First Kill
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The Pasta
Posted by s&man on /x/
Have you ever killed anything?
I will start the conversation by describing my first kill. It was a strange kill, something that I was almost forced into doing by my careless behavior.
My friends found a pitiful pup wandering the streets. He was dirty, skinny, and seemed to have some sort of spinal injury. My friend stopped and picked the pup up. She was going through a rough time in her life and couldn't take care of him. She asked if I could and I reluctantly accepted, on the condition that when she got her own place she would take the dog back.
Well I took care of the mutt for a couple weeks. By week two he really started growing on me. I think I started to love this pup, even though he gave me a considerable amount of difficulty (he was a bit crippled and old). This pup could barely bark and our schedules never aligned. This led to him pissing and shitting all over the floor while I was asleep. I dealt with it compassionately for a while, but this behavior started to frustrate me. Initially I blamed his physical condition for his troubles and thought it would get better as he convalesced. But even as he got stronger, the behavior continued. In fact it got worse. He didn't even bother to try to alert me of his need to piss or shit when I was awake.
One morning I awoke and got out of bed to find myself standing in a wet, stinky pile of shit and piss. This pushed me over the edge. I rubbed his face in it. Then i picked him up and dropped him. He landed on his back and the impact worsened his back condition. The dog was paralyzed. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't tell my friend, who was expecting this dog back, that I had made him a paraplegic. That would have ruined our relationship.
I was backed into a corner, the only option I saw was to dispose of the dog and tell her it died. I thought about just dropping him off somewhere, but then he would surely starve to death over several painful days. I couldn't do that to the pup I loved. His death would have to be quicker. I would have to kill him. I thought of several ways, but they all seemed too psycho (cutting his throat, smashing his head, etc.). Eventually I settled on smothering him with a balled up sheet.
I pressed my weapon to his face as hard as I could and held it there for what seemed like a very long time. He wouldn't die. I think it was because the thread count was so low.
I just wanted this to be over, so I filled the tub up and held him underwater. It took a long time to kill him. I looked him in the eyes as his struggled to breath in the water. It was terrible, but somewhat titillating. Though I felt bad, holding this animal's life literally in my hands made me feel powerful. My penis even began to swell.
I even began laughing at his failed attempts to inhale the water. STUPID FUCKING MONGREL.
I felt empowered.
I knew this wouldn't be my last kill.