Succulent Prey by Wrath James White Read online

  devour huge chunks of the boy's flesh.

  He masturbated to his first climax as

  Hades devoured Mikey's genitals,

  adding his own virgin seed to the bloodsoaked earth.

  Chapter Two

  Ten Years Later ...

  Joe sat in his art class staring at the nude model posing unenthusiastical y

  atop a wooden stool. Her breasts were

  much smal er than what Joe preferred.

  Her hips, ass, and thighs were likewise barely existent. She was proportioned

  very much like a prepubescent girl rather than a grown woman. Not at al the type of woman that normal y roused the

  beast. But something about her was

  getting to him. Her big, vulnerable,

  doelike eyes, the seductive smirk turning up the corners of her thick lips or the up the corners of her thick lips or the way they seemed to be constantly

  puckered as if blowing a kiss.

  Something about her was arousing him.

  And that was just not good.

  Years ago a psychiatrist had suggested

  painting as therapy to help Joe deal with the trauma he'd been through. They

  thought it would be good if the shy young boy learned to express himself

  creatively. Since then Joe had used his art as an outlet for his fantasies, but as his fantasies had begun to twist and

  pervert he'd had to hide his work from

  those who wouldn't understand it. He

  was now beginning to think this art class might not have been a good idea. It was hard to hide your art in a room fil ed with thirty other students.

  Joe's hand trembled as he dragged the

  paintbrush over the canvas. More and

  more red found its way into his palette as he imagined ripping the waifish

  model open and tasting her insides. It

  was just one more sign that he was

  starting to lose control of himself.

  Earlier that day he'd received a cal from his father reminding Joe of how much he was paying for his education and that

  he'd better not be out partying al night and getting shitty grades like he had his first year in col ege.

  "Don't piss away your chance to make something of yourself by going out every night chasing those col ege sluts. There'l be plenty of time to dip your wick in

  those split-tails after you get your

  education. Col ege ain't al about beer bongs and toga parties, boy. Don't fuck this up! I can barely afford to keep you there now. I'd be retired now if it weren't for you-you're the only reason I keep

  working. But you'd rather get drunk and bang every coed slut you see. Young,

  dumb, and ful of cum. You'd better

  control that shit this year, boy! Don't let your grades slip again. You hearin' me, boy?"

  Joe listened halfheartedly. Loans and

  government grants were paying for his

  education; al his dad did was send him spending money. He could easily

  replace that eighty dol ars a week with a job. Even McDonald's paid more than

  that. But something about talking to his father always made the beast hungrier.

  His dad always pissed him off and the

  anger seemed to trigger the lust.

  Joe's hands whipped frantical y back

  and forth across the canvas. His palette was now almost completely red, white,

  tan, and pink. Blood, bone, and flesh. He was painting the model from the inside

  out. He was also panting hard and

  staring at her so intently that she began to shiver as she stared back. Joe could feel eyes on him, in back of him. He

  could hear them gasp at the mayhem on

  his canvas. But he couldn't stop painting. An erection was tenting his pants as he slashed at the canvas with his brush.

  Final y, the model snatched up her

  clothes and ran out of the room,

  breaking the trance Joe had found

  himself in. The room went completely

  quiet. Joe could stil hear his own

  breaths coming hard and fast like a

  steam engine at ful speed. He struggled to get himself under control even as he became aware of the stares of his

  peers-and the professor. She was the

  first to break the silence.

  "Uh ... Joseph? That was a pretty intense session there. Do you mind if we take a look at your canvas?" The professor was another starving waif with no

  appreciable nourishment on her gaunt

  frame. Her skin hung loose against her

  bones as if someone had already

  sucked out al the muscle and fat. The

  bones in her face stuck out prominently and her eyes were sunken back into her

  skul . Her dried nest of blonde and gray hair hung in a tangled mess down to her shoulders and her hands were

  perpetual y stained with paint. She had always reminded Joe of a walking,

  talking skeleton.

  Joe said nothing. He watched stoical y

  as she lifted the canvas from the easel in front of him. The rest of the class was closing in on him, stepping from behind their own easels and crowding in tight to stare over his shoulder at his

  masterpiece. The canvas dripped with

  red. There were gasps al around.

  "This is some very passionate work, Joseph. What inspired you to create

  this?"

  The woman's voice trembled. She'd be

  cal ing his counselor the minute class

  was over. They'd have his ass on a

  psychiatrist's couch by the end of the

  week and once they found out everything else that was in his head they'd stick him in a straitjacket and toss him in a

  padded room. He had to say something

  to dissuade them from thinking he was

  crazy, but he couldn't focus. The proximity of his fel ow students was making his

  mouth water. The air was thick and

  humid with the smel of warm, young

  flesh. He stared from one to the other, not looking at their faces but at breasts squeezed tight into little T-shirts and blouses, nipples pressed against the

  fabric, naked thighs sticking out from

  beneath shorts and skirts, bare arms,

  necks, even the shaved calves at the

  bottom of a pair of Capri pants were

  arousing him. Joe wanted to scream.

  Worse yet, he wanted to attack.

  "I don't know. I-I'm sorry."

  "No, don't be sorry. This is wonderful work. An artist should be passionate.

  Raw bleeding passion is what makes an

  artist and if this is what you have inside of you then you should do quite wel . It reminds me of Francis Bacon." The art teacher smiled at him, laughing at his

  obvious embarrassment. Joe tried not to be insulted by her delight over his

  discomfort but he felt as if he was being patronized, even mocked.

  Joe looked at the canvas again. It did

  look a little like something Francis

  Bacon would have painted. He looked

  back at the art teacher's forced smile

  and now recognized it as little more than an attempt to reassure him. She was not ridiculing him. Not baring her fangs.

  "Thank you," Joe whispered sheepishly.

  "It real y is an intense piece." Despite her praise, Joe could stil hear the nervousness in her voice and smel

  the fear in her perspiration. His nostrils fil ed with the scent of her arousal.

  Luckily she did absolutely nothing for him sexual y.

  His classmates continued to gawk at his work, some praising, some condemning,

  others casting nervous, disgusted

  glances his way. Final y, the model,

  who'd run out of the room, came back.

  Al eyes turned to her as she tiptoed

  back int
o the room with a robe wrapped

  around her and her shoes in her hands.

  The slender woman looked over the

  teacher's shoulder at the canvas with her big, nervous, watery, doe eyes and then at Joseph. She shuddered. An insecure

  smile crept tentatively onto her lips,

  testing the waters before splashing

  across her face.

  "Is this me? Is this how you see me?" Her voice was smal and timid but there was something sultry in it too. Her eyes locked with Joe's as if chal enging him.

  "Yes. That's what I saw." Joe averted his eyes. Ashamed.

  "I like it. It scares me. Nothing's ever real y scared me before."

  "Then you can keep it."

  "What? You can't give this away. At least let me pay you for it."

  "No. It's yours. You inspired it. You should have it."

  The model looked down at the canvas

  again with the angry slashes of red

  ripping through the pinks and tans and

  she shuddered once more.

  "I inspired it?" she whispered, awed.

  "Yes."

  "Then let me take you out to dinner or something to pay for it."

  Joe looked up at her with that

  carnivorous lust stil brimming in his

  eyes.

  "I don't think that would be wise." The girl's mouth opened and then shut

  again. She wandered out of the room

  holding the canvas in front of her at

  arm's length, just staring at it. Everyone else got up and slowly filtered out of the room behind her. Joe quietly gathered

  up his things and left as wel .

  He was so aroused that he almost

  sprinted across campus to get back to

  his dorm room to masturbate. It was late and he was hoping that his roommate

  would be out at one of the bars or

  something so he'd have a few moments

  alone.

  He was barely through the door before

  the phone rang. It was his father again. He was drunk and in the mood to

  confess, to unburden his soul.

  "Look, son, you know I love you, don't you? You're the only good thing in my

  world and I don't want you to turn out like me. That's why I'm so hard on you, boy. I just don't want you to wind up like me. I don't think it's in you anyway real y. You're too soft. Do you know what I am, son?

  I've done terrible things, boy. Real y awful things. Not even your momma knows

  about it. But I think you should know . . . "

  "You're drunk, Dad. Go to sleep." Joe hung up the phone and climbed

  under the covers. He didn't quite feel like masturbating anymore.

  He slept for two hours and when he

  awoke there were three messages on

  his answering machine. They were al

  from his father.

  "Joey? You there boy? I shouldn't be saying al of this on a damned machine. Answer the phone! I've got to tel you

  about that kid Damon, the one who

  attacked you when you were little. Joe, pick up the phone!"

  Joe pressed the button to erase and the next message came on.

  "Look ... that Damon kid ... I knew him. I

  ..

  Joe erased that one too.

  "There were a lot of women ... and kids. I couldn't control myself. It was like ... an addiction."

  Joe hit ERASE and pul ed the phone

  cord out of the wal . He plopped down in front of the computer and opened a

  book to read. It was a zoological text

  cal ed Perfect Predators. Joe smiled as if laughing at some private joke.

  Chapter Three

  There are some cultures that believe you can only know God by examining his

  works. Not by reading a book or

  listening to the superstitious ramblings of some hypocritical child-molesting

  priest, but by watching his movements in nature. It fol owed logical y from there that to know what God wants you must

  look at those creatures who lack the wil to do other than what nature had

  intended of them, those creatures

  programmed by nature to act solely on

  instinct.

  Joe liked to study animals, particularly the predators. It helped him to

  the predators. It helped him to

  understand the natural instincts that

  drove human behavior. Joe had many

  questions about so-cal ed aberrant

  behavior in humans. Could it be that

  what we cal ed aberrant behavior was in fact the natural state of man? Was there an instinct to kil ? An instinct to rob, rape, maim, and destroy? In animals Joe saw

  every act that man had proclaimed

  criminal and sinful performed with

  startling regularity. In nature there was homosexuality, incest, patricide,

  matricide, infanticide, war, robbery, rape, necrophilia, and cannibalism. In

  countless nature documentaries Joe

  watched with interest as baboons

  murdered chimpanzees, ate their own

  young, and stole food from one another. He watched dogs raping their own

  mothers, and lions attacking and kil ing other male lions and murdering and

  cannibalizing their offspring. Joe didn't feel like such a monster when he looked at the behaviors God appeared to favor. God was apparently a lunatic.

  Joe flipped through the pictures of the big jungle cats in his zoology book and felt a stirring kinship. They al enjoyed their positions at the top of their

  respective food chains. Yet man alone

  sat uncontested atop the global food

  chain, the superpredator. There was

  nothing on earth on which man did not

  prey in one way or another, either for

  food, clothing, medicines, hair products, jewelry, good luck charms, or merely for sport. Yet man had no natural

  predatorexcept man himself.

  Joe stared in admiration at a picture of a sleek jaguar pouncing on a gazel e and

  smiled, imagining what it must feel like to take that first bite and taste the flood of warm blood from a lacerated artery fil your mouth. He turned the next page to a photograph of a baboon crushing the

  skul of a smal chimpanzee. The pain

  and terror in the monkey's eyes excited him. He imagined himself as the

  baboon, his jaws clamping down on the

  skul of a young coed, his sharp canines piercing her brain. Joe squirmed

  uncomfortably in his seat as his erection swel ed.

  The hunger in his bel y merged with the hunger in his loins to form something

  dark and murderous, awakening the

  predator coiled in his gut waiting for the scent of prey. He looked at his sleeping roommate across the room, tucked

  beneath the blankets, snoring softly, and his stomach growled at the prospect of

  fresh meat. The monster was ravenous

  tonight.

  Joe turned with effort away from the stil form of his roommate and closed the

  zoology book. He flicked on the PC and

  pul ed the monster out of his shorts,

  taking it firmly in hand. He was sick of studying. It was time for a break. He

  went online and quickly found his favorite website. He clicked on the icon at the

  bottom of the cannibal sex site and

  brought up a page labeled "The

  Preparation of Human Flesh For Human

  Consumption." He began to read as he masturbated in long languid strokes to

  the descriptions of dismemberment and

  cannibalism.

  For the best taste, choose very firm

  breasts with large nipples (half an inch or more in length) that stand up high on a girl's chest. Large breasts (36C to

  40DD) with fat marbled into the meat

/>   make the softest and moistest cuts, so

  easy to chew you can almost eat them

  raw. The breast should be sliced off

  close to the rib bones, thus leaving some muscle under the breast meat. Serve

  sliced thinly cut diagonal y, with or without the nipples intact, in sauce. If she is lactating you can use the milk to create a delicate cream sauce.

  Joe began to salivate. He scrol ed down further on the Web page as he stroked

  himself energetical y, casting an

  occasional glance over at his sleeping

  roommate, hoping the guy wouldn't

  suddenly wake up and interrupt him. It

  would be a shame to have to kil him,

  although now he was certainly in the

  mood for it.

  If the girl is to be cooked alive, she

  should be given several enemas and

  starved for at least 1-2 days prior to

  serving. She should be flushed out

  thoroughly (through both her anus and

  her urethra), al body hair removed

  (except her head hair, if the head is to be used for decoration), and the body

  washed down completely. Before

  starting, a painkil er should be

  administered. A strong alcoholic

  beverage is suggested, as it tends to

  improve the taste of the meat. If you are thinking of marinating the meat in wine then you might consider using that wine as the anesthesia to begin the

  marinating process.

  Once the girl is properly anesthetized, with a very sharp knife careful y open her bel y from just above her vagina to her sternum, not slicing too deep. Unlike

  venison or beef this meat is best served rather gamy, rich with the taste of fear. You want the girl to be alive right up until you cut off the first tender slice of this most choice and delicious meat.

  "Yes!" Joe exclaimed breathlessly, shuddering with ecstasy as he reached

  up to pinch his nipples and slather his palm in saliva. Joe desperately wanted

  to know what the flesh of a living,

  breathing woman tasted like. He wanted

  her to be conscious and aware,

  watching as he tore the meat from her

  bones. He reached back down and took

  his erection in hand again, delighting in the slick feel of his own saliva as he

  jerked on his blood-gorged penis.

  You may decide to leave the uterus intact as this can be stuffed. Rinse out the

  body cavity with clean water, rub the

  inside with butter and herbs. Core out

  the anus and stitch shut. Stuff her bel y if desired with rice or stuffing mix, and sew the incision shut. Weigh her after gutting and stuffing and calculate her cooking