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A Violent Necessity	By : reineSeele Category: G through L > Halloween (All) > Halloween (All) Views: 7356 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the Halloween movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Violent Necessity
- 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Michael Myers. If I did, my family wouldn�t see me for eight months out of the year and this fic wouldn�t even exist because I�d be too busy living out my sick and twisted fantasies. SO THERE. I�m not making money out of this, so don�t sue me. I also have permission to use HardcoreHorrorChick�s character Kat, so nyeah to that as well.

Summary: Michael hates distractions. What does he do when he happens across one that he can�t ignore? Prequel to HardcoreHorrorChick�s �What You Want and What You Need�

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To Michael Myers, masturbation was a violent and messy act performed out of necessity. He found neither pleasure nor peace in performing it. He did not need to picture scandalous images of nude women posing in suggestive stances to achieve an orgasm.
His slow and steady breathing would never rise to that desperate, half-pained, half-pleasured panting (sounds incomprehensible to the masked murderer) that was associated with such self-loving. His hands were never slow and gentle, eliciting delight, but were instead harsh, jerking movements who�s only purpose was to relieve the pressure.
It didn�t matter, though, for the end result was still the same: the mess was quickly taken care of and Michael went on with his existence, killing and stalking and killing again.
Sometimes he moved around from place to place in search of his victims, but he always came back home, back to Haddonfield. When he was home, everything was better. The nights were darker, welcoming him into its folds of black. There was silence, something that he had gotten used to during his stay at the psychiatric ward. The people were easier to hunt; they were so trusting, so innocent to the concept of murder.
Michael even savored his kills with a higher degree of satisfaction. To hear their screams, their muffled weeping, to feel their bodies go limp as he choked the life out of them��it gave him a strong sensation for which he had no name. Pride, perhaps, and certainly some excitement. It was an odd, foreign impression that caused his stomach to roll once or twice. Whatever the strange feeling, it was nonetheless exhilarating.
Unfortunately, the same surge that Michael experienced when killing did something else to him as well. It wasn�t unusual for a young man of his age to become aroused after an intense rush of adrenaline, coupled with feelings of excitement and need. Scientifically and theoretically speaking, it was entirely possible.
However, Michael wanted none of it. How he despised those little things that reminded him of his lingering humanity and his body�s errant lust for fleshly pleasures. He was not naïve, though. He had stared through enough windows to know what many types of stimuli could influence his body where his mind could not.
Psychologically, his �condition� was horrifying, to be aroused in the presence of death. Some would say that it was the reason he kept murdering. This was, of course, untrue. Michael simply couldn�t help his body�s reaction.
He remembered the very first time he had experienced an erection after murdering a young woman. He had been frustrated and confused, incapable of doing anything to relieve his condition due to his lack of knowledge. He eventually found that if he left it alone it would go away after a while, but Michael really didn�t have the patience for something so trivial. Besides, it made walking awkward and uncomfortable.
Thus, Michael did the same thing he did every time he wanted to learn something: he spied on those around him, observing their habits and behaviors. It had taken him three houses before he had found what he was searching for. Peering through one of the ground floor windows, Michael watched as a young boy in his mid teens undressed and lay down in his bed.
Michael had cocked his head to the side in curiosity as the boy began to touch himself, his fingers running over the flat planes of his chest and stomach. His movements had been slow and thoughtful, lavishing attention to almost every inch of skin he could reach.
Michael�s head moved to the other side as he considered the actions; he wasn�t interested in this. It wasn�t until the boy�s hand began to move lower and lower that he began paying close attention.
His would-be victim was completely unaware that he was being watched as he traced the waistband of his boxers before lifting his hips to slide them off. A groan escaped from his throat as he began to work his manhood with practiced strokes, running his fingers along its length and pushing himself off of the bed with his heels.
The boy was observed until he had found release; Michael had returned home without being seen, the desired knowledge swimming around in his head. The next time he was aroused, he would know what to do.
But masturbation had never been something to look forward to. Not for pleasure, relaxation, or even a distraction. It was just something that needed to be done every so often. It was an annoying part of his life that he found no use in whatsoever.
Michael wasn�t thinking about it as he stalked down the darkened street. He was thinking about who to kill. It had been a while and he was restless with boredom, so he took to the streets after the sun had set, intent on letting a little blood shed.
The first house wielded no results; its occupants were out and he wasn�t about to wait around for them to come back home. The next house was also empty, but the third house was teeming with people attending a birthday party or something. The fourth had too many dogs and the fifth was deserted.
The sixth house had much more favorable conditions. The owners of this house had no dogs and many windows. There were lights were on inside, but there was no car in the driveway. This could�ve meant several things, but after looking in through one of the windows, Michael saw a young woman lounging in front of her computer, right next to where he stood. She was looking at something with her eyes narrowed and a small smirk upon her lips.
Michael preferred to acknowledge the fact that she was alone. That made things easier. He could get in, kill her, and get back out quickly without being seen. He reached for the window, his hand steady and firm. She was close, so close. Close enough to grab and haul through the tiny opening.
Close enough to choke.
If Michael had been a tad faster in his approach, there was no doubt that the girl would�ve been dead and he would�ve gone back home, satisfied with this night�s kill. It would�ve been just another evening. However, he was momentarily distracted from breaking the lock when the girl stood up and pulled her shorts off.
His mind immediately froze as she undressed, kicking the shorts aside and doing a small dance in her lacy underwear. Why was she taking off her clothes? Was she expecting a boyfriend?
Michael quickly glanced around him, listening for the rumble of an engine. There weren�t any vehicles coming down the street, so he relaxed slightly. He still didn�t know why she was undressing. There was no one else in the room, was there?
The girl had sat herself back down in her chair and continued to stare at the computer screen. Michael craned his neck, looking for a mirror in which he hoped for a reflection. What was going on? What was she looking at? He couldn�t see anything, but he found that if he listened hard enough, he could catch minute sounds and even whole phrases.
But now he didn�t really care about what was happening on the computer, for his attention had been recaptured by the girl. She was picking at her panties, pulling the waistband and letting it snap softly against her skin. He exhaled sharply through the mask, wondering what she was up to.
She was chuckling to herself now as she moved the mouse around, clicking at random and waiting for the page to load. Nothing else was happening. Michael�s hand moved towards the window again; he wouldn�t allow himself to be distracted anymore. That thought was immediately trashed as the girl let out a deep sigh and slipped her hand into her lap.
�Hell yes,� she said loudly, her voice reaching Michael�s ears, even through the window. �What I wouldn�t give�� But the thing she wanted so willingly to give for was left unmentioned as she bit her bottom lip in��concentration? Frustration? Michael didn�t know, but tilted his head to the side, unable to discern what was happening. He was so intent on watching the girl that he failed to notice the small shiver that spiked through his veins, inducing his blood flow to increase and redirect itself to another area.
The girl was facing him; unable to see him, but he could see her perfectly. He could see every expression on her face as she underwent a collage of different emotions. More to the point, he could see her hand. It was in her underwear, but he didn�t know why. The look on her face told him nothing either, so he continued to watch.
Whatever was on her computer was having some sort of effect on her; her breathing changed, becoming irregular and she fidgeted in her chair. Michael could no longer see her hand, for she had drawn up her leg, blocking his view. He could hear her perfectly fine, though. That strange breathing pattern was now punctuated by little moans and sighs as she continued to��do whatever it was that she was doing.
For once in his life, Michael�s curiosity overrode his desire to kill. He leaned forward, forgetting that he could be seen. The girl was pretty, he noticed. Her blonde hair was long and her eyes were green. She wasn�t tall, but her body was��tantalizing in a way that he hadn�t thought possible. He didn�t normally notice these things.
Michael clutched at the windowsill, squeezing the frame so hard that the wood cracked under the pressure. The noise startled him and he ducked into the bushes, but he needn�t have worried; the girl was lost in her own little world and hadn�t heard a thing. As Michael crept back he was careful to align himself with the side of the house. That way, if the girl happened to glance out, she wouldn�t see him. But he could see her hand now, and what it was doing.
When she moaned loudly, a light bulb went off in the functioning part of Michael�s brain as he realized what was happening here. It was the same thing he did when he found himself in that annoying condition that he despised so much. She was pleasuring herself. The realization hit Michael like a cement truck; he hadn�t known that girls could do that. His breath quickened almost imperceptibly beneath the mask.
For some reason, the idea enthralled him and he leaned against the wall of the house for support, his hand brushing his thigh as he lowered his knife. This harmless and unintentional movement sent a bolt of electricity through Michael�s groin, causing him to look down. He had been so engrossed in the girl that he hadn�t even known that he was erect.
His eyes moved over the telltale bulge in his mechanics� jumper before glancing back at the girl��then back at himself. He was confused again. He was aroused, but he hadn�t killed anyone. He looked at the girl again, and then reached out a shaking hand to grasp his member through the rough jumpsuit. Was��was she the cause of this? Was his body reacting to her?
Michael stared at the girl and then back down at his manhood. He was so hard that it almost hurt. He couldn�t remember being this hard before, or even being aware of himself like this. He looked back to the window, absentmindedly stroking his shaft through his clothing. A shocking but pleasant feeling ran through him, much like the one before. It felt��good.
Michael paused. This had never been about feeling good. If it was, then he would have to admit to himself that he didn�t want to; the act would�ve made him seem more��human, if he were to receive pleasure from it.
But then again��he looked at the girl, watching her writhe and moan in her chair. Then, he looked down at his hand, which was still cupping his member. He had really liked the feeling. He really, really liked the feeling.
Slowly, almost regretfully, he unzipped the front of his jumpsuit and raised his hooded visage for the last time. Her hand was still immersed in her panties and she was whimpering most pathetically. Her hand moved. He concentrated, and the next time her hand moved, his moved with it.
A dozen nameless feelings flooded him as he pumped his cock in time with the girl�s movements, forcing him to rely on that wall more than he would�ve liked. It was different, so different compared to what he was accustomed to: those rough fumblings in the dark, the relentless jacking followed by a quick, harsh jerk or two and, finally, release.
His fingers traced his entire length, caressing it in a most unnatural way. He quivered uncharacteristically as the girl stretched her legs apart and mumbled a frustrated curse. Her hand was moving faster now, as if eager to get this over with. Michael began to stroke more rapidly, fisting his hand at intervals.
His mind was nearly numb from the merciless barrage of feelings and emotions that he was experiencing, but he didn�t want to stop. For once in his life, it was all about him. Not his sister, not his family, and not his damnable nieces and nephews. It was about him and what he was feeling at the moment.
A wince nearly worked its way through his lips, but he refused to make any noises that might alert the girl of his presence. Then again, she was being awfully loud herself. Michael allow himself two seconds of thought before deciding that he could afford that one luxury, albeit softly. The next sound that proceeded from his mouth was a deep, throaty moan, too low for anyone to hear, even if there were close by.
The girl inside the house gasped and pleaded with someone; Michael didn�t hear her, his heart was pounding in his ears too loudly. He forgot about the girl and her hand altogether as he closed his eyes. His fingers moved of their own accord, but Michael found himself thinking other things.
He thought about the girl�s mouth on his cock, sucking and licking; he had seen couples do that before. He pictured the girl in his mind, his first sexual fantasy, and he imagined her unzipping his jumper and taking his member in her hands. What would her touch feel like? Was it like his own of was it different?
His hips gave a little involuntary thrust into his hand and he nearly paused; why was his body�? The thought was pushed away as his curiosity and newborn lust took over, gluing his eyes to the form of the girl and not allowing him to look away.
He panted with the effort of staying upright. Why were his legs so weak all of the sudden? Was this normal? If it hadn�t been for the support of the wall he would�ve collapsed. There was too much and it was all too powerful. Michael�s unoccupied hand, which had long since dropped the knife in order to cling to the windowsill, shook as he tentatively touched his taut stomach.
His skin felt enflamed with something for which he had no words to describe, let alone name. His insides were churning and he felt an inexplicable heat pool in his lower belly, moving around like a nest of snakes. His face was flushed beneath the mask; the latex felt slick and sticky against his face, almost suffocating. Not for the first time in his career, he longed to remove it, but didn�t for fear of discovery.
He panted lightly and began to stroke his cock faster. His release was near and he could feel it, but this time he actually was actually looking forward to it. Something violent was happening in his body, something that he didn�t understand and couldn�t explain, but it was a good feeling. It was the kind of feeling that he wouldn�t mind experiencing again.
Something intangible swelled within him before he came, suddenly and all over his hand. Michael slumped against the house wall, shocked and somewhat frightened. He had never experienced such intense pleasure before, and his first taste was intimidating.
He looked down at himself, observing his hand and the fluid that covered it. Looking back to the window, he watched with wide eyes as the girl cried out upon achieving her own orgasm. If she looked tired, it was absolutely nothing compared to what he was feeling: exhausted, as if he had just chased her throughout the entire town. His legs trembled beneath his supported weight and his head felt light, dizzy.
What now? What was he supposed to do? He still hadn�t killed anyone. Reflecting on that thought, Michael found that he really didn�t want to. He wanted the girl. She was pretty and she had caused something to happen to him that he would never forget. Ever.
His sigh seemed far too loud to his own ears as he stuffed his dick back into the jumpsuit and zipped it up. He needed to move. If the girl came to window and looked out, she would see him and alert the police. He didn�t want that, especially since discovering the effect that she had on him.
He would come back, he decided, but when he did, he would be more prepared. There were plenty of houses with large windows, and not all couples were discreet about their private lives. He would watch and he would learn, and when he felt confident in all that he had absorbed, he would take that knowledge to her and use it.
He wasn�t sure how, but a plan could be made later. He would approach her, and if she resisted, well, he would kill her. Her death would be regretted, perhaps, but a necessary act if she showed any signs of weakness. If she broke and told someone��it would all pan out later.
A sudden noise moved Michael to action, and he melded into the darkened bushes without a single sound. Looking back, he saw that, sure enough, the girl had opened the window and was looking around. She was still panting as she peered about, sure that she had heard something that sounded very much like��well, never mind what it sounded like, but she was sure that there had been someone out there by the window.
Michael stared at her, memorizing every feature of her face and trying to control his labored breathing. She had made him feel. He wasn�t sure if this was a good or bad thing yet, but he had enjoyed the results so far. He would come back and visit her someday.

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Author�s Note: A prequel that I wrote to HardcoreHorrorChick�s awesome story, �What You Want and What You Need.� Michael�s POV. I�ll probably be writing more of them as she adds new chapters.
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A Violent Necessity