Jayden Lazarus

Summary

So, you wanna know about me do you? How I came to be like this, a demon. Y'know, not all of us are born in hell. Some of us are simply destined for it, and others... Well. Those like me, we're molded for it. I lived as a human, more than once actually. Hell just didn't wanna let me die until I was good and damned ready to pass on and become their favorite corpse hoarding death demon.

The First Life

So, you wanna know about me do you? How I came to be like this, a demon. Y'know, not all of us are born in hell. Some of us are simply destined for it, and others... Well. Those like me, we're molded for it. I lived as a human, more than once actually. Hell just didn't wanna let me die until I was good and damned ready to pass on and become their favorite corpse hoarding death demon. While I don't remember very much of it, I can tell you who I remember killing and when. It was later, after I became... This, when I was told there were supernatural forces at work keeping me from passing on too soon.

Hell's favorite necrophiliac. That's what I have become and that is what I always am. But let's save all that bullshit for later, I'm here to tell you how I lived aren't I? I'll do that the best I can, but only on the recollection of the people I killed and the trophies I kept from their corpses after I fucked them till their rot made them entirely unpleasant. Let's get started shall we?

Well, as every human is born, I had a mom and a dad. Sometimes a sibling. My first birth I was an only child. I say first because I was killed and reborn for nearly a century. Always dying young, and being born as the same person, but with vague memories of the past life. Nonetheless, let's start with the first. At least, the first life I remember well. I think it was the early 1920's, just before the time of World War Two.

My mother was my first kill. I was sixteen then. She was a grief stricken whore who lost her second child in the womb. The thing was practically rotting inside her, and god did that smell of death when I cut open her stomach... Simply wonderful. I couldn't help but want to bathe in the stench of that rotten hell hole inside her stomach. So I did, I ripped that thing right out of her belly and rolled in the mess I made of her viscera.

Father never found out who did it, but that abusive bastard was the next to go. And again I rolled in his stench as I did my mother's. For the first time, I pleasured myself on his corpse. That cold around my cock was the best I'd ever felt, and I wanted more.

At around the age of eighteen I remember having killed five more that no one ever discovered, and taking a job at a morgue. That place was when I really started to discover my taste for the dead. With every body brought in, I was there to care for it. Men, women, it didn't really matter as long as I could do whatever I pleased. However, the corpses started to become boring. I missed the killing. The struggle, the screams, the blood... It was that drive that really got me in the mood. I started to become the reason the morgue was filling up, and at twenty years old I was running the thing by myself.

I had a hoard of corpses at my disposal, every one of them shared their turns at pleasuring me in the best ways. Some decorated my walls, others became a comfortable place to sleep on. I felt like I had my heaven. Until that all came crashing down. Police got wind of my hoard. Breathers have such loud mouths, especially when it comes to their dead. Well, I was arrested, and deemed The Man of One-Thousand Corpses. A nice name, accurate, but I never got into the whole naming killers shabang. Gives some real crocks some great fucking infamy. I mean, Jack the Ripper? One big fucking coward if you ask me. Went into hiding once his murder spree was through and still no one knows who he was. Well lemme tell you, dear ol' Jack is here in Hell with all the other murdering assholes and he ain't what you would think.

Death Row, or as they called it 'The Mile', became my home. In that shithole I killed five guards and two inmates within the first week. One of those inmates met his fate at the expense of the barred jail cells. Smashed his skull into the door, closed it right on him. Can't say his death was slow, but his screams really made it worth my while. They may have taken my weapons, but I had no qualms in getting my hands dirty. The solitary confinement room became one of my favorite places to be. Cold, damp, and most of all quiet. That room was my second cell, they only pulled me out of there when someone else needed to be put in.

There was one breather I became connected with. The asshole of the block, Percy. I don't know what possessed him to come back for more, especially since our first meeting consisted of me smashing his head against my bars and making him piss himself. I'll admit, in my curiosity towards him, I didn't want to kill him. In fact he was one of the first I actually wanted to stay alive for as long as possible. We spent quite a bit of time on that block together. Had to be a few months at least. I'd convinced him to take me to the morgue a few times. Once I even covered him in the guts a viscera like I did for myself. He puked, but I had fun. I can't say I fell in love with him, but I enjoyed him.

Almost a year after that I died. Not by electric chair as one would expect for that time. They said that was almost merciful. No, I was put against a firing squad. The entire courtyard watched as I took twenty five bullets into my body at once. Amazingly none of them shot for my head, and two missed. A great fucking group of shooters that squad was. I mean... Who misses a target that's chained to the ground and blindfolded? They may as well have been blind themselves. However, I had the sinking feeling that one of those missed shots was Percy. He didn't want me to die and spent a lot of time trying to slow my execution time. I was in that block for a year more than I was supposed to, so while he did what he promised, my death was guaranteed no matter what.

That was the first time I watched my own body fall to the ground and bleed. Well, the feelings I had for that sight weren't what you would expect either. I hate to admit it, but I'm fucking terrified of my own death. Imagine, being afraid of death and watching yourself die over and over... One would think you’d become desensitized to it after a while. Trust me, you don't.

The Second Life

My next life started just two years after I died that first time, 1947, the same year as the Jake Bird murders. Oddly I always had the same name, the same birth date, and pretty much the same looks. Don't ask me why Hell did this, but I think it was a cruel joke they wanted to play on the humans by constantly reminding them that the killers from the past would always have a doppelganger. Well things started rather quickly in this new life. Right away school teachers started whispering about me, my own mother and father fought about it. At the time I had no idea what was going on. I was just a kid, why would I know anything about my past life then? I hated being that sort of confused, but it seems the world was confused as well.

The 50's were an odd time. I grew up when schools still split the black kids and the white kids up. The Korean War started, and Ed Gein was the biggest thing since leather sofas. God is he a character, pissed about Silence of the Lambs by the way. Anyways, elementary was not as one would expect. Filled with drama about ending segregation, and even more so about the revelation that smoking caused cancer. That smell will never leave my nose. Everyone smoked, kids started smoking as early as sixth grade. I hated it. In fact, I got pissed at a kid for smoking in class once that I shoved the lit end into his eye. Yeah I was expelled, had to move towns and was put into a school for troubled kids where all they did was put me in a corner and occasionally bloody my knuckles with a ruler. Cause y'know, punishing kids for their shitty actions in schools was still a thing back then and the parents didn't scream at the teachers for it either. Definitely not the smartest move I ever made, but the rest of fifth grade and middle school went rather quick.

1962 was my senior year in high school, I was sixteen. My dad decided to force me to go to the prom, two weeks later he turned up dead for that decision. A little revenge for what happened. I asked this girl, Juliet, to go with me. By that time my mom was dead, and despite the still ongoing controversy about me, my dad not only didn’t suspect that I killed my mom but he wanted me to have a 'normal' high school life. Prom was a bore, so much for 'best time of your life'. Juliet and I decided to ditch the dance and go 'elsewhere'. I knew what she wanted, but that urge for something more was so strong.

That life's first kiss was with this girl, but I had another first from the same night that made me very wary of women. Of course I killed her. Did it in the bed of her old man's truck by strangling her with the ribbon she tied her hair back with. What I didn't know was that she was pregnant... That is until I pulled the fetus right out of her. It was no bigger than my hand, but the way it squirmed... Only time I was ever grossed out from a kill. I didn't even fuck the corpse, I couldn't. Shortly after that my life was cut short. Juliet's old man found out about what happened, and though there was no proof that I did it, he took shit into his own hands. His hunch was correct about me, but in gunning me down he was thrown in prison for life. Too bad he died before I could get to him in this form, I would've loved to have killed him myself.

The Last Life

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Relationships

Belial
[Mate]

Belial is one of the only demons Jayden likes having around. While he does see Bel as a mate of sorts, Jayden keeps him as a part of his hoard of corpses.

Kinky Stuff

Because of Bel's inability to feel pain and regeneration, Jayden loves ripping him up like he does his corpses. He will make new holes to fuck, tear off his limbs, pull out his organs, and run him through with his tail spike.