Archive-name: eat_me

"Fuck!" screamed Cindy, throwing down the phone so hard that Stanley woke up, fixed him with a baleful eye, and grunted before settling back down to his nap.

"Damn!" Cindy said, as she logged her 32nd disappointment of the week. "Why isn't this working, Stanley? I thought it was a great idea, placing a personal ad that says: "Eat Me" in capital letters, but nobody understands what I want. Look at this log: 8 guys who want to eat my pussy, 12 guys who want to suck my tits, 11 bimbos who want to do the same, and one clown who wants to put peanut butter on them first! This is NOT what I had in mind!"

Stanley grunted and scratched his ear, rolled over on his back and began to snore.

Cindy approached the phone with trepidation the next night, fiddling with the pen as she opened the log book and dialed in to the service. Six more messages. "Great", she thought, "I'm paying a fucking fortune for this shit, and I bet not one of these messages is what I'm looking for". Two messages later, she was ready to hang up in disgust, but hit the button for the third message out of habit. A long pause caught her attention, then the voice: deep, male, saying simply: "Raw or cooked? I can help you with the latter." Cindy dropped the phone, this time on the again napping Stanley, who wouldn't have been able to sleep through the uproar anyway.

"Stanley! Stanley!" Cindy screamed, as she frantically grasped for the phone, "I found him, I found him!!! He found me!! He understands! He understands! Ohmigod, I have to get his number!" Stanley was obviously euphoric, and took the opportunity to escape into the bedroom with a grunt, glaring over his shoulder. Cindy redialed the message and noted the number, an out of town exchange. She listened to the message 4 more times, just to hear his voice. Then she called.

"Hello?" Said the voice. "Eat me." Cindy replied. The voice paused, chuckled, "Are you sure?" he said.

"Yes." Cindy was nearly breathless, the air in the room had become tight and hot around her. Her panties felt small in the crotch. "You're the only one who understands. Eat me. Please..."

The laughter was light, almost kind. "If that's what you really want. Where are you?" Cindy gave her address. "I'm about 30 miles from there, in the country," he replied, "can you drive out?"

Reality struck Cindy like a freight train. she sighed, almost hung up, but couldn't let her go. "What's wrong?" he asked. "I don't drive" said Cindy, "I can't, I'm blind." A sharp intake of breath preceded his next statement: "Excellent! I'll pick you up. Tell me when." He paused. "But understand, this is real. Permanent. For keeps. Is that what you want?"

Cindy was beside herself, not sure if she was going to cry or "cum". "Yes!" she almost screamed into the phone. "Good," he replied, "I like a willing victim. The meat tastes better." He laughed, became instantly serious: "Tell me, is there anyone who might miss you?" Reality dealt Cindy another cruel blow, one she had never considered. "Only my friend, Stanley." she replied, choking back the tears. "Stanley means a lot to you?", he asked gently. "Everything," said Cindy, "he does everything for me. He...he's my seeing eye dog. I'm sorry. I don't think I can leave him."

"Don't worry," said the man, "I'll take Stanley. I have lots of dogs of my own, he'll be happy with me." Cindy's heart skipped in her breast. She thought she was in love, sight unseen, as it were. With Stanley provided for, she was anxious to have her final fantasy fulfilled. "Come for me soon", she said. He promised to be there by nightfall.

As night approached and the cool wind came up, Cindy and Stanley sat together in their home for the last time. "I'll miss you, Stanley, but this is going to be so wonderful" Cindy gushed, stroking Stanley's belly. Stanley scooched around to where he could drool fondly on Cindy's leg. "I hope you like him, Stanley. Do you think he'll be handsome?"

The doorbell rang. They almost knocked each other over to answer it. Cindy opened the door and was shocked when Stanley left his side to greet the man. He could hear Stanley sniffing him and licking his hands. Cindy smelled him also, his scent was hypnotizing to her keen senses, he smelled clean and of the country. Suddenly she was shy and self-conscious.

He spoke first: "Do you want to touch my face?" Cindy sighed and moved towards him gratefully, he seemed to know more than what she wanted, he understood her needs.

She touched him gently. His skin was firm and soft, not overly young. Perhaps he was young, like her. He had a strong chin, high cheekbones, a small straight nose, deep set eyes. He felt pretty. Cindy smiled, and felt him smile back. "You ready?" he asked, touching her face with strong fingers. Cindy was ready for anything, everything, Stanley's tail was beating a wild staccato against the wall. "Sure..." she replied.

The ride seemed shorter than it was, Cindy felt the city drip away as the air gradually exchanged it's urban miasma for the clean scent of the country. They didn't speak. Dogs barked and bayed as they pulled into the long gravel drive, she smelled flowers and fresh mowed grass. He stopped the car and turned to her. "There's still time. You can say no."

Cindy breathed deeply: "I can't say no, I won't. I want this too much." "Good. So do I." he replied, kissing her. Stanley stuck his head between them. "I guess he wants a kiss, too. Come on, you can meet my pack." She tumbled out of the car, laughing and whistling. Cindy heard the click of an electronic gate, and found herself surrounded by dogs a moment later. Christ, did he have dogs! From the ensuing noises, Stanley was apparently awash in a sea of noses and assholes, and he was having trouble staying close to Cindy. Cindy laughed as the man took his hand and led her into the house. "I told you he'd be happy with me..."

The house seemed old and large, Cindy felt the depth of the wood on the floors and sensed tall windows thrown open to the winds and vases of flowers scattered around. The man guided her skillfully to a soft deep leather sofa. Stanley was beside them, still being nosed and pawed to distraction. He sat Cindy down, and took a seat next to her. "Would you like anything before we start? I'm a wonderful cook. But it's too bad... you won't be able to taste my specialty." They laughed together, she felt completely at ease in his presence. Cindy asked for a beverage, he disappeared briefly and returned with glasses of wonderful creamy spiced tea, unlike anything she had ever tasted. He brought a plate of unusual homemade butter cookies also, and they ate in contented silence.

"You ever get high?" he asked. Cindy nodded, thinking that everyone had, in the age she grew up in. "Good", he replied, "then this won't be so strange for you. I just fed you something to get you high, higher than you've ever been in your life. It's going to act quickly. I'm giving Stanley something too." Cindy sat upright and swallowed hard: "Why Stanley?"

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. It's like this, my Uncle Bill taught me a lot about drugs. He's a famous writer, and something of an expert on the esoteric. Everything I am, I owe to him. He introduced me to the people who taught me my special arts. I'm going to show them to you, Cindy, and you're going to see everything. It's a great gift to live through your own death, so to speak. You'll be conscious of it up to the very end, right until we eat your brain. You'll feel it all, every pull, every tug of the teeth at your flesh. Everything except the pain. I've made sure of that, and you'll bless me for it. Stanley will be fine, he's going to help me. "

No longer focussed on his words, the meaning escaped Cindy as she felt her breath coming in sharp gulps, the result of anticipation and excitement. She was beginning to recognize the soft pull of a powerful drug in her guts. She felt her jaw tighten. The rush caught her first in the back of the throat, spreading into her breast and stomach with a wonderful sweet heaviness. She felt afloat, enervated, and aware of every inch of her body in a most unusual way.

He was at her side, taking her arm, she smelled his hair and his breath. "Let's do it" he whispered. She nodded and rose, willing to follow him into hell at that point. Space was strange, she felt taller on her feet, her long beautiful legs felt far away. Her steps had become buoyant and were echoing in her guts. Her joints were elastic. They stopped at a door, she heard the click of an electronic lock and they passed into a place where the air was cool, obviously artificial. "This is my playroom", he explained, "soundproof, climate controlled. It has everything I need." He whistled for the dogs, she heard them enter, she forgot about them. The door hissed shut.

The floor, no longer fine thick old wood but a hard tile, seemed slick and she had trouble walking in her altered state. He held her up, led her to a table and made her lie down. The table was covered in a soft material. She lay there dreamily while he made his preparations. She heard running water, the snick of steel on a strap. He returned to her side and began stroking her hair, running strands between his fingers.

His voice was husky, controlled: "I'm going to shave you first. Completely, from head to toe, and by hand. Feel the razor." He placed a thin cold object into her hands, closing her fingers gently around the blade. She stroked it carefully, awkwardly. "It's an antique, a Wade and Butcher, I've had it for years. Nothing shaves skin closer."

He raised the sides of the table. The air was warmer now, she felt the space she was lying in begin to fill with water. He spoke as he soaped her body down: "I designed this equipment, had it custom made. Even the soap is my own recipe. All natural." Her body, half immersed, was foaming with soapsuds and he let her soak as he began to shave her head. The razor felt smooth and sinister on her skin, and he washed her with a fine spray of water as he went along.

"I've been at this for a long time. Decades, really, since I was very young. Gave it up for many years, because I was disgusted with the more common practices. Feasts turned into screw parties, the victim truly that, a victim. Fucked, sometimes tortured, cooked and eaten. Dead in the cooking process, no pleasure beyond the sex and the kill. No philosophy, no eroticism, no soul to it. And the cooking was ghastly: commercial drugs, depilatories, it gave the meat a terrible taste, and the texture...feh! I once went to a party where they used commercial barbecue sauce! A waste of human flesh." He was shaving her body, moving the razor in a slow rhythm as he reminisced.

"Then Uncle Bill took me to South America, and it changed my life. We lived with a tribe of his friends, Indians. Cannibals. Savages in our culture, and more civilized than most among us. They believed that by eating a man, you too became the man, assimilated him, shared his power. Their ceremonies were an art form. The victim was given a drug, what I gave you. Everyone attending shared the drug also and witnessed the preparations. A priest washed her and shaved her from head to toe. When he finished, he wheeled around, slit her abdomen and began pulling out her intestines. He wrapped himself in them, moaning and writhing like a demon, and jumped on top of her. They screamed together like cats, the guts undulating in his hair like a bloody Medusa. As they climaxed, he cut her guts out and threw them to the dogs. It was the most erotic performance I've ever seen."

Cindy could hardly breathe, her engorged clitoris became very evident, she was aware of nothing but that and his voice. He was calmly shaving her vaginal area while lightly and absentmindedly stroking her labial lips.

He continued unconcernedly: "The best part was next. Still on top of her, he reached again for the knife and split her breastbone. He plunged his hands into her chest, removed her still beating heart and held it aloft, screaming. We were all high, tuned in, we felt what she felt: the submission, the ecstasy. Her heart was cut out, but she was still alive, feeling it all, aware and alert. she was happy. We cooked her then, felt her cook inside of us, shared her roasting, her very essence. When she was cool enough, we tore her flesh from her bones with our hands, our teeth, wallowing in her flesh, eating like animals. We felt ourselves eating, being eaten, it was all one. It was exquisite. It's the way I think it should be done, and it's what I'm going to do to you."

He was done shaving her, she could hear him breathing heavily. Warm water cascaded over her, the table lowered and she heard him undressing. "Now." he whispered, as he floated over her, his face pressed close to hers. She felt his long hair on her breasts, ran her hands over his face, his chest, down his body, coming to rest on his round smooth buttocks as he arched his back and rubbed his turgid member against her. "I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before..." he hissed as he plunged the razor into her abdomen.

She felt the long sharp tug, smelled the coppery tones of the blood, felt her flesh open and begin to spill. His hands tugged her towards him, the smooth expanses of her intestines coiling through his fingers like snakes. He wrapped his member in her bowels, mounted it and began to writhe like a mad priest, stretching a piece of gut up between his legs like the bow of a violin, rubbing it wildly back and forth against the base of his massive, rigid penis.

Cindy was overwhelmed, her hands now on his chest, now his massive, rigid cock, grasping his meatiness through the wetness of her own blood, rolling her guts through her fingers against his skin. She reached up and bit his chest, tasting the warm blood, licking him and biting him like an animal, biting herself in the process, feeling nothing but exquisite pleasure. He began to moan and move against her excitedly, twisting and kneading her body against both their skins in the heat of a crazed passion. Her juices boiled, exploded up out of her loins, her orgasm coinciding with his huge explosive responses.

He fell against her, panting, she could feel him smiling, her hand against his face. "So," he murmured softly, "was it good for you?" Cindy would never have thought that a gutted woman with no heart could laugh so hard, but they rocked together in laughter for a long time. He kissed her, a long exchange of breath and tongues, then she felt the warm spray of water begin again. He sighed and got up. "That was the best I ever had", he stated simply, standing naked next to her, washing her eviscerated body. "I love you," Cindy replied. "I know", he said, "but it's time". He touched her face, stroked her bald head. She now knew him well enough to sense that he was grinning as he said, "You're going to taste WONDERFUL, and that gave me one HUGE appetite."

Cindy grinned too as he towelled her down, inside and out. It was strange to feel a towel wiping her bodily cavities, stranger still to realize that she could think, and was aware of every inch of her skin. Her nipples were still hugely erect and aching with unfulfilled, quivering need. He tweaked them playfully. "Like that?", he queried, "It's my special touch. Wait till later, you'll really appreciate it."

He lowered the sides of the table, now miraculously dry, and wheeled up a cart. "This is the fun part", he quipped, as he shoved an enormous butt plug up her ass. Cindy gasped with newly discovered pleasure. He fitted her with a steel collar, lifting her easily with retractable tools built into the table, and hooked her by the plug and collar into the cooking harness.

Cindy heard jars being opened and tasted exotic sauces in the air. He rubbed her down with fresh lemon juice, she felt the cold bite on her now hyper-sensitive skin. A fine homemade mustard followed as a base, and he began massaging her with oils, pastes, and powders, mixing and layering spices and herbs into a thick coating on her skin. He stuck a finger into her mouth, she sucked it greedily, it was delicious. He stuffed her with onions and sewed up her gaping cavity, trussed her arms and her legs, and tied her head firmly to the pole.

"Now I need help", he said, "this may shock you." Cindy heard a familiar grunt, felt a hot breath in her face, and realized that she was surrounded by BODIES!..She could hear people breathing. "What's going on?" she yelled, panicked by the knowledge that her greatest intimacy had been witnessed, "I thought we were alone, except for the dogs..."

He touched her lightly, so as not to disturb the marinade: "We are alone, except for the dogs." he replied, "You don't understand, those ARE the dogs."

"What the fuck is going on here?" Cindy screamed at the top of her lungs, "Those are people I hear breathing, not dogs!"

"You're wrong," came the patient response in the low voice, "Remember what I told you, that I drugged Stanley too? The people I learned my art from ingest a certain drug to summon and briefly become what they call their spirit animal. If an animal ingests the same drug, that animal becomes it's spirit human. These are my dogs, and your Stanley. They can't speak our language, they only imitate our flesh for a time. They'll be here long enough to help me eat you." Cindy relaxed, and felt a firm hand grip her shoulder. She grasped a hairy wrist and held it tightly, glad that her Stanley had been there all along.

"The oven's hot. You ready?" Cindy nodded, felt herself hoisted into the air, heard a metal door open and encountered a blast of hot air. She heard a sliding mechanism, and was jostled briefly as her steel harness was hooked into the rotisserie. "See you soon, enjoy yourself." he said, touching her on the cheek. "Good-bye, love." Cindy replied, knowing she would never speak again, "Good-bye, Stanley. I love you." She heard a low growl in reply, then the mechanism slid into the depths of the oven and she was engulfed in heat.

It was better than sex, better than anything, turning in that hot hell of an oven, her entire body growing turgid with her own cooked juices. She felt her skin browning, crisping, the surface of her flesh puckering into a tight shell. The sensation was like having total sexual sensitivity in her entire body, the oven like a tight hot pussy surrounding her, caressing her, waiting for her essence to EXPLODE!... She moaned with the pleasure deep within her, unsure if she had lost the capacity for moaning aloud.

The heat rose and fell, she lost her sense of time, engrossed in a dream of ecstatic meat and teeth. A bell sounded somewhere, she didn't know if she heard it or only sensed it by some unknown faculty. The oven door slid open, the mechanism delivered her to the room and she lay cooling on the spit in her own juices. She heard him next to her, in her really, in her head, his voice echoing against her brain. "You smell delicious..." he told her. "Eat me...", she replied, knowing that he heard her, "and enjoy...". "I will, but you have to cool. Give the meat time to re-absorb the juices. I'll be back." He left.

Cindy cooled on the rack, waiting, smelling herself somehow, tasting what she had become. He returned, followed by dogs on their now human feet. They lifted her onto a huge platter, set her down in the middle of the floor. He could hear them sniffing and salivating, licking their lips in old dog habit, anxious for the first bite. She wanted it more than they did, and she wanted it from him. She sought out his mind. "Now." she was ready to swoon, "Please?"

"Of course.", she felt his grinning response..."Remember what I told you about my special touch? This is it, then we all eat." She felt his hands wrap around the meaty base of her left breast, stroking the cooked meat gently. His tongue lightly licked the juices oozing from the wildly sensitive flesh , then his mouth engulfed the rigidly erect tit and the juicy surrounding flesh. He slid his mouth around the creamy roasted breast-meat, pushing and cramming as much flesh as possible into his now frantically grasping mouth... pausing for a moment...jaws painfully full and distended...teeth imbedded deeply with delicious pain... she felt the impossible, the gathering of an orgasm... He stopped and looked into her mind, letting her feel the lust beating in his temples and his demanding teeth. She knew that his dick was immensely erect. He took a deep breath and RIPPED the entire meaty breast from her body in one huge bite. Cindy felt her flesh spasming in his jaws, her brain, their souls.

Not pausing, but ripping and gnawing, tearing with his teeth and fingers, he devoured her breasts in a vicious and greedy attack. He hung onto her labial meat with a manic grip, growling at the others to stay back. They whined pitifully. Half crazed, half sated, he flung himself between her milky thighs , ripping the tendergenital flesh off in his teeth, grasping meat with frenzied fingernails, stuffing the meat into his mouth in an orgy of girlflesh, finally throwing himself onto her face, where he ripped off her lips in his teeth while kissing her. At last he growled his consent to the others, and Cindy was torn to shreds with his clinging to her neck, eating her tongue. Hundreds of teeth, scores of fingers picked at her, she revelled in the pleasure of being chewed, of feeling the flesh leave her. She felt him throughout, he felt her, their minds entwined in the experience of the death so like an orgasm. She was picked clean in a matter of minutes, it seemed, and they dropped gluttonous on the floor surrounding her. He spoke to her for the last time: "Have you ever wondered about the similarities between pleasure and pain, Cindy? I have..." He snapped her head back, clean off of her spine, and dug out her brain. Cindy's mind screamed shut...

Epilogue

Cindy fought her way up through layers of sleep, wondering what kind of half fucked dream she'd been having. Her body felt weird, stiff and awkward. "Christ!" she muttered to herself fuzzily, remembering. "That was some fucking WILD dream I had last night! I feel like I really was eaten alive!" She felt Stanley sleeping next to her, but Stanley felt bigger. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" Cindy queried the powers that be: "One wet dream and I feel like this? I must be getting old." She stretched and opened her eyes. Morning already. The sun was streaming in through a bay window, resting softly on the hair of a smiling man. Cindy smiled back, charmed. She started to say: "You're beautiful, Thomas." but her face wouldn't cooperate and the words stuck in her throat. She wondered how she knew his name.

He looked back at her serenely. "Thank you, Cindy." he replied, "I'm glad you're here. I wanted to be with you if you woke up." It was HIS voice, the man from his dream. Cindy smiled, felt her tongue lolling crazily. Then it hit her. OMIGOD!!! She could SEE him! "Calm down" she told herself, "you're still fucking dreaming, this isn't real!"

"It's OK", the man replied, although Cindy was sure that she hadn't spoken out loud, "This IS real, you're not dreaming, and you're not crazy. You're wide awake, you're in my home, and I'm going to take care of you for the rest of your life."

She looked around her, everything seemed so real, but it looked different, even though she didn't know this place. The sunlight was wrong, she remembered sunlight and it didn't look this way. The world smelled different too, muskier, more complex. She was too panicked to look at herself, half afraid that she might find the flesh stripped from her bones.

Thomas distracted her. "There's something I have to tell you, Cindy. Your dream was real. I drugged and cooked and ate you last night. Can you handle that?" Cindy was staring at him fixedly, entranced and horrified.

He went on. "You know the drug I gave you? Some, just some, mind you, the really strong ones, come through it...to the other side. That's why I wanted to be here when you woke up, I had a feeling that you were one of them. You beat it, Cindy, you beat death...for the time being. It's not going to last, not like this, anyway. You see, as I told you last night, the Indians believe that some part of a victim, the courage, the spirit, lives on in the cannibal who ingests him or her. In that sense, you would have lived on anyway, but you've done something extraordinary: your conscious mind is living on in the one who was closest to you. It won't last. I'll hold you until you go back to sleep, and when you wake up the next time, the conscious Cindy will be gone. You'll still be able to see. What will remain is a part of you, alive forever in your best friend, with me for your master. Ours, for as long as we are. Look down, Cindy. That's not your body. You're Stanley. And I love you both."

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