Necro Files: Two Decades of Extreme Horror

“Carl is a trusted friend and ally,” Harvey said, motioning for Dennis to have a seat. “I knew you were okay when you mentioned Carl sent you. I don’t trust people that are referred to me by people other than Carl.”

“Neither do I,” Dennis said.

“You said you were going to buy the necro publication Carl had?” Harvey asked.

Dennis nodded. “Yes. He said you bought it last night, that you’re a fellow …”

“Enthusiast?” Harvey smiled. “I suppose I am.” He paused for a moment. “I take it you are interested in similar material?”

Dennis nodded. “Very much so.”

“I think I may be able to help you.”

Dennis felt a burst of excitement. “That would be great.”

“Tell me something,” Harvey said, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “What do you do for a living?”

Dennis hesitated a moment, then plunged on ahead. “I’m a financial analyst.”

Harvey nodded. “I see. The reason I’m asking is that the group has pretty specific membership requirements. They like for fellow members to be professionally employed.”

“Well …”

Harvey smiled. “Don’t worry. I take it that with your job title you have at least a Bachelor’s Degree and that you make at least fifty k a year. Correct?”

Dennis nodded. Actually he made quite a bit more than that but he wasn’t going to tell Harvey.

Harvey rose to his feet. “Come with me. I think I have just what you’re looking for.”

Dennis followed him to the next room, which appeared to be an office. Harvey opened a file cabinet with a key and rifled through it. He extracted a glossy paged magazine wrapped in plastic and handed it to Dennis, who took it in trembling hands. “Is this the kind of material you’re looking for?”

Dennis looked at it. The dead girl with the severed throat glared at him, her eyes lifeless. Dennis nodded. “Yes.”

“If you’d like, I can give you some time alone with it. Perhaps thirty minutes?”

“That would be great.” Dennis tried to keep his excitement at bay.

“After that, all I have to ask of you are three things,” Harvey said. “The first: make sure you stay employed. We have our reasons for insisting on this policy, the main reason being that when you begin to acquire a taste for the type of material we’re into, it can get rather expensive. We’d rather have you indulge with money you are making honestly. We have no desire to have the police come poking around should you resort to a life of crime in order for you to pay for your habit. Agreed?”

Dennis nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. Number two, your being employed is actually a benefit. It automatically separates you from a lot of the other hardcore freaks out there. We have no desire to associate with drug addicts, ex-porn stars, the homeless, or other degenerates. What we do is in the privacy of our own homes. We don’t hurt anybody. We are simply working professionals with similar interests. Agreed?”

Dennis nodded. “And the third?”

“That when you are finally admitted to our group you bring us some materials. An offering, if you will.” Harvey smiled. “It doesn’t matter what it is … a loop of some junkie getting fucked by a Doberman … a torture flick … some chicken hawk stuff for the pedophiles in our group. But you’ll score big points if you can procure some necro flicks or some snuff. And not the fake crap, either. We’re seasoned veterans and we can spot fake a mile away.”

Dennis nodded. “Yeah, I think I can do that.” What the hell are you thinking? Where the hell are you going to find more of this kind of stuff?

Harvey clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you will. Now why don’t I leave you alone for awhile?”

And he did just that. Harvey left Dennis alone in the office, pointing out a box of Kleenex and a bottle of lotion on the desk. He closed the door behind him, leaving Dennis alone.

Dennis sighed, opened the magazine to the spread of the decayed old woman, and felt his dick grow hard at the sight of the anonymous penis penetrating the rotting flesh of her stomach, and then he began to jack off.

* * *

When Bob Lansing called Dennis into his office the following day he was exiting another meeting regarding the CPM project. Dennis thought Bob wanted to pick his brain some more about the project, but as he closed the door to Bob’s office he saw his superior’s features were grave. “Sit down, Dennis,” Bob said.

Dennis sat down, his stomach growing leaden. He’d been feeling uneasy since exiting Harvey Panozzo’s house yesterday. He’d driven home wondering if anybody saw him leave the house. Ever since bringing himself to orgasm yesterday courtesy of the necrophilia publication, he felt like he was under scrutiny now, as if everybody around him suddenly knew he was different from them. It was a feeling that had chased him throughout the day.

“What’s up?” Dennis asked Bob as he settled into his seat.