1 . Name: TeratoMarty @ 2011-12-14 23:14

Necrophilia warning, and I'm not talking y-a-o-i. Thanks to Sgt Sparxx for providing the inspiration.
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Removing one’s own Respawn chip was a tricky procedure. Not technically demanding, but it required that the Medic squint down his sternum and hold his breath as he worked. He was getting a crick in his neck, but that would hardly matter, soon. He had taken off his clothing before starting, folding it neatly on a chair, so as to avoid getting it bloody.

With a slight huff of satisfaction, he pulled the little device free and set it fastidiously in a kidney pan. He treated himself to a dose of the Medigun’s vapour, healing the wound. Everything had to be perfect. Finally, he got as comfortable as possible on the gurney, slid an intravenous needle into his cubital vein, and started the lethal flow of sodium pentobarbital into his body. He waited eagerly as the blackness welled up to claim him.

Five minutes later, the Medic adjusted his tie as he strode out of the Resupply room. This vagary of the Respawn system had been a windfall beyond his wildest dreams. The chip had been implanted close to each mercenary’s centre of mass. If it was destroyed or separated from the body, the Respawn program assumed that said body had been likewise destroyed or blown apart, and made a new copy. However, without the chip in place, the teleporter technology could no longer locate the sundered corpses and recycle them as the organic basis for new bodies. The sight of what the men called “giblets” strewn around the field after battles had been the inspiration for this particular... experiment.

The German’s heart was pounding as he approached the Infirmary door. He had locked it behind him before beginning the evening’s operations, and his hand trembled slightly as he keyed in the code. He forced himself to open it slowly, and to lock it behind him again before allowing himself to look at what awaited him on the gurney.

Confident that he would not be disturbed, the Medic finally turned. He was practically salivating- and why wouldn’t he? His exacting preparations had been worthwhile- there was no effluvium, no bloody purge, no awkward signs that he had struggled before death. Two metres long stretched out on the slab, lean muscle and dark hair, with skin that he’d prevented from seeing the sun ever since he had formed this plan. After just a few minutes in death, it had gone an ethereal blue-white. He made a magnificent corpse.

The Medic approached slowly. The first time he had tried this, it had been a desperate, furtive act. He hadn’t been able to make it last nearly long enough as he tore into the corpse like a starving man. Now, though, with his initial ardour sated, he was able to savour the experience. He ran a possessive hand down his döppelganger’s thigh, following it with his tongue.

The muscles were relaxed and resilient still; the perfect state, in his opinion. Although corpses became pliable again after rigour, the texture would be pulpy, the flabby beginnings of decay. Now that the Medic had his choice, he preferred only the freshest of corpses- and the most handsome. He patted his own slack cheek.

Now, there were so many possible ways to proceed that the German found it difficult to choose. While deciding, he rubbed his hands up and down the dead limbs. The muscles moved over the bones in a fascinating way; he could visualise every detail of the anatomy. Should he dissect himself? Tempting, but too slow for his present mood. He climbed on top of his dead body and kissed the lolling mouth. It was his to do with as he pleased, after all. He could claim this corpse in any way he saw fit. Yes... he rutted against his body, biting the throat, gnawing and sucking until he raised post-mortem bruising.

“Schön, so schön,” he murmured into the livid marks. The unresisting body beneath him was sufficiently appealing that he could almost be satisfied by rubbing off against it. He did just that, unbuttoning his fly to press his cock against his own stilled stomach. He could bring himself off there, or spend his semen on his own dead face. His erection throbbed at the thought, and he ground against the corpse’s thigh. He considered oral sodomy, but the scrape of teeth in a slack mouth was unpleasant, and he was too impatient to remove them.

No, this would not serve. He would return to an old favourite, conventional sodomy. Sometimes the simple approach was best. He knelt on the gurney between his corpse’s legs and rolled up his sleeves before opening a jar of Vaseline. He slicked his cock while admiring his own sprawled body.

Preparing the corpse for penetration was an unnecessary formality, but he probed in order to enjoy a foretaste of the heat that remained inside. It was irresistible. He hoisted the body’s knees onto his shoulders and plunged in.

The sensation drew a groan that seemed to pull itself up from the soles of his feet. His toes curled inside his boots, his mouth hung open as wide as the corpse’s. Trying to maintain a slow pace, to savour the experience, he raised the dead arm to his mouth and kissed the palm, the inside of the wrist. Shuddering with lust, he bit down. His teeth drew blood, and he smeared it from his face with the back of his hand. He gripped the corpse’s thighs and slammed in harder.

This was exquisitely depraved, but he felt a restless yearning for something more. Something new, something he had not enjoyed with a dozen corpses before. Inspiration struck as he gazed at the ragged wound on the corpse’s wrist. Why let himself be limited by the constraints of anatomy? It wasn’t as if his patient could survive the procedure. Still deep in his corpse, the Medic selected a scalpel and made an incision above the body’s navel. He pulled out reluctantly, and repositioned himself to penetrate the new hole.

Interesting- still gloriously hot, and much more yielding. Perhaps too much so; he made a smaller cut and thrust into that. Oh- much better. He pulled out and thrust in again, enjoying the novel sensation. As his pleasure built, he moved faster, thrust harder. He threw himself prone on the corpse, watching his own head roll back and forth. He stretched up to kiss the blue lips, and the incision tore, gaping too wide to be pleasurable.

Hoisting himself up, the Medic reconsidered his approach. Perhaps he could slit the throat, enjoy his mouth from the inside out. However, the edges of the tracheal cartilage were apt to be unpleasantly sharp... He regarded his body critically, and was struck with delight at the splashes of red upon the pale flesh.

After this pause, an idea occurred to him. He made a small incision under the corpse’s ribcage, and probed the wound with his fingers. It was hot and tight between the membranes protecting the lungs from the ribs, and the contrast of bony ridges above and resilient organ below was promising. He kissed the slack mouth again, biting the lips bloody, before crawling up along the still body to plunder the wound.

As he forced himself in, the Medic knew his hypothesis was correct. It was close enough to the surface to be slightly chilled, a delicious reminder of the depravity he was committing, with the body’s core temperature welling up from within to warm him. He pulled out, gasping at the rhythm of the ribs across the crown of his cock. He cried out as he thrust back in, his face a perfect mirror of his corpse’s open-mouthed expression. He gripped the corpse as he slammed in again and again, raising strange bruises on the pale shoulders.

Clawing into the Vaseline with bloody fingers, he added more lubrication to the hole he’d made. The edges were becoming ragged, but that allowed him to get deeper in under the ribs. There, just there, was the perfect point. He cried out, a harsh, high sound, and wrapped himself around his dead döppelganger. Yanking his corpse’s head by the hair, he bit the pulseless throat. He ground down harder with each stroke, breaking the bruised skin. The pleasure was building; he could feel it welling up inside him from a sick sensation in the pit of his stomach.

In a fit of inspiration, the Medic withdrew from the body’s ribcage and cut a tiny new hole in its belly, at the locus of his own mounting pleasure. He forced himself in, fucking his own dead guts. The heavy slide of the organs around his erection was like nothing he had felt before- it was a moment before he could gather enough breath to scream in ecstasy. He fell on his dead double in a tangle of pale limbs smeared with blood. Resuming his attentions to the corpse’s throat, he tore open the blood vessels to release a lazy wash of scarlet across the gurney.

Drinking in his own blood, the Medic thrust through the viscera and encountered the smooth ridges of the inside of his spine. He lowered his hips and thrust upward, gasping at the sensation of the ripples against his throbbing cock.

His body- his live body- sped up of its own accord, hammering into his dead body. The extremes of pleasure plucked at his nerves like strychnine poisoning, forcing him to arch backward as he chased the sensation. He grasped the sides of the table with the insteps of his boots, using the leverage to thrust deeper. While his body was shaking with the effort of maintaining this taut position, the Medic’s ecstasy was nearly complete. He grappled with the corpse, fingers of one hand digging into the shoulder, the other contorted, clawlike, around the ruined throat. The trachea crumpled in his grip, letting his thumb sink in deep. That final tiny surrender threw the Medic over the edge, and he howled as he filled his own corpse with his semen.

The Medic’s head was still thrown back as he heard the clack of a shotgun being primed, and he barely had time to lower it as the door slammed open. The Sniper stood in the door, kukri drawn, as the Heavy sighted down the shotgun over his shoulder.

“Doktor!” the Heavy cried out, seeing the Medic’s bloody clothes, face, hands.

“We heard screams, wot’s-” the Sniper’s words dried up in his mouth as he took in the tableau of a living man atop his own corpse.

“Spy?” The Heavy’s voice held the desperate hope of denial.

“Of course not,” the Medic grinned, light flashing off his glasses. “Would you care to join me?” Wiping blood from his mouth, he gestured hospitably to his own dead body.