Adam was furious. Whipping out his stolen phone, he saw 4 profiles surrounding him in less than 100 feet proximity. These faggots were practically swarming him while he was busy making gains at the gym to maintain his prime physique.

Adam’s feet, clad in the Nike Flight Falcons he’d swiped from his very first necro experience, pounded heavily on the staircase leading into the lobby of the gym. He’d had enough, and a furious rage was brewing.

What was also brewing was Brewski Friday’s at the gym, and sure enough, sitting behind the counter, was one of the fags Adam had seen on the app. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out; dude was wearing the same outfit as his headless profile picture on Grindr.  It was headless, but not nameless—Derek was the moniker associated with the pic.

The object of Adam’s hate and suppressed lust was happily oblivious to the maelstrom brewing behind him at the head of the staircase. In his late 20s and a bit of a gym rat, Derek spent hours away from his white-collar job at the gym to perfect his own physique. He certainly did not have any qualms doing it on his employer’s dime, being Asian. And his boss tolerated Derek’s absences—and his obnoxious demeanor—largely due to the numbers he could deliver.

Derek worked out with a serious dedication and it showed.  He was showing off his toned arms in a snug fitting grey t-shirt, and his legs managed to just slightly stretch the hems of the black Nike basketball shorts he was wearing. The simplicity of his outfit highlighted the carefully planned toning and mass he’d acquired in his years of working out. On his feet were a pair of white Nike crew socks and black Nike Free RN 2018’s that Derek had been wearing religiously to gym for the past year. He’d dressed with a slight exhibitionist streak—both to work out, and to show off his gains to the desperate housewives and gym faggots trolling the gym.

Adam, on the other hand, had a very different take. Faggot was polluting his gym and needed to be taken out. The irony that he was wearing his trophy Nike Flight Falcons was not lost on him. Glaring at Derek, he decided that the Asian bro would not only serve as his cumdump and cardio for the day to complete his workout, but would provide the opportunity to truly earn his trophy sneakers. He hadn’t snuffed that first Asian boy in that condo, and instead had only enjoyed sloppy seconds from his unmet mentor. There was both rage and a sense of duty to purge the faggot Asian bro to make up for what he he’d been unable to accomplish years ago.

The dude was busily pecking away at his own phone—probably arranging a hookup to go suck some cock, Adam figured—when suddenly he pocketed it and sprang to his feet, picking up a gym bag that had been sitting at his feet.  Swiftly heading towards the exit, he passed Adam at a distance of less than three feet, but was evidently so lost in anticipation of getting dick that he didn’t notice the glowering killer staring at him.

The space was close enough for Adam to get a good look at him.  Sure enough, he recognized the cunt from earlier in the week; the faggot had been eyeing him hard, checking out his thick, muscled legs and admiring his kicks.  Adam had been too into his routine at the time to properly attend to the homo’s gawking, but now he’d make up for the lost opportunity.  He waited for five seconds, then followed Derek out.

Despite the chill outside, neither man had bothered to change out of their gym gear.  Adam figured he’d be in the warmth of his truck in a matter of seconds; he was rather taken by surprise when the Asian homo walked right past the parking lot and headed across the street, still on foot.  Adam followed, his Nikes silently padding on the pavement as he quickened his pace to catch up.

Down three blocks and up a side street they went, Adam experienced enough to linger in the shadows anytime Derek showed signs of slows or pausing to look around.  It didn’t take long to reach their destination, which appeared to be an ancient hotel that had evidently been converted to apartments.  Adam crossed the street and stared intently as Derek entered, noticing that there was no lock and no security at the front entrance.  He also marked exactly which mailbox the fag cunt opened in the long bank of brightly-polished antique brass.

Once the Asian was out of sight, his muscled legs pounding up the opulent marble staircase, Adam darted across the street and noted that the pansy had retrieved his mail from a box marked 237.  An apartment on the second floor, then; made sense why he hadn’t bothered with the elevator.  It didn’t take long for the hate-filled killer to mount the stairs himself.

The old room indicator signs were still in place; rooms 230-251 were to the left, then back.  The doors were glossy mahogany with brass plates; 237 was in the back corner and probably had a great view of a shitty alleyway.  More importantly, though, was that as Adam approached the door, he could see that it had been left open a crack.

Maybe the homo actually was expecting a hookup.  Adam grinned maliciously.  It didn’t matter; he was there first, and he was gonna do what needed to be done to the useless cocksucker.  He paused only for a moment, then silently pushed the door open.

It was obvious from the first glance that the apartment had once been a two-room suite.  A small kitchen area had been carved out of a corner of the front room while the bath was in the rear room.  A high, decorative archway between the two rooms that had likely been originally closed by a curtain was now partially filled in, with a rather small and inadequate door set in its center, but otherwise the conversion had been tastefully and rather expensively done.  The Asian fag wasn’t living cheap.

Adam’s grin widened.  He wasn’t living long, either.

The living room, with its modern leather furniture and oversized TV, was empty, but the door to bedroom was open and the psychotic necro killer felt his dick stiffen as he heard the sounds of his victim moving about.  Goddam chink homo needed to die so Adam could release the sperm building in his huge hairy sac.  And the fag deserved it in the worst way.  It needed to suffer.  The thought of putting the pervert in pain so excited Adam that he had to place his hand against the wall to steady and compose himself.

This was another rebirth for him, and the most important one yet.  With this one, he was going to establish his true identity as avenger of morality, expunging all cumsucking homo cunts.  They needed to die to earn real mancock; no one would mourn their useless wasted queer-ass existences.  He was purifying the planet, and he needed to do it right—he couldn’t allow his own excitement to ruin the perfection he was bringing unto the world.

He slowly pushed the bedroom door open and peered in.

There was a queen-sized bed with an elaborate antique headboard on the left side of the room; on the right was home gym setup that consisted mostly of a weight bench, with a few other devices.  The corner in which it was located was lined with mirrors.  To the extreme right was the bathroom; Adam could hear the shower running.

Derek wasn’t in the shower, though; at least, not yet.  He was getting ready; in fact, he’d stripped nude but for his own Nikes.  He was in front of his dresser, pulling out clothes—obviously trying to find the perfect slutty outfit to get his homo ass reamed before he jumped into the tub to wash off the gym sweat.  There was a mirror on the dresser, as well—Adam didn’t have to move too far into the room before Derek, momentarily glancing up, spotted him.

“Hey, you’re early,” the Asian homo said cheerfully, but then his eyes narrowed and his smile faltered.  “Wait, you’re not the guy on the app—‘least, you ain’t the guy in the photo.”

“No, I’m Adam.  And you’re fuckmeat, you goddam faggot.”

Derek’s face flushed red.  “Who you think you are, bro, comin’ into my place and throwin’ shade?”

“I think I’m the guy who’s gonna teach you yer proper place on this planet, cocksucker—rottin’ like garbage after I waste yer perverted ass and fill you with righteous manseed.  By the time yer pansy little hookup gets here, ain’t gonna be nothin’ left of you but well-used fagmeat, gettin’ stiff and cold.”

The words were like a slap in the face to Derek; he had one brief moment of clarity.  “You’re that fucker from the gym…”

“Yeah, asswipe, and I’m sick of yer faggot eyeballs crawlin’ all over me every time I work out.  You want me, dude?  Fuck, only way yer gonna get the dick of a real man like me is to die for it.  Guess it’s gonna be yer lucky night, then, motherfucker, cause I’m gonna dick you down just like yer little homo ass has been beggin’ for!”

The Asian faggot automatically dropped himself into a fighting stance, his smooth, muscled body crouched low.  His dark hair glinted almost blue-black in the dim light as his thick, uncut cock swung like a pendulum between his thick, firm legs.  Almost unconsciously, he found himself grinning at the intruder, as if anxious to prove his worth against the slurs of the intruder.

Adam smirked as the dude planted his red Nikes at shoulder-width on the floor; he hoped the worthless chink pansy would try to fight him.  Motherfucker needed to be taught a lesson; the thought of doing so already had the psycho sex killer hard as a brick.

“Think you can take me, ya fuckin’ gook?” he sneered.  “Come at me, bro.  Lessee what kinda damage a useless pansy like you can do to real man.”

Derek lunged.  Adam was expecting it; he neatly side-stepped the young man’s rush and took a swing, his right fist connecting with Derek’s jaw with a loud smack.

Stunned, the buff Asian stagged sideways, clutching at his face.  He turned and stared at Adam, the cockiness and arrogance in his expression tamped down by the blow he’d received.

“You sick, racist asshole!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Adam laughed broadly.  “I’m sick?  You’re the fucking pervert who wants my cock, queerboy.  Well, guess what, faggot, I’ll give it to ya—but ya gotta earn it.  Wanna know how to do that?”

Derek looked at him in trepidation as Adam balled his fists, deranged rage coming off him in almost visible waves.  “You gotta die for it, ya sack of homo shit.  You get it now?  I ain’t no fag; I don’t fuck men—but I ain’t got no problem reaming out the hole of a quiverin’ piece of meat.  Don’t worry, boy, I’ll fuck ya just as hard as yer sick little pansy heart wants—but you ain’t gonna be around to enjoy it.  Too many fuckin’ pervs like you on this planet as it is.”

Derek’s innate self-assurance refused to acknowledge the twinge of fear he felt—but it was nothing more than a twinge, after all.  He’d ogled Adam often enough at the gym to know the sex killer’s physique, but he didn’t really believe that he was gonna die tonight.  He might not be as quite a big or as muscular as his assailant, but he was wiry and strong, and had no doubt he could hold his own.

That was when Adam waded in, both fists flying.

Derek had done some sparring at the gym, but he’d never been up against someone so filled with hatred and a desire to kill.  He blocked the madman’s punches as best he could, and even managed to land a few of his own, but they did nothing to stop the vicious flurry of pounding.  Adam’s hard, firm body absorbed the blows with as little damage as if Derek had been slugging a marble statue.

On the other hand, Derek’s own body, toned as it was, was beginning to suffer under the repeated impacts.  Adam’s powerful fists landed with the force of wrecking balls on the Asian’s flat belly and bulked-out pecs, tenderizing the young fuck’s torso like the meat Adam considered it to be. 

For the first time in his privileged life, the Asian stud began to feel fear.  He’d always had an almost inbred sense of his own superiority, his own ability to overcome any situation.  He’d compensated for a feeling of physical inferiority by a grueling and punishing regime at the gym until he’d finally approached the bodily ideal he’d dreamed of, a body that would have white dudes drooling with lust for his ass.

Now, it was clear that it hadn’t been enough.  So far, Adam hadn’t targeted his face, but his torso was bruised and ached as badly as if he’d been in a car wreck; some random corner of his mind wondered if any of his ribs had been fractured—it kinda felt like it.  It was hard to breathe; every attempt to inhale was accompanied by a tortuous pain in his smooth flanks.

Derek’s defense was flagging.  Even worse—he could tell Adam had noticed.

“Ain’t gonna last much longer, are ya?” the psycho serial killer sneered.  “Fucking cocky-ass gooks like you just can’t hold up against a real man.  Keep fightin’ it, ya stupid cunt; every time I punch yer worthless fag ass, my cock oozes a little more.  Fuck, wastin’ yer sick chink ass is gonna be so goddam hot I might actually blow a load before you die.”

He paused and grinned malevolently.  “Naw, you don’t deserve that, asswipe.  But fuck, it’s gonna be close, cunt.”

He plowed in again.  In the next few minutes, Derek learned the true meaning of the word Hell.  Despite his best efforts, he found it impossible to fend off the more powerful alpha’s brutal attack.  Blow after blow rained onto his unprotected face, blackening his eyes and crushing his nose with a loud crunch.  The muscled Asian youth sank to the floor, moaning in pain, but still refusing to admit defeat.

Adam knew it, and was determined to change it.  He grabbed a hank of the punk’s dark hair and dragged him back to his feet.  “Smile for me, bitch,” he sneered, “Gimme somethin’ to aim at.”

Dazed and swaying, Derek could only gulp and stare blankly at the hate-filled face looking into his.  That driving will, that arrogance that had kept him going had somehow suddenly evaporated.  Even though he knew the takedown punch was coming, he didn’t duck—he didn’t even flinch.

The impact, square on the jaw, had enough force to send him backwards into the dresser.  His head snapped back, shattering the mirror, but he was too busy trying to hack up the teeth that had been knocked down his throat and lodged into his trachea.  Falling again to his knees, his spit them up in a drool of blood.

He kept his eyes fixed on the carpet.  His swollen face and bruised body were causing his great pain, but the realization that he’d lost—that a bigger and stronger man had just beaten the fuck outta him—was more than he could bear.  By an almost deliberate effort of will, he powered his brain down, refusing to contemplate what was happening to him, or what the defeat would truly mean.

He wasn’t able to avoid reality for long.  Adam’s black Night Falcons soon appeared in his field of view.  Derek still couldn’t comprehend that the sight signaled the beginning of his end, but he knew that what was coming would be bad.

He didn’t understand what was happening, or why.  He’d hooked up with someone online, but that conversation couldn’t have been with this psycho—not that he hadn’t been attracted to this hot stud.  He’d only wanted to give him pleasure.  It was utterly beyond his mindset to realize that only his slow, painful death could stimulate the sick fucker to orgasm.  Derek’s mind simply didn’t run along such lines.

And soon, it wasn’t going to run along any lines at all.

Adam bent down and wrapped his powerful hands around the Asian’s throat.  With a frightening display of brute force, he straightened up and deadlifted Derek off the ground.

Adam was only about five inches taller than Derek, but it was enough that when he held the suffering faggot out at arm’s length, the latter’s whore-red Nikes kicked uselessly in the air, seeking some non-existent purchase with which to support his dangling body.  The pain of his aching, damaged body receded into the background the moment his airflow ceased, and sheer panic set in.

Derek had been used to utter control over his life.  Up until now, nothing had happened that he hadn’t felt was out of his ability to master.  The beating had been bad enough, but this—this was exponentially worse.  He’d even lost control of his ability to inhale.

Adam grinned in Derek’s swollen, blackening face, savoring the terror.  “Fuck ya, you worthless chink cunt, now yer getting’ it huh?  You want my load, dontcha, faggot?  This is how yer gonna get it.  But it’s gonna be nice and slow—the more you suffer, the harder my cock gets, ya homo bitch!”

Derek heard the words, but they made no impression—his terror was already at maximum pitch.  His fingers scrambled, clawing frenetically at Adam’s brutal grip and at his own compressed throat, to no avail.  He could feel his tongue swelling, as if it was literally being squeezed out of his esophagus.  And then Adam whispered, deeply and seductively, in a way that manager to get through to him.

“Whaddaya say, fag, wanna take this to the bed?  It’s what you been wantin’, ain’t it?  Come on, you perverted gook, I wanna hold ya tight as you kick and die.  Yer pain and fear is so fucking hot, asswipe.  I wanna enjoy it.  I wanna feel you fucking suffer and die, bitch.  C’mon, motherfucker, let’s hit the sack!”

Enduring yet more degrading proof of his utter loss of power, Derek felt himself being carried involuntarily to his own bed to die.  Suddenly there was a violent sensation of motion, but it was accompanied by a blissful cessation of the crushing pain around his throat.  He had just a split second to inhale before he struck the bed hard enough to bounce; the realization that Adam had flung him down flashed through his head and gave him an idea.

He had a moment—a brief one, a second or two at most, when escape was possible.  Now that he was no longer in the lunatic’s power, his self-confidence came flooding back in a rush.  If he could just regain his feet, he’d show this motherfucker a thing or two…

But then Adam was in bed along with him, a dream swiftly taking on the aspects of a nightmare.  The powerful man’s scent, mansweat and testosterone, filled his nostrils and Derek realized with horror that his own cock was becoming stiff in spite of himself.  He thrashed, trying to climb off the mattress, but then Adam’s fists plowed into him in a flurry of blows.

Derek was young and strong; his buff, toned body was capable of withstanding a massive amount of punishment.  But Adam’s punches impacted his flat, firm belly like a runaway train—and after the first two or three pounded into him, Derek found his air forcibly expelled from his lungs. 

It wasn’t as if the Asian gym rat was incapable of defending himself; it was just that his own blows seemed to damage his assailant as much as they would a cinderblock wall.  Nothing he did seemed to have any effect.  And before he could formulate any coherent plan of escape, Adam had stopped hitting him—and started strangling him again.

Derek clutched Adam’s arms as tightly as Adam had gripped his throat; in a heartbeat, the vicious struggle on the bed had quieted into two men holding each other and staring into each other’s eyes.  It could have been a moment of pure love—but it was the beginning of the end of the life of one of them, solely for the other’s sexual gratification.

Derek’s panic came back in a rush; finding his attempt to shift Adam’s strong hands utterly futile, he began clawing out in sheer panic.  As Adam smirked, the Asian faggot tore his t-shirt to shreds, opening the front to expose the serial killer’s furry, muscular torso.  As the thin cotton fabric dissolved under Derek’s scrambling fingers, he dug into the wiry copper-tinted hair that covered the killer’s chest.

Adam pulled Derek closer to him.  “Yer dying, ya chink asshole.  How’s it feel? Ya likin’ it?  Fuck, ya just gotta be lovin’ this, you sick-ass faggot pervert—yer little gook’s dick is so hard it’s pokin’ me.  Shit, ya worthless little cunt, you ain’t felt nothin’ yet!”

He leered into the suffering Asian’s face and squeezed harder, feeling the homo’s trachea starting to collapse under the sheer force of his own hands.  This was what he loved, what he lived for.  His own massive hog was so erect it was starting to ache.  The cocksucker was in obvious agony; his almond eyes bulging from their orbits—fuck, Adam could see hemorrhages popping in the chink’s eyes like mini-fireworks as the pressure inside the faggot’s head spiked.

Derek still refused to acknowledge his imminent death; utterly unable to cede control, even at the very end, he could only thrash in helpless agony.  His leges flailed violently enough for him to dislodge one of his Nikes—it flew backwards off the bed, leaving his foot free in its ankle sock, toes curling as his struggles slowly began to subside.

It was so incremental, Derek didn’t know it was happening—but he was swiftly reaching the point of not being able to realize anything at all.  His dark eyes, as Adam had noted, were already so swollen beyond their natural limit that, despite bulging past the point of allowing the lids to close, Derek could no longer see.  His hearing was fucked up, too; the frenetic beating of his desperate heart banging and echoing inside his skull.

But he could damn sure feel.  If it had been in his nature to wish for death, he would be doing so now.  His tongue seemed to fill his mouth and he could feel his own slimy drool leaking own his cheek, but that was nothing next to the pain.  The pain was everything.

The pain was in his head and his chest, his throat and deep in his lungs.  The last were on fire, burning with an incandescent heat he didn’t know was possible inside the human body, and the first, his head, seemed to be on the verge of rupturing, popping like an over-filled balloon—but that wasn’t the worst.  The worst was his cock.

It was alive with a will of its own, aching and burning as he slowly died under the serial killer’s hands.  Even as his brain began to sputter and misfire, the buff Asian could feel his uncut member pulsing and throbbing.  And along with the awareness of his own raging erection, Derek could still sense the closeness of the powerful stud whose body he had craved.  The hard, hairy body, so near to him…he knew he wanted it…something was wrong, though, but he couldn’t remember what…but that firm, sexy body was so near, in his bed with him…

Adam knew the cunt was almost gone, but he was experienced enough in mankilling by now to know that if he pitched his voice just right, he could get through to the fag before it became fuckmeat.  He bent his head towards the dying Asian, brushing Derek’s swollen, purple cheek with his own as he hissed in gym rat’s ear.

“Almost there, homo,” he muttered in a deep basso that penetrated the deathfog clouding Derek’s mind, as he knew it would.  “Ready to die, pansy?  Ready to earn my mandick?  Fuck yeah, cunt, here ya go.  Just a little more suffering—goddam, it’s gonna hurt like all fuck, you asswipe, but it’ll all be over and you finally get what yer sick little faggot soul has always wanted—my shaft up yer perverted queerboy asshole!”

Derek heard.  The last screaming fragment of his cocksucker’s soul heard the words, and refused to understand them—but his lithe young body understood.  As Adam’s inexorable grip tightened excruciatingly, compressing his trachea beyond its ability to recover, the buff Asian’s uncut rod began to spew semen uncontrollably.

“GAH!” Adam cried.  “You fucking disgusting faggot pervert!”  Baring his teeth in outraged fury, he crushed the punk’s esophagus like an empty beer can, his own shaft drooling precum as he felt it crumple under his hands.  Derek convulsed violently, his smooth, firm body pressing against that of his killer as he continued to blow his deathwad, smearing his load over Adam’s torso and matting the psycho’s body hair with the seed.

Long after Derek had drained his balls and died—not necessarily in that order—Adam finally let his enraged grip go.  The Asian meat was still shuddering, its face livid and its tongue lolling out of hits mouth.  “Finally,” Adam whispered to it, stroking the smooth quivering chest, “Finally, you’ve earned it, asswipe.  Time to take my cock, ya worthless gook motherfucker.”

Unceremoniously rolling the dead man onto the floor with a dull thump, Adam got off the bed and shrugged off the shredded remains on his t-shirt.  It was an easy matter to slip his gym shorts down and step out of them, leaving the powerful killer sporting nothing but his Nike Night Falcons and a raging erection.

And that was when he heard the door open behind him.

Whirling, he found himself confronting as huge man, even taller and more powerful than himself.  The dude was wearing a leather biker jacket, open, with no shirt underneath, revealing a broad, incredibly muscular chest and belly, covered with dark wiry fur.  Beneath that was a pair of worn jeans so tight that his frighteningly massive hog was clearly defined in the crotch; the jeans were tucked into a pair of loosely laced, untied Carolina loggers.

Adam was taken aback.  He stared at the apparition, his jaw agape.  “Who-who the fuck are you?” he asked blankly.

The newcomer gazed at him, then calmly turned his eyes to Derek’s shuddering corpse on the floor.  A slow grin crept across his hard, handsome face—a grin that made Adam’s blood run cold, something he’d never experienced before.  But then the man spoke and it only got worse.

“I’m Joe,” he said, “and it looks like you owe me some fuckmeat.  Bend over, fucker—I ain’t going home still someone dies on my dick, boy.”

–TO BE CONTINUED