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redditnosleep · 6 years

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P is for Prey

by kmcooney

Pretty prey, pretty pretty little prey

Welcome to How to Pick Your Prey: The Step By Step Instruction manual where you have the honor of learning from the master on how to, well, you read the title! But before we get into the nitty-gritty, let me introduce myself.

My name is Kate and I guess you could say that I have a peculiar hobby. You guessed it, baby! I absolutely adore killing people. Oh I crave the blood that seeps out of their veins, the air that escapes their lungs and that oh so charming way they beg for their lives (as if that has ever worked before). Especially with Darren, he sure loved to beg for help! Of course, he was my first “kill” but I guess I can’t really take too much credit for him considering he already had a knife sticking out of his chest by the time I met him.

I was a sixth grader just minding my own business when I stumbled upon Darren’s embarrassing pleas for help. He was SO loud and just SO pitiful. His squawking ruined an otherwise peaceful walk through the woods. As soon as he saw my little frame slide into view, I swear he shit himself from excitement.

“Please, please help me. I’ve been stabbed. My name is Darren…” he gurgled, struggling to get up.

He was making quite a mess. Blood everywhere, intestines poking out. Whoever stabbed him really did a number on him.

“Please go get help. Call your parents, the police, anyone. Please.”

But I didn’t call anyone. No sir. I just smiled and cocked my head to the side. His blood was darker than I thought it would be. It looked like oil—I wondered if it felt like it too…

“I need help…” the man said slowly. He must think I’m dumb. I’m not dumb.

My sneakers crunched over the fallen leaves, slick with blood. I was closer now; I could hear his lungs struggling for air. The stabber must have punctured a lung. Smart man. But he obviously didn’t do a good enough job.

I knelt before Darren and smiled. “Let me help,” I whispered.

Relief flooded his face right before the blood did. The knife was lighter than I had imagined, so easy to remove from the chest. And his neck, well his neck was thinner than paper—so easy to slice a neat line across. But I didn’t stay to feel the blood, no matter how much I wanted to. It would have gotten all over my jeans. And that would have made quite the mess.

It’s a shame Darren never got to see what I did to him. But you can see! Oh yes, you can see ;)

Step One: So you’ve decided to kill someone, that’s great! Trust me, it’s an awesome feeling. First things first, every hunter needs their territory, right? So find your territory, Simba.

Bars work the best. The dim lighting and the abundance of social lubricant usually make people trust strangers quicker than they normally would if, let’s say, you were at a park or somewhere normal humans go. The bar you pick should be seedy but not TOO seedy. Something right in the middle. A place that doesn’t have cameras, obviously.

Step Two: Never, ever, ever, ever, EVER pick the same bar twice. It doesn’t matter if you like the $2 draft special they have or if the chicken wings are simply to die for, you NEVER go to the same bar twice to pick your prey.

You may be recognized. You do not want to be recognized.

Step Three: Even though you don’t want to be recognized, you do want to look good. Put on a tight skirt, do your hair and paint your lips red. Look pretty, very pretty. Oh, and don’t forget to put the girls on display, they will be needed later.

Step Four: Ok, so you’re at the bar, you look hot as hell, now what? Well now it’s time to pick your prey! Set yourself up by a table by the back of the bar, somewhere where you can sit and wait. Grab yourself a drink (just one) and try to appear natural.

While you’re waiting, don’t read a book like a dumbass. Boys don’t like smart girls. They like to have the upper hand; they don’t like to be intimidated. So play on your phone like a good little girl. Personally, I enjoy reading this subreddit while I wait.

Step Five: Pretty prey, pretty pretty little prey. Who should you choose? Not the man surrounded by a group of friends, that’s for sure. You don’t want anyone to wonder where he has gone off to….or who he has gone off with.

How about one of the three men at the bar? Yes, yes they look all alone now don’t they? One of them will be perfect for you.

Pretty prey, pretty pretty little prey. Who should you choose? Not the fat, ugly one, that’s obvious. He would be easy, there is no doubt about that. He would simply adore the attention you give him, fawning over your every word and greedily eyeing your breasts with hunger. When you suggest taking him back to your place, he will eagerly follow like a little lap puppy. But he will be a bad lay. And he would be far too heavy to drag down the stairs later.

Pretty prey, pretty pretty little prey. Who should you choose? Not the handsome one, darling. It’s obvious you want the handsome one. And why wouldn’t you? He could make any girl’s panties drop to the floor with a simple wink, a caress of the arm. He would be a great fuck too; you wouldn’t even have to fake the grin spread across your face, the wetness between your thighs, the hungry moan escaping your lips. But you can’t have him, no matter how much you want him. His pretty little face would be splashed across the news the next day. Humans always mourn the attractive ones, always notice when they are missing. So you can’t have the handsome one. No, you can’t.

Pretty prey, pretty pretty little prey. Who should you choose? Ah, the one just right! Not too handsome, but not entirely unattractive either—right in the middle. He will appreciate your attention but he won’t embarrass himself fawning over you. He will have a typical office job (they always do), a typical life, a typical house, a typical dick.

He won’t be missed.

Step Six: Stalk your pretty little prey. Watch what he drinks, when he drinks, how he moves his hands. Watch him for 20 minutes—no longer, no less.

Step Seven: Looks like you finished your drink! It’s time to get a new one, yes? Head to the bar and squeeze in next to him, touching his shoulder lightly. He will notice you (they always do).

Step Eight: Grab the bartender’s attention but ignore your prey. Ask for a beer, a cheap one. Then lean back slightly, giving your prey the perfect chance to check you out. If he’s not already checking you out by now, adjust your bra strap. That usually gets the guys going.

Step Nine: Grab your beer and fumble for your wallet, making a big show about how you can’t seem to find the $2 you need for your beer. Look sheepish, embarrassed, like a damsel in distress. Your prey will notice, of course he will notice. And he will wave the bartender down and tell him that he’s got you covered like the little hero he is. Because, of course, he wants to talk to you. They always want to talk to you.

Step Ten: You oblige for one hour.

Step Eleven: Don’t shit where you eat! Meaning: don’t kill your prey at the bar. That would be downright silly (and messy). Also, don’t actually shit where you eat. That’s just disgusting. Where did that term even come from? People are sick.

Tell your prey that you should be leaving soon, that you have SUCH a busy day tomorrow but he’s really made your night enjoyable. Your prey will look disappointed; he thought he would be getting lucky tonight. That’s when you smile and ask him if he would like to head back to your place for a little nightcap. His face will light up, his dick will grow hard. You’ll leave hand in hand.

Step Twelve: Take him to your “apartment.” Though it’s not really your apartment, of course. It’s really your landlord’s apartment. But it’s ok, she won’t find out. Her body is buried in the backyard under those petunias she always loved so much.

Pretty prey, pretty pretty little prey. It’s almost time!

Step Thirteen: Lock the door behind you both and offer him a drink. He will say yes. Leave him in the living room while you fix two drinks. One will have a hefty dose of roofies (among other things). Don’t drink that one.

Step Fourteen: Make sure he has finished all of his drink, down to the last drop.

Step Fifteen: Seduce.

Step Sixteen: Undress.

Step Seventeen: Fuck him.

Step Eighteen: He will finish before the roofies kick in, if you’ve timed it right. He will try to get up now, try to leave. But you don’t let him. You will push him back on the bed. He will feel dizzy, he will feel guarded. He will be confused.

Pretty prey, pretty pretty little prey.

Step Nineteen: Enlighten the poor dumb bastard. Tell him that you are going to kill him. Watch as his laughter fades to fear when he realizes you are serious. Watch as he dimly struggles against the haze taking over. It’s pointless to struggle, it’s pointless to beg.

“Why are you doing this to me…” he whispers.

Don’t answer. You don’t owe him anything.

Step Twenty: Straddle your pretty prey and reach for the knife under your pillow. You prefer a long blade, something sharp. But you don’t want it to end it quickly. No, you like to take your time. You love the feeling of digging that blade into his flesh, hearing him moan in an entirely different way than you heard him moan before. Pleasure and pain, pleasure and pain. You love watching him struggle to move, to breathe. Skin is so easy to tear apart, especially the belly. Slice him like a fish, unravel his intestines, keep him alive long enough to wish he wasn’t.

Pretty prey, pretty pretty prey. Time to die.

Step Twenty-One: Oh my, what a mess! Your prey is a bloody puddle on your sheets. How rude. How messy. It’s time to clean.

Strip the bed, snatch your clothes, grab him (well, what’s left of him). Throw the clothes and the sheets into trash bag (good thing you have a spare change of clothes!) Wipe him down and wrap him in plastic, careful to tie up the loose ends. You don’t want any blood to get out! Wash your floors and dust anything that he touched. Take a shower, a long one. You earned it!

Step Twenty-Two: Time to dispose of the body! This is the fun part. Take your prey down to the basement. A tub of acid works well on pesky bodies. You can find anything on Amazon.

Step Twenty-Three: After an exhilarating night, don’t you think you deserve a little fresh air? Grab the trash bag full of the bloody clothes and sheets and head out. Oh, and don’t forget his phone. You’ll need that too.

Step Twenty-Four: Take the bag and the phone to your coworker’s house. Yes, the coworker who is just SO annoying. They never seem to shut up, do they? That’s why they make a great safety net—someone to blame. Bury the bag of bloody clothes deep in their backyard. Still on their property, of course, but far enough away so they won’t notice. Paul is never one to notice the obvious.

Step Twenty-Five: Remember that cell phone? Good girl! Take it out and go through your prey’s latest messages. Usually, there is at least one friend he has been texting unless he is some sort of loser. But you don’t choose losers, do you?

Shoot off a text that looks something like this: “Met this guy named Paul O’Connor at the bar. Dude said he had this sick TV for sale! Hoping to buy it off of him tonight. I’ll send pics!”

If the police ever find the phone, Paul looks mighty guilty. Serves him right for calling you “sweetie” at the company meeting.

Clean the phone. Turn it off. Throw it in the woods. Give Paul’s window the middle finger. Leave.

Step Twenty-Six: Pick your next prey ;)

#creepy #horror story #author: kmcooney #mod note: failed step one #alphabet stew series

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