the overall subject of necrophilia that is, eavesdropped a conversation between two especially seasoned grave and corpse desecrators in their spare time, this often out of necessity as I’ve learned, but part time serial killers being their dream job and main occupation. I mean, of course. They’re not going postal, are they. Killing repeatedly in order to fornecrocate – Fornecrocation is a term I developed – relies on keeping a low profile, that goes without saying. Anyway. It was enlightening.
„How do you like to rape your corpses“, asked one serial killer the other, „while they are still warm or after they’ve cooled down?“
They both burst into laughter after a split second of uncomfortable silence. I listened in suspense. “Why, it’s all about the texture or else we’d be fuckin’ rubber dolls, right!?”, says the other. “It sure is, mate. It’s all about the texture, it’s all about the texture…”