Obscene Violent Psycho Story (after Ellis)

Oct 09 2013

this story i wrote is obscene and violent, and may cause offense to some people. i wrote it after reading “American Psycho” by Bret Easton Ellis.

I awoke from a nightmare, but not the usual kind of nightmare. I call it a nightmare because it was about a monster, although it seems strange for a grown man to be having nightmares about monsters. But in the nightmare, I was not being chased by the monster, but I was chasing the monster. I found that it was a terrifying monster, and yet I was excited by the dread it induced in me. The more I pursued the monster, the more excited I became.

Having risen from my bed I went in to the toilet to do my piss. I still was consumed by the thrill of the nightmare and it had given me a feeling of invincibility. My body felt as though its internal structures and in particular its muscular parts had all expanded so that it was all much larger and stronger. So this is what it feels like, I thought, to be a real man, and not some fearful pussy. I didn’t know where that thought had come from, but I decided not to worry about it. When I took down my shorts I discovered that there was now a small sharp knife were each fingernail had been. My fingernails tore through the waistband of my shorts and they fell to the floor so that I was naked, and even though I was in my own private bathroom, I felt an immediate sexual thrill of exposure. All of this caused me to understand that I was still dreaming.

After I shook the last droplets of urine off the end of my cock I went to wash my hands and couldn’t help noticing that where there had previously been a mirror on the wall behind the basin, was now a window to another identical white tiled room. But no, I thought, that isn’t the case – it’s only that the mirror isn’t showing my reflection, as though I no longer exist at all. I was seized by a great curiosity to see my face, and my hands flew to it, so that in my haste I sliced into it with my knifelike nails. For a few moments a torrent of blood gushed down my body and splattered the floor, but it didn’t matter, because it quickly stopped. Again I touched my face, more carefully. There were no longer any wounds there and I could feel no other change from before, but it occurred to me that there was a difference in my mouth. It was my teeth, which were now knives too. I wasn’t surprised, but instead I felt natural and good, as a wildcat might feel in a forest, or as any untamed beast must feel when it has never needed to have anything to do with humankind and all of its gentle tyranny of self-reflection.

I returned to my bed, where my sleeping wife lay, and looked at her face. She was more beautiful than the night we had met, more arousing and enticing, and the blood thumped in my ears. She appeared more vital than I had ever known her, and yet seemed as peacefully and deeply asleep as though already in the repose of death, shrouded in soft coffin linens. She didn’t have any awareness yet of what had happened to me, but she would have some soon. I walked towards the crib next to our bed to look at our baby, but suddenly I didn’t want to see it. I wanted to be away from my wife and child, and I left the room.

As I moved down the hallway, I realised that I wasn’t walking, but that I was flying. It was something I hadn’t noticed immediately, because I wasn’t flapping my arms, or expending any other physical resources, but my feet were no longer touching the ground, and I was moving through the air by an effortless force of my will. The muscles of my legs remained extended as though still supporting my weight, and I relaxed them, which was much more comfortable. Those engines now would be reserved for more pure intent.

I opened the door of the room where my elderly father slept, which again I found was something that could be achieved with my mind alone, and entered. He slept poorly and his rest was fitful. His breath tore raggedly at the frail mechanisms of his lungs. I looked on his troubled features with disgust and he gave a shiver, maybe in response to the draft from the open doorway. I raked my fingerblades through the fragile tissues of his neck and his blood flowed rapidly everywhere. It happened so quickly that he had died before he could wake up. I pressed my lips to the fresh cavity and I caused his blood to enter my mouth. I swallowed and it felt obscene and incestuous as though I were eating his cum. When I thought that I felt an aggressive impulse to chew and latched my teeth into the most solid mass of the mess there. I shook and twisted my head and felt that my rage was somehow answered. My new teeth were sharp and they easily dismantled what they touched. I drew back and looked at the corpse of my father and the intensity of my emotions was gone. He had been worried and ashamed when it came to his dependence on me, and now that conflict would no longer be a problem for him. All of his problems were terminated. With his death, I had forgotten him, and I saw myself to be hovering in an empty room with no sense of purpose, so I left.

I moved through my house feeling a new detachment from the accumulation of possessions, the rooms cluttered with furniture and appliances and other acquisitions of art or decoration. I had now lost or abandoned my concept of taste in these matters and then I knew that I had kept no understanding of it at all. It had previously seemed important that I had obtained the money to purchase all of these surroundings, but why it had been important I couldn’t recall. I vomited up some of the gore I had eaten onto an Iranian silk carpet. Part of the vomit fell on my timber floor and flooded the joinery there.

By the time I had reached the back of my house I had built myself into a new fever of destruction. My intention was to pass through the vast glass doors that looked over my garden, and in doing so to shatter them with my incrdible strength. But in pressing against them it was apparent that ordinary matter had become permeable to my body, and it seemed easiest to pass directly through. Everything would always be easy now.

Trusting that my wife and child would be adequately maintained by the quantity of cash that was available to them, I arose from the earth and plunged to the depth of infinity. Sometimes people change, and that’s all there is to it, there’s nothing you can do about it, and it’s better for them to be apart.

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