Sex and Murder Magazine

By Stuart Hughes

I guess he must love me, in his own way, because he looks after me. I’m an invalid and he patiently feeds me. When I dribble, he spoons it off my chin without a grumble.

I guess he must love me, in his own strange way, because he carefully picks me up and lays me down on the bed. Then he gently spreads my lower stumps and tenderly enters me.

I guess he must love me, in his own bizarre way, otherwise he would have severed my head when he hacked off my arms and chopped off my legs.