Necrophilia Variations by
Supervert My rating:
1 of 5 stars I admit I only read one sample chapter but I just couldn't bring myself to read it all. I can stomach a lot of things but...Eww.
Excerpt 1:- a pediatrician started telling a story that had happened to him during his residency. A teenaged boy had been brought to the emergency room after trying to castrate himself. "Unfortunately," laughed the pediatrician, "he didn't understand that castration is not, in the technical sense, amputation."
An oncologist held out a bone from a turkey leg and let it drop into some cranberry sauce. "Did you reattach it?"
The pediatrician grimaced. "I couldn't. The boy's mother didn't bring it along. She couldn't bring herself to pick it up."
"She could have used a Pooper Scooper," said the radiologist.
"Or a pecker picker-upper," a male nurse suggested.
"Better yet," said the oncologist, picking the turkey bone out of the cranberry sauce, "she could have used shlong tongs to put it in a cock sock." He rolled the turkey bone inside a cocktail napkin and held it up.
Excerpt 2: I don't know how to say it exactly. After I had necrophilia for the first time? After I did necrophilia? After I engaged in necrophilia for the first time? After I became a necrophile? But is one time enough to transform a man into a necrophile per se? If I did it with another male just once in my life, I wouldn't be considered a homosexual -- would I? So why should I be considered a necrophile if I did it with just one you-know-what? Then again, you only have to kill one person to be considered a murderer. Maybe necrophilia is like that. It only takes once.
I don't know. But I do know that the next day everything was different. It was like losing your virginity all over again. I felt changed. If having sex for the first time makes you feel more like a man, what does having sex with a you-know-what make you feel like? More alive. You can't hold an inert thing in your arms without experiencing a rush of pure vitality through your own system. It heightens your awareness of who and what you are. You feel strong, alive, and grateful -- grateful to have this portion of life that is yours and will soon be gone, like the object of your affections. That's how I felt, really, though I know it's not what you'd expect. You have this caricature of the grave-robbing pervert, a creepy nerd who is either too weird or too shy to do it with "real" girls. But that's not what it was like at all. It was very moving and emotional. There were tenderness and sympathy, if not love. I felt sorry for her, and I felt like just maybe she'd be grateful to me for providing her with a little warmth at a time when the rest of humanity had abandoned her.
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