Succulent Prey Read online

  Frank. The same guy he'd earlier been speculating about devouring whole as he spun out yet another tale of sex and abuse at the SAA meeting. It was a nude photo and Frank hadn't been lying. He did have a pretty big cock and an ass that was fatter and rounder than most men, sort of like that of a woman. Joe sent him an instant message and he responded with undisguised enthusiasm.

  HI SUPERPREDATOR!

  HI FRANK.

  Pause.

  DO I KNOW YOU?

  YES. YOU KNOW ME. WOULD YOU

  LIKE TO KNOW ME BETTER?

  YES, BUT I'M SORT OF NEW TO THIS.

  YOU WON'T KILL ME, WILL YOU? I JUST WANT YOU TO BITE ME, TO HURT ME. YOU CAN EVEN BITE OFF A FEW PIECES IF YOU WANT. I JUST DON'T WANT TO DIE.

  I WOULDN'T KILL YOU, FRANK.

  WE'RE OLD FRIENDS. I JUST WANT TO BITE INTO THAT SWEET LITTLE ASS OF YOURS.

  WHO ARE YOU?

  I'M SUPERMAN.

  Chapter Seven

  Joe had set up an apartment down in one of the seedier areas of town, far away from campus. A commercial district fil ed mostly with warehouses and retail stores. It was nearly desolate at night. He had intended it to be his art studio. The tiny room was cluttered with paint and canvas. One or two finished paintings hung on the wal s amid the countless unfinished ones. He'd found it more and more difficult to paint lately. It was supposed to be therapeutic, but letting his imagination roam like that only seemed to make the monster hungrier.

  Luckily, he'd soon found other uses for the old apartment. It was perfect for little clandestine affairs.

  Frank arrived just after midnight, wearing baggy jeans and a tank top.

  Clothes that he could easily slip out of. He smiled wide when Joe answered the door.

  "Oh my God! I was hoping it would be you!" His eyes lit up like an orphan on those rare Christmas mornings when

  Santa Claus did not forget him.

  The smal man with the bruised and battered face and the nervous, desperate eyes of a cornered animal, tiptoed gingerly into the dingy hal way. Joe slammed the door behind him. They both stood in the ancient vestibule eyeing each other greedily.

  "Superman," Frank whispered softly in appreciation, as he looked the big muscular col ege kid over from head to toe. He fel into Joe's arms and tried to kiss him. Joe shoved him back against the wal and pinned him there with one arm.

  "Uh-uh. I'm not that way."

  Frank looked frightened but he was excited.

  "I didn't think you were gay, but then why am I here?"

  "To be eaten."

  Joe produced a smal slim scalpel and

  Frank's breath quickened.

  "You… you said you wouldn't hurt me."

  "No, I said I wouldn't kil you and I won't. But there wil be pain. I'm sure you'l like it, though. Jack off if you want. Get the endorphins going. You'l enjoy the pain once your adrenaline starts racing." Joe unbuckled Frank's jeans and dropped his pants. Frank's cock was hard as granite and glistening with a sheen of precum. Joe wanted to slice it off and eat it but he held himself back. The frightened little man took his eyes off of the scalpel in Joe's hand for a moment and looked at his surroundings.

  The wal s were al cracked, with paint peeling from them in long sheets.

  Everything was covered in cobwebs and dust and the hal ways were al dark.

  There was a reception desk with a shattered mirror in back of it and an overturned chair covered in rust and dust.

  "What is this place? Does anyone actual y live here?"

  "This is nowhere. Now turn around!" Joe commanded.

  The smal man turned to face the wal.

  He leaned his face against the drywal but left his hands free so that he could stroke himself as the man he'd known as SuperPredator online and simply as Joe at the SAA meetings began to cut

  Frank's trembling buttocks. Frank shot a hot stream of semen al over the filthy wal and down onto the cracked tiles at his feet as the huge muscular man sliced off a chunk of his ass.

  Joe was overwhelmed by sensations as he brought the glistening blood-wet meat to his lips and slurped it into his mouth. Just as he'd expected, he could taste the little man's soul as he devoured the smal sliver of life, absorbing a smal piece of him and assimilating it in his stomach, becoming one with the diminutive masochist. He could taste the little man's fear and pain and ecstasy vibrating on his tongue like he'd just licked a coke spoon. He could feel Frank's life marrying with his own, surging through his blood like rocket fuel, and was surprised when he found himself suddenly gripped by his own orgasm as the tender meat slid down his throat. His body jerked and bucked as if having a seizure. Frank looked up at him in awe. He couldn't believe the man was cumming just by tasting him. They both col apsed onto the hard dusty floor, panting heavily.

  "Oh my God! That was incredible!"

  "You should go now, Frank." Joe's breathing was stil heavy, but his voice was cold and hard. He didn't look at

  Frank as he spoke, but rather stared straight ahead into the shadowy lobby.

  "What? You want me to leave? You're not going to fuck me? You don't want another taste?"

  "If you don't leave now, I'l never let you leave. Do you understand? This is the only chance I'm going to give you to save your life. Leave now and never come back here." He was stil not looking at Frank. His body was tense now and his erection had come surging back to life. Frank wanted to take the man's cock down his throat. But something in Joe's voice let him know that staying there any longer, getting the SuperPredator aroused again, would have been a death sentence.

  Frank gathered up his clothes and scampered out into the street, stumbling as he tried to run and step into his pants at the same time. He slid his underwear up over his wounded ass, wincing from the pain, and hopped down the street with one leg in and one leg out of his jeans and the blood saturating his boxer shorts. Joe slammed the door behind him.

  The next day Joe went online again and was instantly assaulted by instant messages from Frank begging for a repeat performance. He logged off and left the cafe. He had to stay away from the Long Pig Message Board for a while. It was easier to cure an addiction when there was no supply. Eating that one slice of flesh from Frank's buttocks had been the most intense sexual experience he'd ever had and he wanted more. Much more. He knew now that whatever was wrong with him was beyond his control and that if he saw the little man again he'd probably murder and eat him. He had to get more serious about finding a cure. There was no way

  SAA could handle this problem.

  After a quick shower, Joe caught the

  BART train back to campus. He kept his head down, trying not to make eye contact with anyone as he made his way across campus to the university library. He was afraid that his eyes would betray his thoughts. There was a smal piece of gristle between his teeth from his recent appetizer. He worked at it with his tongue, trying to worry it free. Each time his tongue brushed the miniscule piece of flesh a fresh tingle went through his loins.

  Chapter Eight

  The library emptied out as even the diehard medical students and political science majors final y returned their dusty old books to the shelves and dragged their tired minds back to their dorms. Joe had heard it said that when you slept your mind let go of al logic and structure, al sanity and order, for the madness of dreams. Joe wanted anything but madness. He was actively trying to fight it off. He was convinced that he was onto something, something that would explain the insatiable hunger roiling within him.

  Joe knew that he was not a monster. Not Joe knew that he was not a monster. Not by choice. Maybe none of the others were either? Not until they were altered by whatever sickness had infected him.

  If it was a disease, not a disease of the mind but a true physical virus that was somehow transmitted from one person to the next, then it could be cured. There might be an antidote.

  Piled before him were three stacks of books four feet high that encompassed nearly two centuries of rape, murder, and superstition. Joe po
ured through the tal stacks until the moon had traveled from one side of the sky to the other. He knew that the librarian must have been dying of curiosity. She had seen him there every night for over a month scouring through books on serial murder, vampirism, and lycanthropy, doing computer searches on war criminals and mob mentality, sexual fetishes, and cannibalism. He knew that she must have been curious to know what it was he was working on, but she had only asked him once and when he hadn't replied, she'd had the good sense to avoid further inquiry. It was a good thing too. She had just the sort of ass he liked, plump but firm.

  More than once, Joe had masturbated sitting right there in that library, imagining tearing into her voluptuous buttocks with his teeth and devouring the tender flesh in huge gulps. He'd hid his frantic hand movements behind an unabridged dictionary and sprayed his semen from neurosurgery to nightingale. Then he'd left quickly, sure that she had noticed. When he returned the next day she smiled politely and gave no indication that she was aware of having been the star of his gruesome masturbatory fantasies.

  Just last week he'd even painted her portrait. He'd composed several sketches of her, stealing glances at her generous buttocks as she scuttled back and forth between the rows of dusty books. When he'd gotten home that night he'd let out his pent-up sexual energies onto the canvas. He'd masturbated several times as his passion boiled over and his paintbrush whipped across the canvas in violent slashes of reds, whites, and beiges, mixing his own blood and semen into the paint. When he was done he'd hidden the portrait away in his little apartment across town along with al the others. Anyone seeing it would have immediately recognized his obsession.

  Even in the abstract she looked like meat.

  It was past three o'clock in the morning when Joe's eyelids would no longer remain aloft and his head came crashing down into the middle of Colin Wilson's

  Criminal History of Mankind with a thud that echoed loudly throughout the empty room.

  "Okay, you. Time to let the monsters rest for a night. Go home and get some sleep now."

  Joe nodded and rose from the table where he sat behind a mountain of books. He eyed the pleasantly plump librarian's large breasts with interest and saw her shudder beneath the heat of his gaze and cross her arms over her breasts as if to protect them from more than just his eyes. Embarrassed, Joe gathered up a few books to check out and stumbled toward the desk. He had an erection bulging in his pants and he'd seen her eyes zero in on it before he could cover it with a hardbound copy of 120 Days of Sodom.

  The librarian walked behind him, not wanting to feel his voracious eyes crawling over her ass, as Joe staggered toward the front desk. Not that she had a particularly nice one in her opinion. It was far too large and her hips were too wide. And not that she thought herself particularly attractive. Emma Purcel hadn't felt attractive since she'd turned forty and her breasts had drooped and her ass had spread, but something about the way Joe stared at her made her fear that he might rape her or worse. She didn't know what it was but she preferred to have him in clear view at al times.

  Maybe she was just reacting to the fact that the man had slowly worked his way through every book on deviant sexuality and serial murder in the entire library and was now apparently branching out into monsters and werewolves.

  When he checked out his morbid little books and left, she sighed audibly and crossed herself, asking God to forgive her for the moistness spreading between her thighs at the thought of what such a powerful young man could do to her.

  Joe walked down the steps and out the front door of the library into a waiting cab. He stuffed the armload of books onto the backseat then jumped in and directed the driver back toward the dorm.

  The temptation to cruise through the

  Tenderloin for street prostitutes was overpowering and it took a supreme act of wil to tel the driver to turn right on Sixth Street instead of left, but Joe knew that there would be nothing up there to stop him from indulging his appetites. It would be like a morbidly obese woman trying to diet at Baskin Robbins. Where he was going was more like the supermarket. At least there would be somewhat healthier choices available even if he were not inclined to make them.

  He pul ed up in the crowded parking lot and looked around to make sure he didn't recognize any of the cars. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted by one of the other students or worse yet a faculty member. There was no way of being sure. He obviously didn't know everyone at the university but at least he didn't see any cars belonging to anyone in his immediate acquaintance.

  Joe listened to the crunchy sound of the gravel crackling beneath his feet as he walked across the parking lot. He sniffed the night air and tried to pick out the smel s of sex from the pungent stench of urine, exhaust fumes, cigarettes, and alcohol. He tried to hear the pants and moans above the sound of techno dance music emanating from the smal storefront. He was losing himself. In his anxiousness to get inside the club he'd left his library books back in the taxi. He'd have to try to track them down in the morning. But for now, the hunger was ful y upon him, demanding his absolute attention.

  Joe flashed his ID and paid his twenty bucks. He reached down and readjusted his cock, which had swel ed until it pressed painful y against the coarse fabric of his jeans and rubbed against his zipper. The monster was awake.

  He stripped off his shirt and unbuckled his pants, freeing the raging monster from its prison of denim. After handing his clothes to the topless coat-check girl with the pierced nipples who was so skinny you could see rib bone through her chest, the massive sophomore began to make his rounds through the club. Almost immediately he spotted a woman who seemed plucked from his darkest fantasies. He knew that he was going to do something bad tonight.

  She was absolute perfection, a tal voluptuous Spanish beauty with long flowing hair that hung down to her ample waistline. She had catlike almond eyes, ful rose-colored lips, and cinnamon tan skin like some delicate pastry. None of these attributes were what caught his eye, though. She had thick hips and thighs and a deliciously plump and luscious posterior that jiggled as she walked, awakening the monster's hunger with each step she took. It was more beautiful than water to a dehydrated desert traveler. Joe swal owed again and again as he began to salivate uncontrol ably.

  Joe had seen her there before. Usual y she was with some queer boy or another and once she came in arm in arm with a six-foot lesbian. She was an absolute fag-hag but he knew that she was not gay herself. Though he'd seen her tonguing that Amazon's clit in one of the orgy rooms, he'd also seen her in a threesome with two jocks he recognized from col ege. He'd masturbated in a corner by himself watching the two basketbal players lubricate their latexsheathed erections and fuck her in one hole after another as she moaned and quivered in ecstasy, looking as if she was in heaven. He watched as they both climaxed and then left her just short of her own orgasm, laughing and highfiving as she cursed at them. They dressed and left, stil chuckling over their own good fortune. He'd fol owed her out to the curb and watched as she angrily fought against the tears threatening to spil from her eyes, final y losing after a valiant struggle. Joe had wanted to go to her then, but something had held him back. The hunger was not as strong then and she hadn't seemed like prey. She'd seemed like someone that he could have fal en in love with. A whore with a heart of gold.

  Now, as she strode past him, Joe watched the seductive sway of that exorbitant ass as if in a trance. His lust was at a fever pitch and even the memory of her heartbreaking tears seemed to fuel his desire. He felt the hunger surge within him, driving steel through his loins. Her ass was perfect, the most beautiful, sumptuous buttocks he had ever beheld. His salivary glands went into overdrive and Joe wiped the drool from his mouth repeatedly as he stalked her through the sex club, that ass drawing him irresistibly toward it.

  The club was cal ed The Backdoor and it seemed the perfect setting for a woman with an ass that looked like God had shed a teardrop that slid down her back, nestled just above her thighs, and became flesh. This was t
he place where couples came to put spice back into their marriages by swapping mates or picking up a spare for a threesome.

  Singles came here looking to be a part of a menage a trois or a random orgy. It was rare that two singles met in a place like this. But Joe was not interested in having to suck off some dude just to get some quality time with his wife, not when he could get exactly what he wanted out of this voluptuous princess.

  Some might have cal ed her overweight, those woman-hating faggots in the fashion industry for instance, whose standard of beauty is based upon the breastless, hipless, thighless, assless physiques of prepubescent boys. They had no appreciation at al for true femininity. For them womanhood was something to be suppressed, strapped down, starved away, and hidden beneath layers of clothing and shame. It was obvious that this woman was having none of this. She was proud of the gifts nature had imbued her with. It showed in the fit of her clothing, the tilt of her head, and the swish of her hips. To Joe she was the very essence of sensuality, her every curve dramatical y enhanced, her sexuality exaggerated to pornographic proportions. Her ass looked as if someone had taken two beach bal s and shoved them down the back of her jeans. Perfectly round and absolutely enormous! Joe was transfixed by it.

  It jiggled and bounced maddeningly, wobbling high on her lower back as if it were waving to him. He wanted her so bad that it hurt. He could see the radiance of her wild spirit shimmering in her sinews, in her skin, fat, and muscle. He could smel it scorching the air. Her flesh was alive with the energy of life. Joe smirked as he thought about al those misguided spiritualists and religious zealots who mistakenly believed that the soul was some separate entity imprisoned in human flesh. But he knew better. Spirit is flesh. Inseparable and indivisible. He had tasted it himself. He reached down and began stroking himself as he fol owed her from room to room.

  Al around couples, threesomes, foursomes, and more, fucked, sucked, spanked, and masturbated with what seemed an overabundance of energy.