Sensational Soliciting

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A story about a serial killer pedophile and his stalker friend. Shenzo, a male in his early twenties, was diagnosed with mania, sociopathy, Schizophrenia, and pedophilia. He lives with dark fantasies, due to his troubling past. To compensate, he rapes and murders females. His coworker, Sho, is a depressed and disoriented criminal psychologist. On the side, he is a stalker who is in love with Shenzo and does everything for him, despite Shenzo not being able to reciprocate his feelings. A criminal and a criminal psychologist, companions? Why, yes. This is the tale of two corrupt minds and illegal activity. Shall there be punishment, or no resolve?

Thriller / Romance
Age Rating:


Chapter 1 ~ Coincidental

In the alley we had been, after a night full of sinful gin, delectably sweet and sour, perfect upon the night hour. She wore a dress, so sickly thin, extravagant and memory-drawn red. I could create my own red, superior. Her voice was deep and seductive, luring this predator in. I convinced myself I adored children, sexualized them without remorse. I preferred males to females, yet I was not the pickiest specimen. When she flashed me a manipulative leer, I was entranced by this wicked sheen of feminine beauty. I was not a virgin, but I was inexperienced with females. An extrovert who was secretly an extreme introvert. All I did was spend my time observing and reacting. Minus the reactions and I would be my introverted self, void of the extroverted shell.

My head pounded with alcohol, hands dancing across the soft and silky surface of her bosom cover, patching the slit of her lips. She moaned like the average whore, compliant and easy to capture. The scent of trash shook my form and caused me to rush my tactics, furiously grinding against her as if we were the only ones around. I wanted to cut open her cunt with my fingernails and feel the flow of blood roll down my arm. I wanted to slice her open with my fists and hammer my bone into her capsule.

I groped the woman before me, who was appreciative of my highly sex driven nature. I forged my body inside her delightful gem, slamming in, jerking about, raping her lipstick-sullied mouth to its enlightening core. She closed her eyes, submitting tremendously effortlessly, cathartic. In that precious blink of time, I coiled my estranged comportment around her beautiful breasts, forcing my knife in and plaguing her silly with gruesome, grisly wishes, victim to my temptations and impulse. A guttural scream was seized, captured, withheld; release me at once, predatory Shenzo! With that lack of compliance, I pushed both weapons inside, flooding her with blood and impregnation. An agonized moan tethered on the edge of her lips, her female garment squeezing around the knife and my non-dormant phallus. I heard her beg, unsympathetic responses following in suit.

“Forget this happened, otherwise you will see a vicious side of me.”

My actions were no mistake, nor did I have the capacity in my heart to accommodate remorse for them, therefore not a shred of guilt riddled my poisonous stature. She whispered an empty threat, followed by muttered cursing, words threaded together by a heave as she ostracized me. Blood was leaking and dressing my costly pants with the dripping darkness which befell me. It was the second woman I had impaired in the past month. The last woman deemed the situation unspeakable, and due to her fearful composition, had not returned to the scene, choosing instead to exclude herself from society’s keen eyes.

“I will see you sometime in the future, my dearly departed butterfly, drenched in feathers.”

Her breath was constricted to a withered husk. “Feathers...?”

“You tried to fly. You fell in water.”

She convulsed against me in her contrived getup, for many fretful seconds. I refrained from abandonment, observing her suffering state, heat drifting and arousal yanking my zipper short. Like a mutt, I wanted a continuous session, pampering my palpable paraphilia. The desire was derived from my decrepit upbringing. I disillusioned myself with deluded detriment, analyzing my mind, connecting the root of the issue to the current situation. I stumbled back into an achroous world stripped of meaning; bushwa.

As a child, my parents had conspired against society, filming their son explicitly in his attire of nude. I was fondled, molested, nearly raped on several occasions, innocence punctured. Characterized as young, I had ablepsia toward the cruel fetishizing of my guardians. Both were pedophiles, primarily attracted to children, though not exclusively. I was the star of child porn, which they had been abditive enough to hide from police, when interrogated and accited. I grew up in a destructive environment, tormented by distilled rage, partial to those who tried imposing their ebullient perceptions on me. I cowered in a cage of reckless self indulgence, scathing remarks rejected. I became incapable of feeling and sensing affection, dismissing the advances of my peers. I was tortured by my sexual attraction, from the age of thirteen. I felt immense attraction to myself when I was very young, mortified by my body on display, though curious.

When I became thirteen, I was aroused by other children, surveying the world for a reminder of who I once was. I projected myself on to others, searching for the one who would appreciate my aggression. Children were defenseless, oblivious, easily influenced.

Chinimi dialed the police number on her phone as I distracted myself by attesting my impulsive actions were false. I could not become romantically or emotionally attached to anyone.

“Not yet. Come home with me,” I growled, willing to use force if she resisted. She was more intelligent than that, nodding and collapsing against my frame. I could murder her before she gave birth to damnation incarnate.


I smeared her into hot water, pinning her neck down and requesting acrotism, smothering her with my buss. Blood tainted the tub, anonymity marking familiarity. I did not bear it, could not share it, the dark depths at the end of the cliff, a tunnel of turmoil leading to a land of floral. Her spine was a patch of crocodile scales, taupe in the illumination of my hallucination. Her skin was pallid, soaked in narcissism, color stolen by the brutal treatment of her parents. Ah, foolish Shenzo, thinking about yourself.

I yearned for her suffocating mind, lulled to rest by water swelling her organs and turning them to balloons. Avast, I chuckled, fingers invading her mouth and yanking her from the stillness by the roof. She choked on despair, agrizing, arising from heaven underground and joining me in a wasteland of hell above. I pulled on the ring of her nipple, inciting agitation and mocking her ruthlessly, tearing dried skin from her neck and professing my adoration for sputtering by doing such.

She slid her hand over mine, proposing a pandemian act of prostitution. In fear, she attempted to separate all distance, teasing my emotions and contorting my intentions into a parade of distortion. This female, I needed to release my sadism on her, not appreciate her care. She was manipulative, gambling for my anticipative self, which existed, fleeting, ideal. If she managed to extort it from me, there would be vengeful consequences in suit.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she gasped as I raked my nails against her leg, which breathed blood, gritty.

The only person belonging in my life was a coworker named Sho, whose appetite for me expanded over the horizon, his snarky childish demeanor imploding. He was akin to a puppy, following by the arm, maximizing his appeal when he asked for a visit after work. I had sex with him when the lust for children became overwhelming, holding him and confessing. He was the one I trusted. I confided in him and spoke of the troubling head atop this eagerly aroused statue. It happened while we were drunk, groping each other against hotel bed sheets. I could not handle a proper relationship, and he was aware.

“Something of the sort.”

I rammed my elbow against the back of her neck, jerking her forward with a hand digging into her skull, her nose cold against the side of the tub. She wailed in desperation, particularly when I ravaged her shoulder and drew more blood from her leaking museum of a body. The skin was stained an astonishing red. She arched in terror and enticed with her inaudible elation, endermic for my burden. She blatantly befuddled me, loathsome and lonesome. I did not understand humans, and had been diagnosed with sociopathy.

“Why are you squirming like a worm while you push your ass against me?” I snickered, mulling over the taction.

“Nn... you’re the one pushing against me! Police!”

“No one can hear you. If you scream loud enough, they might rise up from the dead and give a damn.”

Coming to the realization that I was a murderer, she scrambled to stand, slipping in the water and injuring her knee. What a bitch.

“You’re disgusting! You need help!” she insisted.

“There is no helping someone corrupt. I resemble... a fowl.”

She did not pry, as surmised, conceitedly crabbing her body from my torso, twisting and clutching the tub. I pompously positioned her on my lap, noting her neck was pertinent. The crocodile gave essence to the prey, sustaining an attachment distance, poisoned by rage and henpecked violence. The gamma rays ventured the spindle of my brain, winding around and about. The orphan in my heart followed the trail of madness provided, yearning for fulfillment. Chinimi lurched back and was obediently transferring her data to my head. I analyzed, observed the reactions, studied her every motion. I did not want another one falling for me. This was troubling. I could not sympathize with my victims. I needed a beautiful experiment. Knowing Sho would oblige and enjoy pain inflicted on him, I did not pester him with harm.

“You fucking creep... why do you do this?”

“Distracting myself from what I truly want. Dispelling my desires.”


“I will show you.”


February 11th, 1996.

I numbed the back of my mind with lifeless sex. I thought of Sho and children, as if it was inexorable to do so. Gnawing, gnawing at the insanity in my heart, she is. Pawing at my emotions, wanting to gain a reaction. She submitted to me too quickly. I injected her with a syringe. Sho was a doctor in the past, therefore he has some spare syringes. I can use the same one repeatedly, if I disinfect it. He does everything for me, like a dog. After raping Chinimi, I brought her home and teased her in the tub. I brought her to my house and locked her in the basement for the night, cold. I love sliding myself between freezing thighs. I made the addition of a basement in the house for the benefit of my hobby. The house is trashy, an absolute mess. Bringing a child inside would be miraculous. If I can bring women in, I can bring my desire closer. For now, I will settle with Sho and this bitch.

I closed the notebook, which had been used as my diary for days. I did not write in it daily, however much I wanted to. Certain entries were typed. Some were shredded and tossed in the can.

“Ya writin’ in that again? Makes me wanna read it. You write about your love for me or somethin’? Ya should drink with me tonight. Sad to think about ya eatin’ alone and such. You even live without power sometimes. Might as well date me, huh? I love ya, Shenzo. Our bodies are compatible,” Sho murmured, hands against my shoulders as he leaned in, crouching behind me. He was taller than me. “Your red hair, your red eyes, your cute attitude and temper.”

“You should be at home. You’re drunk.”

“Came here to see you. Was hopin’ to get ya up on that desk and... mmm....”

“I won’t cater to your fantasies. You only think with your crotch,” I retorted, glancing up at him as he puffed out smoke. “No smoking indoors.”

“Ya aren’t fun at all! I read some of it, because ya ain’t gonna be direct with me. Readin’ that sad shit makes me wanna hold you, ya know? Always sufferin’ alone. Come on, Shenzo, pretend I’m one of the boys. You can tell me anythin’. I told ya all of it when we met, about my life. You hide things. I’ll tell ya what I did yesterday. After work, I went home and thought of this ferocious, cute tiger in his work suit, and found porn with a similar looking man. Ya can guess what happened. After that I drank, and a lady called, asking if I was free. I told her yes. When I went to her place, she was all rubby, touchy, seducin’ me with her outfit and drinkin’ with me. When she tried kissing me, I bit her, pushed her away, and told ‘er I was gay! She asked for proof, so I took her home and showed her all the photos I have of you. She ran quickly. I ate while talkin’ to my mom on the phone, then fell asleep. Now what did you do?” he rambled, rumbling words from within his throat. He had black hair, blue eyes, and the Kansai dialect.

Being an anomaly, I was unable to criticize Sho’s obsession with me, despite it being disturbing, according to standards created by the public. His hobby was mindless and childish, whereas mine was criminal and repulsive. He contributed with information about his pictures and life to me, which in turn helped me to gradually open up. He confessed to taking photographs of me whenever I was vulnerable. He lived across the street from me, after all.

“I raped a girl and... she’s at my place.”

“Brief as always. Ya want me to call the police? Kiddin’. You chose the right man to tell. The one with mental issues like yourself. You could see your kind. I think the thing you did to your parents was worse. Ya told me about that months ago, and the police aren’t comin’ after you. I told ya to tell me anything! I’ll do anything for you. I got here early just to speak to you, and was hopin’ we could do something more... ya won’t fall for her, right? If you do, I....”

I pushed the chair back, hearing him wince when it slammed against his legs. I rose and confronted his besotted, love soaked brain, securing my scampish trait. “You are a fool I fuck. I have no romantic interest. I only know sexual desire. I can’t love children. You act like a child, yet you aren’t one. You will never suit my fancy.”

He glowered. “You can’t love because you can’t sympathize. I’m a psychologist, Shenzo! Consult me. I want to teach you. I fell for you because I knew you wouldn’t cheat... your devotion amazed me. I even joined that pedophile website for you. I’ll do anything for you. I’m tired of being cheated on. I can’t have sex with someone who isn’t you. I’ll find child porn for you, if you bring me home with you.”

“C-Child porn? All this time, I never found it. What makes you think you will?” I demanded, gritting my teeth as light bled through the peeled blinds. It was nearly time to begin working.

“I have a new acquaintance. I pretend to like little girls, to get along with him. He told me he would send some to me, of little boys, despite it not being in my interest. I admit to being jealous. I want you to think of me as much as I do you. I’m selfish.”

When Sho dropped his accent, it meant he was serious, juxtaposing to his general personality of eccentricity and flirting. He had a difficult childhood, though it did not damage him psychologically. He feigned a readily excitable attitude. In him dwelled a drowsing beast, intoxicated by emotional demolition. Sho had extreme depression and threatened to kill himself if I did not visit him regularly. He worshipped me, made me his reason for living. What a distasteful fiend with soiled buds.

Disoriented, he was, yet not to the dementia constructed mind of mettled lacerations that I owned. His parents had fought all his life, threatening to divorce, though not having the excess of money to do so. He watched his parents become violent physically and grasp for insults to spew. He became fearful of females when his mother resorted to beating his father, then murdering him. Sho claimed I reminded him of his father, and that he had always clung to his father when his mother grew furious.

In the past, Sho had lured me into his house and grown grim, instructing me to sit on the sofa as he stood before me and voiced his dark side, the secret desire which taunted him.

Sho had cannibalistic tendencies, and to control his lust for human meat, he cut skin off his finger and ate it. Shakily, he spoke of it with a Band-Aid wrapped around his thumb.

“To hold back on my cannibalistic desires, I write of what I want to do,” I had whispered to him as he went off on a tangent and started sobbing, stating he had the inclination because it had been passed down by his father. He wanted a reprieve, rather than to act on his fantasies, repenting in silence for his compelling thoughts. He was relieved to hear that I had the same desire, though not to the aching extent in which he had it.

That was when I shared my sexual attraction with him, and, guilty, he offered to have sex with me. Since that day, we had a strong bond, and he bristled with love for me.

“In that case, I will come over tonight. I need to feed Chin-” I replied, biting my tongue and swallowing error as he teased with his smug smirk.

“What was that? Go on, Shenzo,” he prompted, “Chin? That reminds me of Chinimi. She and I were good friends in the past, ’til she decided to try to get into my pants. When I refused, she nearly forced me. You ever met her?”


“The one you raped isn’t Chinimi? Not like I mind. Was a bitch to me. Ya goin’ to protect your man or not, Shenzo? ‘Sho, I love you, I’m the only one who can rape you!’”

“Cut the horse shit. You know I can’t love.”

“I’ll see ya ‘round. Gotta figure out how to pretend I’m not drunk. Surprised I ain’t talkin’ like a chicken. Need to clear my head ’fore I see someone. O-Oh, boss! Nice to see you up here!” he fumbled, staring at the man in statement, who frowned at Sho yet could not remain angry. Sho was the ever so resilient and substantial bulb in the room of widowed souls.

Whereas Sho was a criminal psychologist, I was an office worker for criminology. I did all the paperwork for him. It would be hypocritical to become an officer while astonishing myself with illegal activity and unjust compulsions. Sho was the psychologist who studied criminals, and I used his information as reference. I trusted he knew me best, and longer than any minuscule presence had. I would not execute him. He was beneficial to my self understanding.

“No sleeping on the job, Shenzo!” that flea of a boss spat.


“ for the information regarding Takamura, we do not have enough to make a proper analysis of his character. I would rather focus on you. You’re fascinating. If-”

“Don’t flatter me, Sho. I’m not in the mood. Give me what you promised and we’ll fuck.”

The dim lighting shed glory on the melanic catastrophe in the mirror across from us. The man beside me downed more whiskey, leg propped on a damaged table, his personality a delicacy amongst impressionable, influenced brains. Sho was not swayed by irritation. Rather, he felt deep despair tousling his train of thought tendril. It was not my intention to offend him, nor was it in his nature to become reactive.

“If I mean nothing to you, get out. Am I just some frilly fuck frenzy, compliant enough to become your dog and let you bite the shit out of me? You remind me of a boy I used to live with in an apartment complex. He was a robot who looked like a human. His father abandoned him. The boy lived off of sex. If he did not have it every five hours, he would go into shock and die. I became his sex friend, to help him live. He knew I was in love with him, so he fucked other people, hoping I would forget about him. I replaced his father figure. I became so controlling, the boy ran away, and I haven’t seen him since. Do you know how traumatizing it was? How are you any different? Finding random people to fuck, though you have me. You know how I feel, so why...? Is it funny to you? I know you’re a sadist, Shenzo.”

His voice was slurred and pouty, emptying the silence in the room, life protruding, illuminating. His words were not gel in his hair. They were full of contempt and compassion, distraught anguish. He gripped his body and started sobbing as he had two years prior to that moment. Sho’s depression was caused by longing, denoting he shall pertain to the needs of myself, not himself. His emotional instability was the reason for his false yet upsetting story swirling forth, frothy feelings foreshadowing his next action.

He raised his fist in recoil of the untold dream facilitation in his body, poising it above me. I winced and closed my eyes, peeking out a moment later to notice the war in his eyes, two halves shooting cannons across the turf. “I could never hurt you, even if you’ve hurt me so much.”

“You mean more to me than anyone else does. You know more than the others, and I don’t beat you during sex like I do with them. You give me what I want. You’re not afraid of me. I can be cold. I cannot love or care. At the very least, I have a bad way of expressing myself. Tell me if I’m doing something wrong, instead of scolding. I came here because it’s you.”

“How cute. I want you, Shenzo. Between my legs, on top of me. I love you so much. I’ll do anything for you....”

“You will be jailed for that child porn,” I muttered.

“The man told me how he gets by the police. The mention of children has you hard now. You’re funny. F-For me, instead... you should become like that. Come on. We’ll watch it together and have fun.”

I felt a tremor in my abdomen, shuddering at the sight of him tugging at his suit tie and lighting a third cigarette. A single whiff of his familiar smoke had me aroused with visions of pinning him to the floor and molesting his mantra of manifesting despondency. I revoked his right to contribute to my undivine, incomposed, repulsive satisfaction.

“You chose this, Sho.”


The bed rocked tantalizingly, shifting under our weight as he pounded life into me, relentlessly jarring my soul open as he filled me with proof of his feelings for me. I grinded against the mattress, hallucinating a boy beneath me, pulled to the loose reality of a man as his penis swelled and pulsed with horny, dazed youth. The sound of a small boy whining and sulking out broken pleas struck me with asphyxiated yearn. I bellowed a dizzied lilac, rich violet sound streaming from my mouth as golden pants unsheathed from Sho’s frame. He danced sweat across my shoulders, burrowing his face in my neck and biting, searing his crotch in my opening. He scorned me into temporary submission, jerking his hand across my firmly taut sex and digging his fingernails inside.

“Shenzo, Shenzo....” he trailed off, voice an echo against the overbearing sexual acts of children with an anonymous man. Sho played his violin well, shamelessly strumming words. “I love you... never... go home.”

I reacted to the rumbling decay of his sifting stiff. He twisted his body to meet mine, vocalizing his appreciation for this double life leading coworker. He rocked against an enigma, draining my lungs out with every heave and orgasm contact. Soundlessly, I spilled against the sheets, watching the computer on the brink of child-like euphoria.

“You peed a little,” he noted, tickling my head and trying to yank an immature reaction of flustered degradation from me. “The video was interesting. So this is what you like, huh?”

“I have synesthesia, Sho. Your voice is golden. Rare.”

“So cute, Shenzo, bringing up something entirely random. That’s no way to profess your love for a man. How was it? You were so erect. I wonder if it was because of the child....”

“Do it again,” I coaxed, entrancing him, titillating his drunken brain and seducing him with my body on display. He could not resist, as expected of him.

Sho could be used.

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