"That's a very interesting theory, son. Very interesting. I'm not sure it has any merit, but I'l tel you what. Why don't you pursue that. Research it and turn something in to me at the end of the semester. Everyone has to do a paper for his or her final grade anyway and this is what we are here to try and find out this semester: what makes these monsters do it. You convince me of that one and you are guaranteed a 4.0." Joe was encouraged by the fact that Dr. Locke hadn't shot his theory down completely. The man seemed to be honestly intrigued. Perhaps he was on to something after al. But Joe wanted more than a perfect grade. He wanted the professor's help in isolating the serial kil er virus and finding a cure.
Joe sleepwalked through the remainder of his classes that day. His desire had reached a feverish intensity and he was having a hard time concentrating. His head swiveled like a gun turret as students passed in shorts, tank tops, and miniskirts, a buffet of luscious bodies whose every movement was a maddening temptation. He could smel the sweat on their skin, the musk of recent sex between a woman's thighs, the coppery twang of menstrual blood, the acrid bleachlike aroma of semen drying inside them, the humid sweat beading beneath the hairy scrotums of the jocks. The most maddening aroma was that of their youthful spirits. Joe could smel their souls burning beneath their skins like an unseen inferno as furious as a forest fire. He wanted to tear into their flesh to get at it. To devour that energy and make it his.
With effort Joseph Miles wrenched his eyes from the heaving bosom of a passing coed. Joe could almost see the light of her soul swirling like a rainbow and exploding like a nuclear blast. It made him dizzy just looking at it. The scent of it was even more radiant, like fruit and wine and meat and blood al combined into one delirious fragrance.
Life. He wanted to taste it so bad it made his stomach cramp. He was so thirsty for the taste of her blood that his throat felt parched and dry. His saliva felt thick and tacky in his mouth.
A riot of emotions swirled through Joe's mind. It had only been recently that his passions had taken such a morbid turn.
Before it had been enough to fuck anything and everything he could get his hands on. But lately the normal suckand-fuck rituals had begun to bore him. His typical fantasies of multiple sex partners had turned to blood-soaked orgies of torn and ravaged flesh. He could no longer even masturbate without imagining biting into a woman's tender buttocks or engorged breasts. He knew there were places on the Web where he could talk freely about his desires, where they were appreciated. He had sought them out when he first discovered his predilection for the taste of human flesh. He'd been surprised when he'd discovered how many professed cannibals were out there stalking cyberspace for human prey and even more surprised when he discovered that there were women and men who sought these cannibals out, offering their bodies for consumption. Al he could think about now was going online to seek solace in his fel ow perverts.
Chapter Six
There was a cybercafe just off campus where a lot of the students hung out. Joe often went there to surf the cannibal sex sites with the hope of finding others with his unique fetish and perhaps someone with whom he could assuage his hunger.
The Long Pig Message Board was his most frequent stop. "Long pig" was the name given to human flesh because it was said to taste like pork. Joe had never tasted it before except for a few harmless nibbles here and there, but he knew that it wouldn't be long before he indulged himself. The hunger was increasing exponential y with each passing day.
Many of the people on the site claimed to be wil ing cattle. The site was fil ed with flowery romantic fantasies written by these long pigs about feeding the appetite of their dream lovers. Al of them were eager to serve as meat for the hunger of human predators, or so they claimed. Joe wasn't so sure that any of them did anything more than fantasize.
They would post long descriptive appeals for a chef to prepare their flesh to be eaten alive or roasted on a spit and then the supposed cannibals would write them back with lascivious details of just how they would cook and consume them. Sometimes they would swap e-mail addresses, presumably to hook up offline. But since the same "long pigs" would be back the very next day tempting someone new, Joe presumed that it was al bul shit. Occasional y, however, a few of them would disappear and never return. Joe liked to think that those had been the real deal and had final y fulfil ed their fantasies; that they were now digesting in someone's stomach, happy and content, if somewhat diminished.
The only problem with the long pigs available online was that they were almost exclusively male. In fact, he had only seen one female on the message board in the entire time he'd been frequenting it and she had been an obvious fake; getting off on the fantasy of being consumed but too terrified to try it for real. Joe was so worked up today that he didn't care. He began posting long descriptions of how he'd rip apart a long pig with his own blunt little teeth and consume them piece by piece. He could feel someone reading over his shoulder as he typed and hear their gasp of astonishment.
"Oh, my God, that's sick!"
It was the voice of one of the girls from his mythology class. She was the type of bubbly airhead that had probably been a cheerleader in high school and had blown half the male faculty for better grades.
Joe ignored it. Even when the girl brought a couple of friends over to read what he had written and they began to speculate on his sanity, Joe continued to tap away at the keyboard. That was the only problem with the cybercafe. No one minded their goddamned business! Stil, Joe didn't want to go on his roommate's computer during the day. The guy would have a heart attack if he knew the kind of person he was real y living with.
On the message board Joe went under the screen name of SuperPredator and was fairly wel -known. He was a regular. So much so that he had begun to think of himself more and more in terms of his online persona, a voracious ultrapredator at the top of the food chain above even other human beings. He finished his long post and hit SEND. The replies came almost immediately.
A man cal ing himself "Meatforthetable" was the first to respond.
HEY SUPERPREDATOR! YOUR APPETITE SEEMS PRETTY LARGE BUT I THINK I CAN FILL IT. I'M SMALL AND PRETTY LEAN BUT I'M LARGE IN ALL THE RIGHT PLACES. I'VE GOT AN 8" COCK AND A NICE PLUMP REAR LIKE A YOUNG TEENAGED GIRL. COME AND GET ME!
He left his e-mail address at the bottom along with a link to his website where he promised there would be pictures.
Next was the tease. The woman who cal ed herself "SweetFlesh" sent a long sweaty reply that sounded as if she'd written it with one hand.
HEY SUPERPREDATOR! I HAVEN'T HEARD FROM YOU IN A WHILE. I WAS STARTING TO THINK YOU DIDN'T LIKE US ANYMORE. I TELL YOU WHAT BABY, IF YOU'RE REALLY AS HUNGRY FOR LONG PIG AS YOU SAY THEN YOU'D LOVE SOME OF MY SWEET TENDER MEAT. THAT MAN MEAT IS TOO TOUGH FOR A REAL CONNOISSEUR LIKE YOU. YOU NEED SOME OF THIS NICE TENDER GIRL FLESH. I'VE GOT DD BREASTS WITH BIG FAT NIPPLES, WIDE HIPS, AND THICK THIGHS, AND A NICE BIG FAT ASS. IT WOULD TAKE YOU A MONTH TO EAT ALL OF THIS.
She'd obviously forgotten that she'd once sent him a picture of herself and she'd been a petite Filipino woman who, to her credit, did have huge breasts but was far from having voluptuous hips or a
"big fat ass" as she claimed. Joe knew it was al bul shit, but it was getting him violently aroused. He decided to check out Meatfor-thetable's website.
When he clicked the link at the bottom of the message he was surprised to see a familiar face pop up on the screen.
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.