Entrails

I don’t know why, but the feel of fresh entrails on my skin is intoxicating. When I say fresh, I mean fresh. As in the body is right next to you, still alive. Well, dying, but still alive. It’s the warmth that gets me. Every time. If someone is really cold emotionally, they have the hottest intestines. If someone complains about jealousy, they have the juiciest liver. If someone is a gossip, their lungs make good bagpipes. I don’t know why – they just do.

Never concerned myself with the details much. Lots of blood and gore are bad on my entrails, but I don’t mind them. My last girlfriend said I was a disgusting freak with necrophiliac tendencies. I’m no necrophiliac! For one thing, I don’t have sex with them after I gut them. That’s just plain nasty. Having sex with a person is one thing – but having sex with a gutted person? I’d be happier fucking a length of their intestine. Especially a very fresh one. All slippery and warm. If I’m lucky, it’ll still be pulsating slightly.

OK, I admit it. I know I’m slightly disturbed. It’s natural though, right? Everyone cracks at some point in their lives. I don’t know when I cracked. I think I was always like this. That’s what my mother said to me…right before I pulled her intestines out. Her organs went cold very quickly. I hate it when that happens. Fortunately it only happens once every fifty bodies. I try to stay away from general civilization. I lurk in the woods and forests. Well, “lurk” makes me sound like a predator, right? I’m no predator. I’m a guy with extreme fetishes.

I’ve collected and preserved the heart of every person I play with. OK…not play, that word makes me sound like a sexual deviant. Experiment – except I don’t. Kill sounds slightly better but it makes me sound like a murderer. I’m not! Honest! It’s not my fault they can’t take my kinks! Oh man, I might need help figuring out what I am.

Time to take a visit to the University again. Hopefully the new professor will last longer than the last one.