Brothers (partial necro story in draft)

“Hey Eric, what are you going to do today?” his brother Johnny asked him optimistically when Eric finally emerged from his room for the day.

“I’m going to head on out to the cemetery for a while.  After that the day’s a mystery.” A strange smile crossed Eric’s face as he said the word ‘cemetery’.  Johnny didn’t think much of the odd grin.  Eric had always been a bit off.  He’d been through a lot over the years so Johnny never questioned his bizarre mannerisms.  It was best just to let Eric be Eric.

The two brothers shared a house and both had full time jobs.  Johnny worked for the parks department and Eric worked in the only local funeral home’s office.  Friday’s were Eric’s days off and he always slept late on those days, usually getting up around noon when his brother would come home for lunch. After the death of their mother the two became closer and had decided that they could easily rent a whole house if they became housemates.

Johnny had run away from home when he was sixteen years old, leaving Eric, then ten years old, to deal with their verbally abusive, overly religious mother.  After her death a year ago, Johnny came back to Concord, Michigan to do right by his brother.  He’d felt guilty about leaving him to live with that woman alone for nine years.  Now he was glad to be home and, for the most part, felt that he and his brother were healing and finally forgetting the past.

“So little bro, what do you have to do at the cemetery?”
“Just set some flowers around for a funeral tomorrow.  It should be easy work.”  There was that smile again, shining through as he said ‘easy work’.
“Don’t you have a florist that does that shit?” Johnny asked inquisitively, wondering why his brother, though a mere office peon, would have to do floral arranging.
“Deck’s Flowers closed down last week so we had to import the flowers from a place in Jackson.  They sent them by mail and since I’m the only one with time off on Friday they asked if I could arrange them at the plot.”  A tiny hint of untruthfulness could be heard in his words.  Eric couldn’t lie well but Johnny wondered what there was to lie about in the first place.

After considering the fact that his brother was a loner, had no friends, and didn’t appear to be doing drugs he let the matter be.  It was odd to lie about floral arrangements but Johnny thought that maybe, just maybe, his brother was lying to hide the fact he was going to see a girl or, though he didn’t care much for the idea, a guy. 
Well, him being gay would explain a few things I suppose but hopefully he’s found a nice woman to hang around.  Of course, if he had, why would he lie about it or cover it up?  Damn, maybe he is gay…oh well; whatever raises your dick I guess.

A few moments of silence passed while Johnny considered his brother’s motives then he decided he would get his brother to go out to dinner with him that night so they could discuss this “floral arrangement” lie.

“My boss said that if I had time before the end of shift that the cemetery could use a good mowing.  I might see you there.”
“I doubt it Johnny.  Flower arranging is pretty quick work from what I’ve seen.”  No smile, no lie, but a quiet fear had crept into Eric’s voice.  Eric wondered if his brother had caught on to something he had said.  Did his brother discover the lie?  He didn’t know, nor did he really want to.
“Well, maybe we could meet somewhere for dinner, my treat.  How about Macky’s?”
“Sure, what time?”
“How does five sound?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”  Eric felt relieved that his brother appeared satisfied with that answer.

Johnny gathered up some cheese and crackers for a work time snack then headed out to the car after cheerfully saying “goodbye”.

Eric watched him get in the car and then drive away down the street.  He was glad to be alone again.  He hated telling his brother lies but couldn’t avoid it.  After eating some Poptarts he headed up the stairs back into his room.  For a moment he stared at the blankness of the walls considering how his life had come to be so lonely and so strange.  His room was white walled without posters, decorations or adornments.  In the middle sat a cold looking white sheeted bed with black blankets.  The only window on the far right wall showed a dead tree from the yard.  There were no curtains.  The cold asylum feel of the room could always somehow calm his nerves but at the same time make him feel incredibly alone.  He proceeded into the white bar-less prison over to his clothes pile in the far left corner at the back of the room.  From the pile he gathered a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, giving each garment a good sniff before putting them on.  On the door was a body length mirror from which he got a glimpse of himself.  Thin, young, long sandy brown hair, blue eyes, everything a girl likes in a man.  That isn’t what he really saw though.  In his eyes all he ever sees in the mirror is a demon, deformed, vile, cursed, and above all, male.  From the time he was a toddler his mother screamed it into his head that men were evil, sinning creatures, their sex their damnation.  Every word of her hateful spews he believed was true simply because it was all he had ever heard.  Due to these abusive childhood teachings he came to fear women and also came to fear himself.  For these reasons he avoided women despite always having the natural urge to be with them intimately.  He finished zipping his pants and walked away from the mirror and out of his room.

Eric was no fool, he knew he was different and knew his thoughts weren’t going to be accepted as sane from any supposedly sane individual.  He had figured a way around the dilemma of sexual repression and knew that his solution was both taboo and sick but he just couldn’t keep himself from wanting someone to fuck.  Somewhere, somehow, he was going to get what he wanted and he knew now exactly where and how to take it.

Down the stairs he rushed and out the back door he went.  He got in his car and drove out to the cemetery.  It was a pretty drive, the pine trees and deciduous maples and elms a colorful sight to see.  Autumn was a lovely time, brisk but beautiful.  Eric enjoyed the dying season’s idea of decay.  The plants went out with such perfection.  He wished that humans could leave in such a nice way as well.  It’s a pity we can’t all look good and smell great on the way out.  Oh well, what can we do about it?  Nothing I suppose.
As he drove he thought about all the processes involved in life and death, how silly the traditions over the years had become and how much it all didn’t matter in the end.  His thoughts also went to the plan ahead and the tools in the trunk of the black Buick he was driving.  A few days before he had thrown a shovel, a pick-ax, and a crowbar in the back of the vehicle for the upcoming “flower arranging”.   Will this go well?  Will I need something more or will these things be enough?  He had never done it before and wasn’t sure if he could it well with what he had.

He entered the cemetery gates and sought a place to park along one of the many intertwining labyrinthine lanes.  It didn’t take too long to find a secluded area for his car not too far from the grave he was going to visit.  Eric parked the car and asked himself just what it was he had gotten himself into.  What if I’m found out?  There’s no going back now, I’ve made up my mind, but still…

His mind made up, he got out of the car and retrieved the tools from the back of the Buick.  With the spade shovel in his right hand and the pick-ax and crowbar in his left, he walked briskly to a grave close to the woods at the back of the graveyard.  There was a mound of dirt piled behind the stone marker he had walked to.

“Well, this is it.” Eric whispered to himself.  He was sweating from nervousness and the fear of being seen.  Nobody ever entered the cemetery on Friday’s because they were considered grounds maintenance days.  There was always room for error though and Eric knew this quite well.

After a few deep breaths he regained his confidence a little and started digging.  He remembered setting up the funeral and burial arrangements for the girl he was digging up.  She’d only been 18 at the time of her death.  She had overdosed on her first injection of heroin.  Eric remembered the picture he’d seen of her in the funeral home records.  The photo showed her to be pretty, not beautiful, but definitely far from ugly.  He didn’t think much about her death or her picture until the week before this venture.  He concocted a somewhat speedy plan to dig her up, do what he could, rebury her and leave.

He started digging.  After getting halfway down closer to the casket he realized the previous week’s plan was rather foolish and far too hasty.  Everything was going to take much longer than he had anticipated.  But there’s no going back now; not when I’ve come this far.

The digging took almost two hours and Eric knew time was growing very short.  Sweat was dripping from his face and his clothes were sticking to his skin from the dampness he was producing.  It was about 60 degrees but it felt a lot hotter to him.  He removed his black shirt.  His thin, somewhat muscled frame was a sight that any woman would have loved to see.  His jeans hung from his ass enticingly revealing the top of his butt crack just a little.  Beads of sweat rolled down his back into his pants.  If only he’d known his intense degree of masculine beauty perhaps he would not have to be at the cemetery on a Friday afternoon.   Firmly grasping the crowbar he’d brought with him he pried open the mahogany casket all his digging had revealed.  Before him, in a burst of stench as the casket creaked open, was a woman’s body.  Her mouth showed signs of brown decay, her skin glowed a sickly white and light blue.  There was no glory in what he was about to do but there was a hint of control and a sad version of sexual desire.  The thought of the sex alone was enough to harden him.  He hoped it would be enough to finish the act quickly, he didn’t think he could stand the smell for very long without puking.  Her death was not beautiful to him.  What he did find attractive was the fact that the body was female and was readily available without a voice, judgments, or a commitment.  These facts aroused him, turned him on and kept him hard.  He unzipped his jeans to show his bare, fully erect cock.  Time was slowing down for him now, he could feel it.

Eric pushed the dead girl’s funeral dress up around her waist.  She was as naked down there as he was; no underwear and, oddly enough, no bush.  There were more hints of brown decay around her twat and a newer, damper smell of death and rotting fish.  He resisted the urge to vomit and decided to put his cock in her mouth first.  His prior knowledge of the embalming procedures reminded him that her mouth was stitched shut.  In his left pocket he had a switch blade.  He flicked it up and carefully slid the blade between the corpse’s lips.  They opened easily and her jaw went slack.  

AUTHOR'S NOTE:::  This is draft 2 of this story and it is an incomplete draft.  Seems i get to writing and find things i can add to make it more descriptive, so it may be a little while before i finish it.  There's a good 7 pages of it written in a notebook, so i figure it's going to be a little longer than 5 when all typed out.  Stick around though, his story is a different one.  He and his brother may even encounter more than one dead body, who knows.  Extra Note:: Italicized words indicate a character's thoughts.


  1. Great! Dunno if its just me but im getting some bi-boi feelings.

  2. Hope to see more soon.

    1. It should be complete before the middle of September and i may add another soon after.

  3. Hope to see an update:)


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