One night, I heard my nieces whispering; they were talking about the new pastor at the church that I hadn’t attended since I was younger then them. Curious, I leaned in and listened. One whispered that she’d heard the pastor had been having “relations” with some of the choir boys and girls. Another one whispered that she’d seen pictures by accident; he had showed them to her, but she had ran out of the room before he could touch her. Infuriated, I decided to take a trip down to the church. Candles were lit and lights were on in the study, so I was sure the pastor was there. My heavy heels clicked against the thin carpet as a young, blonde man emerged from the study. When I told him that I was looking for the pastor, he surprised me by informing me that I was looking at him. He was so young, younger than I can ever remember seeing a pastor. I could see how some of his young flock may be attracted to the smooth-talking, baby-faced young man; but he didn’t fool me. I knew that my nieces would never lie about those things that I heard them speaking about.
He looked me up and down, and I could see a little disappointment in his face. “Usually, the young girls and boys hang out here at night. I like to keep them out of trouble,” he said. I replied, “I bet.” I looked around his office while he sat in his expensive leather chair an impatiently waited for me to explain why I was there. I wasn’t in a rush since I had locked the church door behind me; but, I did find it odd that all of his pictures were of young people and himself. Fuming, thinking that one of those young faces could have been my niece, I wrapped a chord around his wrists. I pressed my spiked heel to his rotatory cuff and twisted his arms out of their sockets. He screamed, but not to my satisfaction. I took the envelope opener from his desk and began sawing off his trimmed pecker. It took sweat and muscle, but it was an enjoyable feat. Then, I drug him to the alter, where there were a few feathered harnesses laying by the stage. “They’re my little angels. You don’t understand.” I told him that I did and kicked the bloody mass between his legs until he was sitting beneath the table that held the offerings during service. I carved “false prophet” on his chest. I blindfolded him and told him that I sparing the looks of horror from those that found him; but, I wanted him to acutely hear their screams.
I wasn’t sure that night if he lived or not; but, he did. A couple of months later, though, he was back in the newspapers: this time he was found with his throat slit over the chalice bowl. It seemed that someone else didn’t like what he was doing, either. But, it also seemed more personal: there was a crucifix shoved up his urethra, what was left of that dick that he’d loved using so much.
I had watched her for a few days. She had a definite heroin problem and sold herself only to feed her habit. I don’t mind drugs, but they’re supposed to be recreational…not all of life. Anyway, I knew that she wouldn’t be missed. So, with my sweet smile and the promise of a stupid cheeseburger, I lured her into one of the seedy motels nearby. I had everything set-up. And, when she entered, I motioned toward the rickety table that barely held up the burger on the plate. She talked about how long since she’d eaten; it was difficult to understand her as she garbled up her food and swallowed it with the help of some water nearby.
I watched her with intense interest and disgust. Finally, as she was eating the last remaining bites, I told her that she was actually eating something that I cooked. She didn’t look surprised or care; but, I continued to explain that I had a very interesting diet and it’s difficult to find people who share my delicate tastes. She exhaled loudly and began to get up since the food was gone. I told her not to be in a rush and she sat back down. “Did you know Miriam?” I asked. She nodded and told me a short sappy story about how she vanished; maybe she had been kidnapped by one of her Johns. I told her that was not the case; in fact, Miriam was with us here and now. She looked around the room, searching vigorously for her friend; then, I gestured toward the table at her plate.
Stupid girl didn’t understand so I plopped a picture of her dead friend, mutilated in my dungeon. She acted as if she was going to throw-up; but, when she stood, she quickly realized that she couldn’t. The eye drops that I had put in her water had knocked her out. I proceeded to cuff her to the bed and place a plastic bag over her head. She came to for only a few minutes; the rising and falling of the bag was beautiful. There’s just something about watching someone’s last breath! As she struggled to breathe, I read a few bible verses; I couldn’t think of anything meaner to do. But, I was quiet for her last gasp. I completed my afternoon by carving out a gaping hole in her upper torso. I packed the meat in my bag in case I wanted to feed another prostitute later. But, before I left, I had to break the cheap lamp by the bedside and shove it up into her nasty cunt. I thought that was a proper send-off.
for Rick
My accomplice and I are lucky that we have very similar tastes in meals: the young, plump, and healthy ones. We decided to case out a parking lot of a local water park; I wanted a larger theme park (for more options), but my accomplice was quick to inform me that such a choice would come with dangers…most specifically, security cameras.
I wore a short coat with a hood that looked like I could have a bathing suit beneath it; and, he wore his normal attire because he would be staying near the van. It was dark, so I didn’t need my hood; but, covering more of my face made me look even younger. And here they were: a young couple of coeds having a quarrel. “Sir, my daddy needs car help,” I said in my little girl voice. I shuffled my legs like a teenager. And, of course, his female companion was sympathetic.
When we approached the van, my accomplice forced some chloroform to her mouth while I slit the man’s throat. We headed home while our little female captive was bound snugly behind the seats. I kept checking on her; I wanted to see her face when she opened her eyes and saw her dead companion with his neck barely hanging by a thread of skin to his body. And, it was exquisite; those large eyes, the tears…
I would discard the male’s body near a local bar after injecting heroin into his veins. Then, the female…she was going inside the house with us and straight to the kitchen. The spices were spread across the kitchen counter as my mentor handcuffed her hands to the metal rail on the table. I made slits in her flesh to place extra seasoning. The rosemary and red wine were added; and my accomplice placed stuffing in her ass. It was odd but nice how our victim had become dazed and compliant, almost as if she was having an out-of-body experience.
But when we placed her on the roaster, the bitch started screaming; he assured me that that the screaming would stop very soon…as soon as her lungs were filled with smoke. We saluted to our accomplishments and discussed how flavorful this one would taste. We traded compliments and began enjoying the lovely whiff from the kitchen. Mhmm…yes, it was one of the most exquisite dinners ever!
She was at the local coffee shop on her way to the next-door bakery. She had luscious red curls and thick, juicy thighs. She was the perfect body type for one of my cannibal friends, but she was a little older than co-ed age; regardless, she provided the perfect opportunity to hone stalking skills. Her day patterns were easy and consistent. But, her night patterns were changing. She cautiously made her way to an abandoned building; her car and two more were hidden in the brush of the dilapidated building. Any stalker’s footsteps would be barely audible because of the echoing of their voices and their own movements along the creaky floor.
Around the corner, her bare, porcelain rump was in the air. She was gagged and both men stood on opposite sides of her. They began ridiculing her for being so fat, so plump; and, they yelled obscenities at her for being a whore who was about to receive her just desserts. She seemed to be begging for her release, but she wasn’t very convincing. The little whore was enjoying the scene, which was apparent as one of the guys mocked her sloppy wet cunt. One of the other men took off the gag and slapped her face, instructing her to beg for them to fuck all of her nasty holes. One pulled her head back by her hair and grunted, “It’s not like your fantasy, is it, pussycat?!” She began to cry but she was enjoying it all.
One man shoved the handle of a hammer inside her cunt and then proceeded to force his cock inside her asshole. The other man placed a contraption in her mouth that kept her teeth spread open and he pushed his cock inside her mouth. “Don’t bite me, or you’ll be sorry, bitch.” She nodded. After the men were through shooting their cum on her, they whipped her and kicked her. She struggled to get up after they left; she was bloodied, bruised, and saturated with cum. This little cunt had some wicked fantasies that she was exploring; and, anyone who watched the scene would’ve wondered how far she would go to have those desires satiated.
I set the stage to my perfect standards and then returned to my prey in the church closet. The poor little soccer mom wasn’t so demure as she pretended in church; instead of her soft voice, she was yelling foul words at me…it was laughable! I told her to calm down and forced her to drink the entire chalice of communion wine. She became limp and I drug her through the church up to the stage where she was directing that damn nativity play. I felt a little throw-up in my mouth as I thought of all the Jesus songs and fucking parking mess that the whole thing had created. The madness had to stop. I hoisted her up on a ladder, balancing her until she was positioned properly on the cross. I took a chisel and banged led files through her limbs to keep her where I wanted her. She looked at the blood and vomited; luckily, I side-stepped it and told her that wasn’t very Christ-like of her. I laughed and pushed a crown of thorns that I’d had made especially for her. “Realism is the key,” I said, “to any production.” She continued to swear, but her words turned into mumbles as I slit her clothes open and drained her blood. “You look more like a whore,” I said and decided to write “Mary” in her own blood in front of her. I paid extra attention to making sure her breasts and pubic area were exposed; then, as a last gesture, I shoved a dildo in the shape of a cross up her ass. With her remaining blood, I spread it over the plastic little animals that were huddled around the manger. Pleased with my work, I sliced her neck, her head falling so violently that it almost fell off. I admired the scene and felt confident that the brats who came in for practice would be singing a different tune than the one that had echoed down my street.
I found the perfect dinner! She’s lovely, round in all the right places and young. The only problem is that she is wealthy and Daddy keeps with her a bodyguard at all times. I captured her friend, a little less meaty but still worthwhile and I told my young, plump prize that her friend would be killed unless she swapped places. Sure enough, she slipped past her bodyguard and arrived at my house. I gave the stupid little girl my address because I knew she wasn’t going to call the cops, and I also knew that none of my prey ever walked out of my house. Meanwhile, I had been fattening up the friend, who was filling out nicely.
When my little prize walked through the door, I noticed that she had crumbs of Oreos around her luscious lips; poor thing had probably been stuffing her emotions, worried about her friend. I appreciated that. This was going to require a lot of work, so I enlisted the help of a friend. He bound my pretty little prize while I took her friend out of the cage. Relieved, she thought she had saved her friend; and, the friend thought she would be released. Stupid things. My mouth was watering as I began preparing my tools and heard her little whimpers. My friend had already started carving her friend and I was glad. The smell of blood and meat permeated the air and made me even hungrier for the young chubby thing that graced my table. She didn’t even struggle; I could’ve forgone the restraints, but I knew she would be flinching when I began using my knife.
Her beautiful eyes were even more beautiful in death; and, the blood that followed the trace of my knife matched her hair. I had to stop at several points and admire her, committing the scene to memory and also memorializing it on film. Her breasts, large and natural, were going to make an excellent soup. I decided to even leave the cute little nipples on them…confident that they would soak up flavor very nicely. After the long, worthwhile work, I had a friend who specialized in taxidermy and had her head stuffed as a trophy. I took her rings and laced them around her lovely curly locks of hair. She sits in my study and I still enjoy admiring her, recalling our time together and how savory she was.
My hunger for flesh has been undeniable; and, yesterday, I had the great fortune of talking with someone who has my same unusual tastes. He shared a picture and several ideas that captured my interest; and, with the proper planning, I went out to execute it myself…even though it was risky alone. It was almost dusk, so I had to hurry to the local hiking trail. The pretty little families and coeds walked past; but, in the distance, I could see a large group and one particular meaty chick was lagging behind. I double-checked my trap and waited. One of her stupid little skinny friends stopped to help her; but, I breathed a sigh of relief when she returned to a boy that was further ahead.
I smelled the group as they passed; this catch would definitely need a bath before eating and I was glad that I set-up next to a creek. She was teetering and I was afraid that she would miss the spring that would trigger the net; so, I stepped out in front of her and asked if she could help me…that I had sprained my ankle. Oh, the ones with a little bit of body issues are so easy to snag! And, quickly, she was floating in the air in the net! I forced her to drink a concoction that would make her easier to maneuver; and that was easy because her mouth was open as she sobbed. She didn’t even scream because she knew that she was destined to be prey. I cut the rope and she lay there as I drug her and washed her.
Then, I bound her wrists and legs. Not correctly gauging her weight or tolerance, she began to come out of the semi-unconsciousness and began begging for her life, struggling against the ropes. I quit listening until she said that she had so many people that I loved her; looking up at her, I showed my doubt. She instantly burst into sobs and was quiet the rest of the time. I was going to attempt to roast her over a fire that I had recently created. I hadn’t realized that she’d be so heavy, though; as I carved her meaty flesh, I decided to take what I wanted. I’d leave a little of her hidden in the brush for a friend, whom I’d call and offer that part of the kill.
I happily returned to my vehicle and placed the backpacks of fresh meat in the trunk; her friends hadn’t even missed her yet. They were all huddled around a truck and drinking beer. Yes, she was better off where she was going; at least she’d bring pleasure this way, and I was quite certain that her own seasoning would be delicious.
It’s New Orleans, one of my favorite places to be because it is so damn crazy. I was walking past a residential area when I heard muttering; I squinted and I could see a flashlight in one of the graveyards. I thought it was just a couple of teens playing around, maybe spray-painting the tombstones. But, then I heard, “No, I am not opening it! I just got my nails done!” I was intrigued and moved in for a closer look. There were a bunch of young sissies standing around a couple of open tombs; only the final cover remained between them and the corpse. “We have to do it, ya’ll or Master will be angry,” one of the more logical ones said. My ears perked up: these sissies belonged to someone. I focused on them and could see that they were really not prepared to do what they were instructed to do; after all, who wears high-heels and short skirts on a job like this? Finally, the logical one opened the casket, struggled with the body, and then demanded help. The others helped lift the body, and then it became apparent what they were doing: they were stealing the clothes off the dead people! Most of them gagged as they did this, but I was impressed with their resolution and continued to follow them. “Now, girls,” the sissy whose nails were recently manicured said, “remember that we must prance our little sissy hearts out! Master is watching and we cannot disappoint him. No stealing beads, but everything else is fine. Beads must be earned from flashing!” And, along they marched, this very interesting crew. I walked down Bourbon Street as far as I could without getting absorbed into the crowd; and, sure enough, there was a man sitting on a balcony with a cigar…and a woman, wearing a dog collar, at his feet. Our eyes met and we had an understanding; I smiled as the crowd became even more boisterous. Yes, the sissies had arrived!
Summer is a ripe time to find young, fresh bodies; I prefer the ones with a healthy mixture of fat and muscle…otherwise, they taste too tough or too soggy. We cannibals banded together to go on camping trip of sorts; really, we were hunting for campers. And, as luck would have it, when we arrived at the park, we could see a blaze of fire in the distance; it looked to be the perfect length from the entrance. It wasn’t too close or too far away, nestled deep in the woods.
The teenagers were already fairly intoxicated, but we’d burn that off soon enough. We put out some great wines, perfectly seasoned for our purposes. The greedy youngsters were happy to drink our wines. We told them that we had something stronger if only they would do something for us. The girls agreed without even hearing the entire proposition. One of my comrades gave them some oils and told them to bathe each other in it. The guys thought it was hot and my party chuckled at their enthusiasm…and naiveté. Soon they were lathered, so we put out a clean blanket for them to sit on; we didn’t want grass in our entrees.
One of my male companions bound the girls. I had other things on my mind: I walked stealthily behind the chairs of the young men…and quickly slit their throats. To be honest, none of us liked the taste of males, and they were becoming more than a little annoying with all of their immature sexual innuendos as the girls sautéed themselves.
One of the girls noticed how quiet it was; one said the guys had probably passed out. Being myself, I said, “No, look at the way their heads are positioned.” One screamed, then another, until all of them were in unison. One of my companions chastised me but I shrugged and told them that their adrenaline would make the spices pump faster through their bodies. It was time: the sharp sticks that we had brought were set up over the fire; the young idiots really hadn’t done a horrible job assembling the bonfire.
Stakes were in the ground and now it was time to hoist our meals. I tenderized them by whipping them; and, then I jabbed several sticks with various vegetables through their jaws and thighs. I had the good mind to cut their vocal cords; and, then we were able to recline with a glass of wine and wait to devour our lovely meal!
They were herded like cattle, forced to bathe under high-pressure hoses, and watch as their family members perished. After the first couple of sawed, mutilated, and tortured bodies, most of the victims were more worried about themselves…than showing outward feelings about being disgusted as their spawn were executed. The large basement looked like a slaughterhouse, and it was.
It took four of us to carve out their bodies, remove intestines, and season. The fattier ones were grilled like stake and anointed with pineapples. One particularly attractive red-head was sliced up to be pepperoni for the pizza, which would surely be a hit among the munchkins that attended dinner.
We sampled everything, taking delight in our creations before sharing them with our next victims. Once they arrived and were seated, we presented the courses on white napkins and formal place settings. They were all curious about why some of their family members were not there, but they made the normal excuses (too busy, drunk, etc.). The adults and spawn thanked us for our creations.
Offering up a video from one of the family members who could not make it, we turned out the lights and dispersed. Pressing steel blades against their throats, we turned on the film. They agonized and moaned, watching their loved ones being hacked up. One woman looked down at what remained of her fillet minion and vomited; what a waste, I thought, because she had so enjoyed her aunt only minutes earlier!
We began torturing what remained of the family in our own special ways. Preferring knives, I sliced off the woman’s breasts and peeled back the flesh on her stomach. Her eyes were the last to go because I wanted her to see the bloody scene until she died. Then, it was time to prepare our meal from our newest kill. There’s just something about the taste of fear that seasons food like nothing else!
