that boy needs therapy!

After a tense ride over, Logan got off at the bus stop of an area near the Underground. The poor, shady part of the city. He didn't belong here, and he could feel his lip curling at the sights, the smell and taste of the air, and worst of all, the people. He'd worn plain clothes, tried his best not to look too rich-- and his father had wanted to teach him things about butchery, right? He should be wearing clothes he could get dirty in, he imagined.

He wondered which type of butchery it was going to be. Despite his outer disdain, Logan's insides were practically bursting with excitement and nerves. He knew who his dad was, now. He'd looked up his name on the internet as soon as he'd finished their visit and his shower. Billy Graham, AKA, The Butcher. A classic, in terms of serial killer names.

He couldn't help but be giddy that it was his father that had the novelty nickname, but, of course, he was even more hyped up over what his dad was in general. He had a disinterest in the rapist status, but murder, and… and cannibalism? Oh, Lord. Logan's dreams swirled with pretty, thick splashes of red on a daily basis. He'd considered taking a life, but he'd never thought of consumption, of heat and flesh against his teeth and throat. Not in this light.

He did once he'd found out about his dad, though. He'd started thinking on it, and never stopped since. It hadn't been that long, of course. Billy had only waited until the weekend to invite him over. Logan was looking forward to seeing his dad again, and so soon, too! It was nice, to not have to wait, now. He bounced on his feet, tail swishing about happily, while he walked to the address given. He knew he should be ducking his head, trying not to draw attention to himself and his horn, but he couldn't help it!

He entered the apartment building quietly and kept to himself, retreating back into his more reserved persona, which tended to do the trick of not getting him attention well. He climbed the stairs to the second floor. When he was outside the door, he stopped. Shit. Should he have gotten his dad some kind of, he didn't know, gift? Food, what, a tie? Billy wouldn't want a tie, that was a stereotypical idea. He wasn't sure what he liked, though, past… well, maybe he could give him porn site recommendations, or a new knife. He decided to ask. He sucked in and held his breath, then knocked on the door, melodic.

Logan lit up at seeing his father in what happened to be a wonderful, artfully mixed combination of fucked up and daddy issues. Either way, he was fond. "Hi dad!" he chirped. He'd never gotten this friendly of a welcome from that fucking piece of shit Adam, had he? He gladly went along with being led in, flushing lightly when patted, giggling a little.

"You got food? Ah, you didn't have to." He sniffed at the air, eyes fluttering shut. Meat pizza. His mouth watered. He could also smell cum. He opened his eyes again, and was greeted with quite the sight. His breathe hitched, and he gave big blinks, taking it in. That was a person. A living, conscious person, with a personality, a family, shaking and recently violated. It was different, wasn't it, seeing a scene so disturbing right in front of you, not solely on a computer screen in the middle of the night.

He glanced around, on edge, paranoia demanding it. He felt like the situation he was in had to be a joke, or even better, a trick. He was waiting for someone to show up and drag him to prison, or for a higher power to frown down upon him.

Truly, there was nothing. This fact slowly sank into Logan, further dawning on him. He wondered. Was God inexistent, or was he simply careless? He looked over to Billy briefly, then to the darling tied to the chair, stepping closer, almost bashful. She was beautiful. He could see strands of long, blond hair even with that sack over her head. Quiet sniffles, she was crying, and he wished her face was visible. Logan liked the faces. The bodies weren't bad either, and he examined her with pink cheeks, shifting on his feet, staring at perfect breasts and how she dripped with cum.

He leaned in to touch the girl curiously once he felt bold enough, running his delicate fingers over her collarbones, watching her jolt. It made him shiver, edges of his lips twitching, more interested focus from the reaction, dilated eyes, like a cat who'd seen a sudden movement.

It was all so allowed and easy, nothing opposing such inappropriate fascination and disregard of human decency. Atrocity turned casual. The forceful could gain whatever they pleased in this world. Logan shrugged off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor, and went to grab a piece of pizza and stuff his face with it. "Mm. Sooo gooood…" His tastebuds were in heaven, bacon, sausage and friends a real gift. After chewing and swallowing properly, he smiled at Billy and gave him a thumbs up. "Thanks."

After picking up a beer, thumbing the tab distractedly without opening it, Logan sat down. His attention remained on the girl rather than the TV, and he continued nibbling on his slice of pizza. "She's very attractive," he noted, as an answer to Billy's last question. "I know what you do, now. Where'd you find her? Has she struggled? How do you move them without anyone noticing? What do people tas--" He bit the inside of his cheek and cleared his throat. "I'm… sorry. I've been thinking a lot, and now I'm rambling."

He scrubbed his warm face, hands kept pressed to it for a moment. "It's kinda… cool, to have a famous dad, right?" He grinned against his palms. "Infamous. I don't know. Does it make a real difference? I feel, maybe, special. The Butcher's son. Mom never made it sound glamorous, and Adam, even worse. Rapist biological father, just another, what, asshole loser. Anyone can be that, and they wanted me to be the opposite, while still expecting it. Serial killer! Cannibalism! Your name in the news, blood on your hands, that's-- that takes character, talent!"

He cracked open the beer and chugged some of it. The taste was less than desirable, but he reveled in the experience. Sneaking out to do this with his old man. He turned to Billy with starstruck eyes. He was... a fan. He could look up to this. He could, as shocking as it felt to admit, aspire to something near this. Did his dad know? That they shared the same powers. Logan didn't think he knew, yet. He hoped he'd get a flashy chance to show it off.

The fire escape. That was convenient. Being aware of your surroundings and the layouts of buildings was an important thing, wasn't it? Logan listened to all the answers intently, biting his lip at the note about powers. They were perfectly designed for this, weren't they? Perhaps it'd been shaped purely for the butchery of animals, but happened to be even more effective here. It seemed too tempting to not practice on other people.

Logan watched when his dad displayed the sedation ability. It was no different than his own, as he suspected. He remembered the times he'd used it, with great shame, on his sister Gracie when she'd thrown her tantrums, in small doses to make sure she'd never realize. A rarely used measure, but a lifesaver. And the moment he'd told his mother, watching as she recoiled and began to hyperventilate, her expression glazing over with fear and a lack of focus, seeing his father in front of her again. The memory was bitter, but he understood her properly now, with less childish distress, more…

He looked at his dad's eyes, and how the girl responded, and he could see where it all originated from. His family's views towards him, his own feelings. There was a part of him that was spiteful, towards that. He had no problem fooling anyone he came across outside that house, but there, under the pretense of family, they knew. Somehow, they thought they had the right of knowing, and he couldn't go against it, else he'd have to work even harder. Logan didn't like rigged games that weren't self created.

A person reduced to meat. Pleasures of the flesh, that truly was their passion, Billy and Logan. He muffled a little giggle at that thought, and the way she was tossed around. Lord above, he was a submissive person, typically. He was careful not to overstep boundaries, push, be impolite. This whole situation was the exact opposite of his usual. Subduing something else and bending it to your will, making its purpose that alone, letting hunger alone lead you and overwhelm.

The woman on the table was at his father's mercy, and she wasn't even really a woman anymore. Prey, or worse, an object, tied up on that table, red on her skin. Logan was not incapable of seeing other humanoids as people, but this set of actions, it stripped that away quite thoroughly, to the point that he was impressed with the technique. Treating a human like an animal, you knew the motions, you could go along with them. You developed methods for dealing with and thinking about animals that were raised for slaughter, and could separate them from your pets. It was hardwired into the majority, and for some, like Logan and his dad, it was an even stronger instinct.

As far as Logan was concerned, he was merely in the slaughterhouse with Billy, or playing a game. He stood when he was beckoned over, smiley at the reaction to his praise. "Kids are supposed to idolize their dads a little, aren't they? It isn't too much, with that in mind." He examined the red lines, ready to learn, before turning to the girl's face. Her eyes followed him.

He curled his fingers around soft blond hair, wiping away the drool at her lips before, on impulse, dipping down to kiss. She was about to die anyway, wasn't she? There wasn't any harm. He straightened back up quickly. "Curiosity," he explained shortly. "I don't plan on making a habit of that. Not that you care."

He touched her eyelashes, his own eyes round, then firmly kept his hands to himself, puffing out a cheek. He could do that, he could! Billy would probably make fun of him for it, but he was going to anyway. Logan admired the knives instead, the subtle glint in the dim light, how his father went of out his way to make what was about to happen clear to his victim.

Was it more satisfying, that way? Taking advantage of what little consciousness they had, in order to gain amusement and pleasure from it? Funny. They were meat, but their ability to fear and be aware was still acknowledged and appreciated. That set this apart from working with animals about to be slaughtered. It was food, it was dominance, and it was entertainment, all in the same package.

"Would you like me to only be a quiet student, this time, or should I…" Logan asked tentatively, trailing off. His gaze flitted between the girl and Billy, not settling on one or the other for long.

Logan gasped in surprise, then melting into giggles, when he was grabbed and pressed to Billy. He sighed and trembled a little, decently ruffled from all his exploring with the girl-- not to mention from being in the presence of his father at all, after what they'd already done, and definitely wanted to continue. He bit at the inside of his cheek when his neck was given attention, and threw his arms around Billy's neck to kiss him back with a passion.

He stared, hazy eyed, after it was broken, and rolled his hips lightly against the other man's while they were still close. "All you need to do is ask. Or don't, just go ahead and take me," he mumbled, flushed. Licked his lips after pulling away, focusing back in on the girl, peering at the squirming curiously. There was a sense of fulfillment in seeing her movements slow and die, a comfortable power rush. Logan wondered, then, what he was doing here. Was it possible, to justify this, and his relaxation? He knew exactly what they were doing here, and he'd walked straight into it. He hadn't been forced, he'd been invited.

Not forced to let Billy Graham into the house, to return his advances, or to go out of his way to show up for a murder lesson. Nothing of that had been influenced by anything aside from his own free will. Freedom was a scary thing, wasn't it? This was what he chose to do, when finally offered it. He didn't know why he'd ever expected anything else, or tried to lie to himself. Now that he knew his previous family wasn't the only option for him, he supposed it didn't matter like it used to. His outlook and lifestyle was shifting and twisting. Only one or two, tiny, pesky wildcards being introduced, but shuffling the entire deck.

His dad slit the girl's throat. Logan watched as any sign of light that'd been left faded from her eyes. He'd never witnessed anyone's death, not even from old age. He'd killed animals, himself. A person's passing was supposed to be heavier, to be mourned and respected seriously. He hadn't witnessed a death before now, but he'd been to funerals. He'd always wanted to peek in the coffins, when they were closed. He'd wanted to see if the corpses were rotting.

This girl was dead. Unmistakably so. Still and empty. Logan's eyes were round, heartbeat feeling slow and fast at the same time. The blood was barely a trickle. He had to remember to breath, fingers twitching at his sides, fisting into the fabric of his shirt. If humans weren't meant to hunt their own, desecrate their own, why did God make them this beautiful when they were torn and broken? It was like a too roughly loved toy, and there was a charm in that, a fondness. What better way was there to die, but to be overused and indulged in?

He nodded along with his father's explanations, silent but listening to every word spoken. He shuffled his feet absently, restless and excited to find out what this tasted like. That was the unanswered question, and he imagined it'd be best to discover for himself. Logan liked meat. It was a Graham trait, wasn't it? And liking this meat would be a parentally inherited one. The first thing that popped into his head, after that, was "Can I watch sometime? When you butcher someone alive, that is." He shut his mouth and reigned back the enthusiasm a bit, embarrassed. "Unless you don't like too much company. Then I'll… set it up to experience for myself."

He was glad, though, that this was hands on. That was music to his ears. He fidgeted further, unable to stay still, and clutched his hands to his mouth when the telekinesis was finally used, muffling a choked sound of shock and awe. "Christ," he whispered. Very different from clumsy, then ashamed usage on stray animals. He looked at the flesh as it was pulled from bone and put aside. Lord above. His hands shook more violently for a moment, before the knife was offered to him, and his shaking stopped completely.

He took it, letting the weight ground him, getting used to and memorizing what it felt like in his hands. He ran his fingers along the sides of the blade appreciatively, giving the handle a squeeze. Hovered over the other thigh. Then, he put it back down on the table, a decent distant from him, ignoring the tool. He stood up straight, glancing at Billy once, then down at the red lines, magic waking up as they sliced open then sank through the meat. It wasn't as neat as his father's, no, but it was exhilarating.

As soon as he was done, the shaking came back with a vengeance, full body shivering and nervous, dilated eyes. He turned his face to Billy again and broke out into a grin, manic around the edges. "W-was that okay?" he asked, tone hopeful and thickly flustered. "I know you gave me the cleaver to use, but…"

Logan didn't stop grinning, but he did grow progressively pinker. His dad was so happy with him. Because of the powers that'd ruined him for everyone else. It should've been a bad sign, it was a bad sign, the worst possible, but it only made Logan want to tear up in joy. He didn't, not now, not in front of the father he wanted so badly to impress. The fact that he could impress a parent at all was such a foreign concept, and he didn't want to miss any chances with it. He wouldn't forgive himself if he messed up. Billy was his last option, and it was filthy, but the bar for showing familial affection towards Logan had never been high.

The unicorn boy ducked his head at the praise, shy and respectful. "T-thank you, sir, I'm honored… I'll do my best not to disappoint you!" He twiddled his fingers a bit, staring down at them while he got his composure back. His head was spinning. He had control over this situation, had positively affected it, erased doubts! That was surreal. He couldn't take it for granted. All the self imposed rules he felt so strongly about might've sounded intimidating, but they were far gentler than those he had with the Delacroixes, and didn't bother him. He had something to hang onto now. It was easier than he'd ever expected to completely bend his morality and upbringing, when promised so much more.

He watched the rest of the process with bated breath, taking in everything he could, memorizing it so he could copy the process. Even if he hadn't been trying to learn and take the lesson seriously, it was mesmerizing. Looking away was impossible. Every horrible, infectious idea and urge that'd popped up in his mind over the years had sprung to life. There was no going back. Between the blood and sex, his family's concerns about him were becoming a reality. And he felt fine.

"I won't complain. About anything," Logan said, voice soft, bizarre for the setting. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to his father and absorbing the words, a child whose development wasn't yet over. Like any animal. Animals. People were animals. When they already had monsters that relied on human flesh to survive, the butcher shops shameless and in broad daylight, that wasn't hard to accept.

And when he heard the bit about what to eat, he had the most striking impulse to be someone with that acquired taste. Logan had a lot of dramatics to him, and grew excited at the concept of consuming hearts, taking and making them his own forever in a physical manner along with emotional. It was very powerful. But he understood the point that was being made here. "I won't be wasteful," he pledged next. It was a good standard to have. And he'd invest in a whole collection of new tupperware and bags.

Back to the meat. Logan nodded along, starting to salivate at the mention of burgers. His family had always been more subtle with their food, but he was attracted to bolder things like meat, extremely rich dishes, and fast food nonetheless. Strong tastes were an obsession rooted in his heritage. When asked to, Logan murmured a 'yessir' and went back to work at the body, swallowing and repeating what he'd seen from Billy. Practice, practice made perfect, and he wanted to take full advantage of the practice he had available to him, to show his dad there wasn't a brighter pupil around. To make sure he didn't regret Logan. Last option. No paths left but this one. His humanity in exchange for love and rightness, in more personal senses of the words.

The way the red lines began on the skin, then swelled open and apart, was beautiful. Logan imagined prettier and prettier patterns with it, on prettier and prettier bodies, and this one was already gorgeous. Different palettes, poses, settings, moods. He'd have to try everything, when he wasn't following these careful directions. And it was cleaner, this time, results already presenting themselves. Logan rubbed at his shaky hands and smiled shyly, then scrubbing his face for a moment, laughing. This was why being a bad person was so dangerous, wasn't it? It didn't feel bad, once you were doing it. It felt the opposite of bad. He cleared his throat. "All done, dad. What next?" What next, he continued to ask, in various wordings, what would you like from me, and whatever Billy answered with was guiding Logan towards who he'd become, and who he'd stay.