Feature Writer: MattblackUK

Feature Title: Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Published: 20.03.2019

Story Codes: Erotic Horror

Synopsis: Danny had killed 10 times. On reflection was that bad?

Author’s Notes: I’d like to thank Randi and Literotica for this opportunity to write something outside my normal oeuvre. I thanks Randi for her skilful editing. However, any subsequent errors are mine and I demand the right to claim any such errors as my own! And The Hammersmith Nude Murders aka Jack the Stripper was a real case. The murder weapon was as described in this story. The case was never solved.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Danny Flavian was going to die, and it was all his own fault. Not that he actually accepted this fact, but just because someone doesn’t accept something doesn’t mean that it isn’t so.

Danny Flavian was 36. He was from a very wealthy family, he had attended private schools and had attended one of the country’s top Ivy League universities. His entry had been eased, in part, by financial donations from his father.

Many people had heard of his father, Antares Flavian. He had gained much notoriety and fame by becoming America’s first Atheistic televangelist.

He had his studio set out in mockery of the standard televisual churches, he had a large mixed-sex choir who would sing nonsense word songs in mockery of Gospel choirs and he would preach what he described as “fatuity, gibberish and gobbledygook” under the title of his show: “Atheism Now, Today.”

He had hilariously funny parodies of fund-raising drives, often featuring some hot-shot atheists whom he had managed to convince to appear on his show.

Although they were intended, on the face of it, to be raillery and to act as a mockery against the fund raising drives employed by many genuine televangelists, Flavian’s fundraising drives actually did generate a large and substantial income for him. He made multiple Millions of Dollars a year, with more income coming in from the sale of DVDs, books, t-shirts, etc.

In fact, to some atheists “Flavian” became a hiss-word, as they felt he should not have been making money on his fellow atheists in that way. One atheist even went so far as to say in an interview: “At least with a genuine televangelist, the guy gives his marks, his dupes if you will, a sense of something better for them in the future, an afterlife. All Flavian does is sell them the sizzle, but doesn’t give them even a lick of the damn sausage!”

After Danny left university with a degree in business management, he went to work as an administration assistant for his father’s company. One day when he was sat wasting time he realized that the name of his father’s holding company, Ice Sweatshirts was an anagram of “I screw atheists.”

He grew to realize that his father was probably even worse than many of the televangelists he was guying, as some of them believed what they were preaching. His father really was only in it for the money, and was treating his fellow atheists as a flock of fools to be fleeced.

Danny’s discovery made his attitude toward life and humanity take a hit at that point, but that still didn’t stop Danny from enjoying the fruits of what he began to see as his father’s ill-gotten gains. His mother seemed to float above it all in a fog of pink gin.

Danny was also an atheist, but there was a dangerous difference between Danny and his father. Whilst Antares Flavian had no religious belief, Danny Flavian believed in nothing.

In short, he was a moral nihilist. He believed that nothing is ever right or wrong, that nothing could be morally right or wrong. He did believe in one overriding credo, that the only “wrong” thing was if one were to get caught.

The first time it happened, it was an accident, but each time thereafter it was a deliberate and coldblooded act.

He was in a large city in Mid-West America, scoping out some potential venues for a speaking tour for his father, when he felt the need for some female companionship. He used a shady hook-up site which was only one step removed from the so-called Dark Web. Shit, maybe it was actually a part of the Dark Web?

He decided that he wanted the woman he hired to perform fellatio on him, they agreed a price and he told her to meet him in his apartment hotel that wasn’t far from the river that flowed through the city.

Although it was something that he had never given a great deal of thought to, Danny’s penis was longer than average, but, the key point to remember was that it was exceptionally wide, also.

Thirty minutes after she arrived, Danny was enjoying giving her mouth a good fucking as he came down her throat. Half an hour after that, he was disposing of her corpse in the fast flowing river at the rear of the apartment building.

It was crazy, one moment she was alive, the next moment she was dead, choked to death on his incredibly thick penis.

Danny had once wondered what it would be like to kill someone; now he knew.

To his surprise, he had enjoyed the experience very much indeed.

It had been an accident, that first time, but as he watched her corpse disappear from view in the turbulent waters of the river, he came to realize that the sexual release he had felt had only been a fairly minor component of the powerful visceral emotions that he had felt as he realized that he had inadvertently killed the young (well, youngish, to be honest) prostitute, choking her on his own penis.

He had taken her life and he had realized that it had been the most thrilling event in his entire life, to that point.

He also realized that he would do it again. Correction! He realized that he would have to do it again, that he must do it again.

After the tenth such murder, police forces across the USA began to realize that they had a serial sex killer on their hands, and the FBI’s top forensic psychologist was called in to offer his expertise.

He addressed the representatives of over a dozen different law enforcement agencies that covered the areas where corpses had been found.

“Folks, this reminds me of a classic case from the annals of sexual crime murders. Back in Britain in the late 1950s and into the mid-1960s, a murderer stalked prostitutes in parts of London.

“The case was known to police officers in the Met as The Hammersmith Nude Murders and to the British press as Jack the Stripper, from his habit of leaving his victim’s bodies naked.

“They had several suspects, but they were never able to pin it on any one particular culprit. Due to the main culprit being found dead.

“However, having given the matter some thought I have concluded that if similar murders took place in modern Britain, or in the United States, police officers would be able to identify and capture the killer due to major advances in the forensic sciences, in particular, in the field of DNA analysis.

“We know that each of the ten victims we have identified so far were killed by the same man. The reason I say “the ten victims we have identified so far’ is because it’s not impossible that our killer may have murdered any number of other victims. We just don’t know at this time.

Fortunately, our killer is either very stupid or extremely arrogant as he made no effort to hide his DNA.

“Thankfully, as a result, we are very close to identifying our suspect.

“This is in confidence, obviously, but a year or so back there was a TV series where minor celebrities gave a sample of their DNA to see with whom it matched. There were some crazy results.

“However, the DNA database they created was published nationally so that people could pay to have their DNA tested and matched with the celebrities.

“We obtained the DNA of our suspect and we got a very close match to a parental relationship. The celebrity who it matched to was Antares Flavian, the TV atheist.

Mr Antares Flavian has only one child, a male called Daniel Flavian. At present Daniel Flavian is in San Francisco and we have made arrangements for the police there to arrest him.”

The SFPD swiftly arrested Danny and he was extradited to the town where he first killed.

This might have proved a little problematic because his defense was that he had only accidentally killed her, but this defense was damaged by the fact that he had not bothered to call 911 to request medical assistance for his victim and he had disposed of her corpse by tossing it into the river.

He further damaged his defense by firing the attorney his father had paid for and mounting his own defense which was basically that nihilism was where it was at, baby, that normal morality sucked and was for other, ordinary people and not himself, as he saw himself as an Übermensch.

The jury, made up of five men and seven women, took just 30 minutes to find him guilty of first-degree murder, and he suddenly found himself facing the death-penalty, with a lethal injection his likely fate.

His mother coped by drinking more and more gin and Antares Flavian was devastated by what Danny had become, what he had done. He was so devastated and distraught that he decided to invite a leading evangelist, Doctor Roger Berwyn, onto his live programme to discuss what had happened to his son.

Doctor Berwyn was not a fire and brimstone preacher, he was firmly of the belief that souls were more likely to be brought to Jesus with honey, rather than vinegar.

So it was that he pointed out with genuine humility, love and concern, exactly where Antares Flavian had gone wrong with the upbringing he had given his son.

Much to the delighted shock and surprise of Doctor Berwyn and the horror and outage of millions of viewers of the “Atheism Now, Today” show, Antares began sobbing, fell onto his knees in front of Doctor Berwyn and denounced his former atheism and pledged his life to Jesus, receiving a laying on of hands blessing on the set from Dr Berwyn.

Antares eventually toured round the world with Dr Berwyn, explaining his life story and how he had found Jesus after his life as an atheist.

Meanwhile, Danny was in a cell on death row, awaiting the state’s decision as to when he would be executed. He appealed, of course. Well, what condemned killer wouldn’t?

Eventually, his appeals were exhausted and Danny Flavian was sat on his bed contemplating his fate. He felt sorry, but only for himself. He had no feelings of compassion for the ten girls and women he had murdered, or for their families.

Danny was, in that respect, a typical narcissist, with psychotic tendencies.

“Good day, Danny.” The voice, well-modulated and reasonably attractive, startled Danny as he was alone in his cell.

His head snapped round to the source of the voice and he was astonished to see a rather dapper man wearing a bow-tie, a white shirt, a pair of smart slacks and the type of vest worn by card dealers in old movies.

“Who the hell are you?” asked Danny. “How did you get in my cell?”

The man smiled and said, “I’m Lucifer, Danny. And I can get into pretty much anywhere I want to, really.”

“But you can’t be! You don’t exist!”

“Oh, Danny, how can you say such a thing? Do you doubt your own eyes? Your own ears? Your own senses? I’m just as real as you are, Danny.”

“What, or rather, who are you?”

“I’m glad you asked me that question, Danny. I’m the god of this world. You ever read the Bible?”

Danny shook his head. “Not really. No.”

The devil smiled. “Oh, that’s a pity. You’d have read about my interactions with Jesus in the Bible. Sad you never read it, but well, with your upbringing, it’s not to be wondered at.”

Danny picked up on something his new companion had said. “Wait a minute! You are the God of this world?”

The Devil nodded.

“Can you help me? I am scheduled for a lethal injection tomorrow morning. Can you stop that from happening, please?”

The devil shrugged. “Not quite, not entirely, but there is something that I can do for you. I understand that in this prison’s death row, there is a long mirrored window, and behind that window is a room from which the witnesses observe the execution?”

Danny nodded.

“Well, in that case, there is something that I can do for you. How would you like me to transfer your soul to one of the witnesses? That way they’ll take your place during the execution and you can take their place, instead. How’d you like that idea?”

Danny began sobbing and laughing at the same time. Eventually, he was able to thank his companion for his offer of help and he gave his acceptance.

The devil smiled a secretive smile, for as he had hoped, Danny did not ask a certain question, the importance of which would become most apparent to Danny as he laid bound to the execution cot on that next morrow.

He nodded to Danny and disappeared until the next morning, when he manifested himself at Danny’s side in the execution room.

Neither of his parents had attended as witnesses (Danny hadn’t wished that on them, the nearest thing Danny had felt to a decent, positive emotion in years), but all the witnesses had gathered and Danny was plumbed in to the various bottles of narcotics and poisons that the state had deemed necessary to end his brutal and futile life.

Danny had a broad and glorious smile on his face as he lay there.

“Danny, your soul can transfer to anyone of the witnesses that you can see. Look over to the window, Danny. Who can you see?”

Danny looked toward the long section of mirrored glass that faced him. “I can’t see any of the witnesses, Lucifer! From my side, all I can see is my own reflection in the mirror!”

The devil shrugged. “Well, Danny, I guess your soul will have to change places with the only witness that you can see. Your own reflection in the mirror.”

Danny startled the witnesses by suddenly screaming out: “You lied! You lied to me! I’ll be trapped there forever! Why did you do this to me?”

“Because I can, Danny, simply because I can. And had you read the Bible you’d have seen that I am described in it as the father of all lies. Goodbye, Danny. Sweet dreams. If you can ever sleep, that is.”

Danny felt himself being absorbed into the cool hardness of the glass as he watched his own, or rather his former, body, spasm and go very still.

“Shit!” shouted one of the technicians in the control room. “That’s weird. We’re only half-way through the process, and he’s already flat-lined.”