The door clicked shut. John was shoved into a hard metal chair with his hands cuffed behind him, while the two detectives he’d chosen to confess to sat opposite him. A single fan whirred slowly above them, and a plain black camera stared at him from a corner, the little red light in its frame flashing on and off.

Neither woman said anything. They stared in silence, giving him ample opportunity to drink them in. The feisty one, Isabella, leaned forward and steepled her fingers in front of her hard face, her brow furrowed in a challenging glare. She was a shorter, somewhat skinny Hispanic woman, her skin bronzed by ample time in the sun and her sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Her black hair shimmered as it hung down her back in a smooth ponytail, and though her uniform covered most of her body, John knew from experience that there was lean muscle all throughout her body. She was a model officer of the law, fit and sharp—or as fit and sharp as any woman could be.

The other regarded him with more curiosity than animosity. Rachel leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed under her breasts, her skin pale and her full lips pressed together uncertainly. She had her head cocked at a slight angle as she regarded him. It was cute, if he was being honest, and he found himself imagining what she’d look like with his dick draped across her face.

“I suppose I’ll start, then,” John said. Neither woman’s expression changed. His smile widened as he went into his story.

---

As pretentious as it sounds, they say every story is best told from the beginning, so where better to start my tale than from the first victim I ever had? I won’t bother you with the details of my upbringing or my struggles, because that’s not what I brought you here for, and not what you’re interested in either way.

My senior year in college, the Gay-Straight Alliance held a parade for Pride Month. They held one every year, actually, but I’d never attended. It never interested me when I could spend that time getting drunk with my friends and fucking spaced out college girls too stupid to turn down drinks from strangers. But my friends were busy with exams or final projects at the time, and I was left alone with nothing to entertain myself. So I thought, why not?

I still clearly recall the energy in the air as I stood on a downtown street corner and watched the queers march and dance and sing. They dressed in aggressive colors and sang at the top of their lungs, pounding drums and blowing brass with enough volume to make your ears ring.

I can’t say exactly why I chose her. Maybe it was truly random. She was young, probably a freshman. You can always recognize them by their attitude, that optimism they carry when they’re experiencing life away from their parents for the first time in their lives. She had her hair dyed a dark green and cut short, and piercings in her ears and nose decorated with cheap jewelry. She thought herself a lesbian—I could tell from the plastic wristband she wore that announced as much, as if that was the only important thing she had to say about herself—but I like to imagine she might’ve turned straight before she died. Maybe she’d just never had a real dick before.

---

“That’s not how that works, asshole.”

John blinked. He looked up to Isabella, who was glowering at him with open contempt. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lesbians aren’t just straight women who’ve never had dick before,” she growled. “Though I guess it tracks that you’d be a bigot, too.”

He cocked his head in interest, smirking as he looked between the two detectives. “How would you know? You ever let a man fuck you to find out, detective?”

“We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you. Keep going.”

---

Right. Now where was I?

Ah, yes. Dyed green hair, lesbian wristband, piercings. She was wearing a pair of capris and a baggy tie dye tank top with a sports bra underneath, but I think what really caught my attention was her tits. She was a skinny girl, all bones and sharp-nosed, but even under the sports bra I could tell she had an impressive rack. Those things were two sizes too big for her, bouncing and swaying around every time she jumped and cheered or struck some silly dance move.

I hadn’t intended to do anything with her, not really. She was just a fun piece of eye candy, look but don’t touch. That all changed when she and her girlfriend started arguing, and one of them pulled the other into an alley. On impulse I stopped at the mouth of that alley and listened to them fight with each other, the accusing words. The pretty one, the one who had caught my eyes, started crying, and her girlfriend flipped her hair and stormed off. She never even noticed me. I’m not sure she would have noticed a train wreck.

I’m not sure what exactly came over me then. It’s not like I went to the parade specifically to rape some random lesbian, but in that moment I knew I would have her, and I certainly knew she wouldn’t be interested in me. But why let a little something like a woman’s consent get in the way of my satisfaction?

She made it so easy. It wasn’t a big city, exactly, but the alley was plenty dark, perfect for making a naive young girl disappear for a little while. I hesitated, too long really, expecting someone to come for her, expecting her to leave. She didn’t. She seemed crushed that she had gotten dumped today of all days. The poor thing had lost her partner to enjoy the celebrations with. Luckily I was there to provide.

I stepped into the alley, grabbed her, and pulled her deeper in. It wasn’t until her back was pressed against the wall behind the dumpster, out of sight of the street, that she managed to get her wits together enough to start asking questions. “Who are you?” she asked. She had a breathy, high-pitched voice. Very cute.

“Don’t worry about that,” I told her. She tried to pull back, but she was far too weak to break my grip, and for some strange reason didn’t call for help. God, I was so stupid back then. Just imagine, if she had shouted all those girls would still be alive. But she didn’t, and it cost lives. Life is strange.

She whimpered as I pinned her between my arms, her cute little lips quivering with fear. I was head and shoulders taller than her. She was almost so short she could jerk me off with those cushy tits without even having to bend her knees. I grabbed her jaw in one hand and turned her head to the side, leaning in to smell her soft skin. She didn’t wear any perfume, but the smell of her sweat was more than sufficient to turn me on. As I brought my other hand up to squeeze at her breasts through her tank top, she found her voice.

“I d-don’t want this.”

It was a shaky whisper, barely audible through the sound of the crowd in the street. I could’ve ignored it, but I chose not to.

“I don’t care,” I told her, sliding my hand up to wrap firmly around her throat. “Take your pants off.”

She began to cry, her pretty blue eyes turned up to the sky as if in prayer. I tightened my grip on her skinny neck and she rushed to comply, her strengthening sobs causing her heavy tits to bounce against my chest. Ah, I was already rock hard by then. I wonder if she could feel my cock pulsing against my trousers, rubbing up against her as her fingers twitched down and hooked into the hem of her capris. Of course she didn’t want it, but she was smart enough to obey me. If she hadn’t then I would’ve snapped her neck like a twig right then and had my way with her corpse.

I lost my patience as her pants fell against her ankles. I pulled her panties down myself, practically ripped them from her thighs, shoved a finger up into her cunt. She cried out, and I snarled as I grabbed her shoulder and flipped her around, pressing her face into the hard brick wall.

“Shut up,” I hissed. She sobbed out some response about having money to offer, but I didn’t care to listen. I kept one hand on the back of her head, holding it harshly against the wall, while the other grabbed her hips and pulled her ass into my groin.

There’s something magical about the feel of a woman’s ass wrapped around my cock. I slid my trousers down to my ankles and pulled my meat out, already throbbing hard. I placed it between her soft buttocks and began to grind against her. She was so soft, Detective. Soft and warm, with an ass perfectly sized to pleasure my shaft, her cheeks tensing and rippling around me with every sob. I slid a hand up the front of her shirt, under her sports bra, and groaned into her ear as I felt the bare skin of her tit. I squeezed until she cried for me to stop.

---

“Do you have to be so explicit?”

John’s grin widened. “It’s only the truth, Detective.”

Isabella narrowed her eyes at him. Her slender fingers tapped irritably against the table. “I don’t need to hear about what gets you hard whenever you rape an innocent woman.”

“No?” John leaned back and nodded towards the camera blinking silently in the corner. “You’re sure you aren’t going to take this recording home and touch yourself to it? Imagine what it’d be like to have a man take charge?”

Her lips pressed together and her hands balled up into tight fists, but she didn’t say anything. He spent a few seconds watching her in silence, imagining how she’d look naked. How she’d look sobbing around his cock.

“Well, unless you’d like me to stop my confession, I’ll get back to it.”

---

There’s something so invigorating about taking a woman against her will. I’d had sex before then, of course, and so I knew what it was to be a man, to take a woman who is normally tame and modest and reduce her to a shivering mess in the bedroom. Women are weak that way, see. They’re helpless with a cock inside them, enslaved to bodies designed to take seed and give birth. That’s just their nature, to submit and be bred, just as it’s in a man’s nature, in my nature, to dominate and own.

But this was the first time I had ever felt the power of truly taking a woman, embracing my natural place in the world. You can’t imagine the feeling unless you’ve been there yourself. This wretched girl wanted nothing in the world more than to be away from me, to be safe and happy, but she would never get that again, purely because I willed it. She could only tremble and beg as I held her head against that wall and groped at her tits and lined my cock up with her slit. It was the hardest I had ever been in my life. The most alive I had ever felt.

She squealed as I forced my way inside her. She was so tight, no doubt clenching in some misguided hope that she could keep me out, but she was just a woman, and the added pressure only made me groan in pleasure.

To be honest, I don’t remember many of the details at that point. I have no recollection of how much time I spent in that alley, reaffirming my life as a man. I can only remember the sensations, the smells, the sounds. I remember the sound of her voice as she begged me to stop between gasps and sobs, the way it began shrill and frantic and then faded to a quiet, breathless drone as she decided to pray to God instead. But of course God wasn’t there to save her. She should’ve prayed to me.

I remember the sharp slaps of my thighs against her ass, the way that she would tense and clench whenever I tightened my grip around her fat tits or thought to pinch her puffy nipples and rub them between my fingers. I remember the velvety wet embrace of her pussy, the way I had to grunt and struggle to get into her at first, but it became easier as time passed, as her body surrendered and grew wet for me. The feel of her wetness splattering and dripping down my balls, hot and thick. The way her back glistened as sweat dripped down her body.

I remember when her aimless muttering stopped completely. She was so still for a moment I wondered if she had passed out, but luckily not. She instead suddenly burst into motion, her arms flailing awkwardly back, her hands slapping against my shoulders and her trim nails trying to dig into my flesh. When that didn’t work she braced her hands on the wall and lifted her legs, trying to kick at me, but all she did was cause me to fuck her harder when her heels came up and slapped against my ass. And then she drew in a breath and I realized she was finally going to scream.

My hand flew up and wrapped tight around her throat. I squeezed, her scream dying before it could escape, and her cunt squeezed around me in turn. She clenched so tight I could barely manage another thrust, but I gnashed my teeth and forced myself balls deep into her unwilling pussy, glaring down into her eyes and reveling in the terror and dismay I saw reflected back at me.

There was a moment of clarity as I found myself hilted inside her, my balls twitching, and I held her tight as I pumped my cum deep into her body and claimed her as my own.

---

John stopped talking, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling wistfully. He’d worked himself up, and he wondered if the detectives could see his dick pressing against the seam of his pants. He had closed his eyes as he took himself back to the happy moment, and couldn’t help but let out a quiet groan right there in the interrogation room.

“And then?”

John opened his eyes, returning his gaze to Isabella’s. She looked uncomfortable, the hardness in her expression fading as her piercing stare flicked away from him. He saw the other detective, Rachel, leaned against a corner with one hand held over her mouth and her cheeks flushed red. She too looked away from him, running a hand through her hair and biting her lip.

“Imagining yourselves in her situation?” he asked with a wry smirk. “I can indulge your curiosity if you take the cuffs off.”

“And I can beat your face in with my fist,” Isabella shot back.

“Yes, you can, because I’m cuffed.” John hummed and twisted his wrists, causing the cuffs to rattle behind him. “Could you do that if my hands were free, though? You’re a strong woman. You look like you hit the gym every day. I maybe go for a jog every other day, but I bet I could still knock you on your ass with one punch.” He leaned forward, openly leering at her tits concealed within her tight-fitting blouse. “Why don’t you give me your best shot? See if all your hard work is enough to beat out simple testosterone.”

“I’m not letting you get under my skin that easy,” she said, with too much conviction. “Just get on with your story. You’re obviously enjoying it.”

---

I needed a moment to catch my breath after I emptied my balls into the slut. I let her fall to the dirty alley floor and watched as she curled up and began to sob into her hands. It was a hypnotizing sight, the way my cum dripped down the curve of her thigh, mixed in with a trickle of blood. I had half a mind to take her for another round.

But with my load spent and my dick softening I finally realized just how reckless I was being, and I knew I needed to avoid any loose ends. Now in the Boy Scouts they taught me to never leave home without my knife. It’s a versatile tool like no other. So I pulled out my switchblade, grabbed her shoulder, and rolled her over onto her back.

She didn’t even fight me. I owned her, and she knew it. She just stared up at me through the tears, still leaking cum from her pussy. I pushed the blade into her throat slowly, curious to see how she’d react.

She let me do it. I watched her eyes flutter and listened to her gurgles as blood began to well and bubble from her lips. Her tits bounced as she began to spasm, and I couldn’t resist the urge to rip her tank top open, roll her sports bra up, and watch them ripple as stray flecks of blood landed on her pale, soft skin. I began to get hard again as I straddled her hips and kneaded at her breasts, and I was so distracted that I didn’t realize she was still alive for minutes.

But then a passing car horn from the parade brought me back to my earlier concerns. I pulled the knife out and stepped back to let her legs kick and her hands twitch and her blood spray across the alley until she finally fell still. I recall being somewhat surprised as she pissed herself in her final moments, but then the alley already reeked of urine, so I suppose it was only fitting.

I cleaned myself on her thigh, pulled my pants back up, and tossed her limp carcass into the dumpster. My heart was pounding as I stepped out of that alley and rushed home, and I barely left my apartment for weeks. Every time I heard footsteps walking past my door I was certain it was the police coming for me.

I turned on the television one day and saw the news reporting her body being found, just then, over two weeks after I’d killed her.

---

“Can you believe it?” John shook his head with a quiet chuckle. “Did they not empty that dumpster for two weeks? Or were they just so careless that they didn’t even notice a dead girl in the bin until they finally got around to processing it? Do you think she spent a week lying untouched in some landfill, baking under the sun? Maybe a pack of dogs tore off a leg, or a crow ate her eyes?” He sighed and leaned back. “I bet the company that handles waste collection for the city barely pays its employees.”

Isabella felt sick. How could this monster say such terrible things without even blinking an eye, then go off on some tangent about municipal budget without blinking an eye? She exchanged a glance with Rachel, and was concerned to see her partner blushing like a schoolgirl.

She stood abruptly. “Do you want some water?”

“Hmm?” John blinked, then smiled. “Well, it would be nice. I do have quite a bit more confessing to do, after all.” He paused, then added, “It’s sweet of you to be so concerned for me.”

She didn’t justify the comment with a response. All she knew was she needed to get some air.

She turned to Rachel and beckoned with a jerk of her head, then made for the door.