Masters of Taboo Presents: Cannibalism, Digesting The Human Condition (Limited Edition)

by Stephen Biro

  I knew I wanted my cock in her mouth, out of everything sexual that is the one thing I’d always wanted to experience the most. So when I slid my cock out of her pussy, bloody and gleaming. I had managed to get myself up to her mouth, perilously balanced over her shoulders and let her gobble my cock straight into her mouth. Her lips and tongue had worked me until I’d exploded into her mouth and nearly passed out across her body. That had been my first time.

  It had been Annie that had a heart attack about six months after I started caring for her. A heart attack induced by the lashings from my tongue on her glorious soaking wet steaming cunt.

  She loved it when I ate her out, couldn’t get enough of it. Once I’d even managed to perch my body over her massive frame and shove my chocolate covered cock in her mouth as I placed my mouth on her juicy cunt. What a day that was, sucking, fucking and cumming. From there I didn’t turn back.

  There was no time to mourn Annie, I knew I had to find my next job, I had a speciality now and there was nothing stopping me.

  Then I met Emma, beautiful fucken Emma. In her heyday she had been a topless model, I’d seen the photos, she had been enough to make any grown man weep. A career that was cursed with an eating disorder, that finally escalated into full in binging until she had got to a point where she knew she didn’t have the will power to get back so she committed herself to her fatness.

  She had been the one to awaken my desire for fat again. I’d been running a few errands and come home, at this stage Emma was not fully bedridden, she could still manage to get to the bathroom and even to the sitting room on a good day.

  This day I came home and found her on the floor of the bathroom. She’d taken a knife and sliced a hole about two inches wide in her huge stomach and had positioned a vacuum cleaner nozzle into the hole and had just turned it on and was letting it suck.

  The screams were enough to curl the toes of an Inquisitor. Blood curdling screams of agonizing pain as the vacuum droned and sucked and clogged up with fat in the tubing.

  I’d ripped the plug from the hole just as Emma had passed out on the floor and I called the paramedics. Blood was pissing out from her stomach wound so I gingerly removed the vacuum nozzle and placed a towel firmly on the gapping leaking wound and waited. When the paramedics turned up it was a hell of a fight to lift her massive frame into the back of the ambulance and then she was gone and that is the last I ever saw of Emma. She had died due to complications from infection of the wound.

  When the paramedics first took her away, I’d been left with the cleaning up of the bathroom. It looked like a scene from a cheap b grade horror flick. Blood pooling on the tiled floors, watery shit skimming at it edges where her bowels had given out when she had passed out from the pain.

  I scrubbed and scrubbed, cleaning all evidence of that day away and watching it flow down the bathroom sink. I was then left with the vacuum cleaner.

  I had pulled the plug from the wall and sit on the edge of the bath inspecting the carnage of the nozzle. It was completely clogged up with blood and other matter, as I managed to start to clear it out I then realized that the cloggy substance on my fingers was Emma’s fat. Fat harvested from within her stomach from her make shift liposuction.

  My craving for the taste of fat pushed me to put my fingers to my mouth, the smell was like nothing else I had ever encountered and I licked my fingers clean. I extracted every last drop of her fat from the vacuum nozzle and devoured it all, then tossed off from the sheer pleasure of the experience.

  So that brings me where I am today. I’m a Chubby Chaser, an accidental Necrophiliac and a Feeder, I feed and I eat.

  My patients are chubbies with no families or friends. I cannot afford to have anyone get in my way. I care for and feed and nourish and fuck these women until they are bedridden mounds of fat and then I devour them. I suck the very thing that keeps them bedridden from their bodies, their glorious delicious fat.

  Before you even think it, no I don’t use a vacuum cleaner. The internet is a wonderful thing and I’ve managed to procure my own liposuction equipment.

  As I make my first nick with my scalpel and then push the metal rod deep into the fat layers of her body and watch as I move the rod back and forth within her flesh how the glorious crimson tingled with yellow fluid flows freely from the tubes into the jars. The fatty, bloody substance best resembles cold tomato soup with chunks of melted cheese floating in it. I admit it is an acquired taste, the way it sits on your tongue and you have to swallow hard to start the flow going down your throat. Every now and then you will get a bit that needs to be chewed before it is swallowed. Such delicacies should be savored.

  From one bedridden chubby I can get many feeds. If I keep the inch long wounds clean and dry I can continue to feed them and harvest more fat. I’ve become quite an expert, I rarely lose my larder. (A pet name for my chubby.)

  The death of a fatty is never really questioned anyway. As I said earlier they usually depart from a heart attack and the wounds I inflict for my feeding can be masked as bed sores or the other sores that form between unclean sweaty layers of fat. Any amount of fat I drain from one of my chubby ladies is really unnoticeable to the human or professional eye. It is like taking a cup of water from the ocean. I feed and get away with murder.

  Then there is the fatty film left in my mouth after each feeding; it only encourages me on towards my next feeding experience. It is like an encore for my taste buds.

  And though as much as I love to devour the liquid fat from a chubby I have no desire to partake in the eating of her flesh; I am a drinker, a feeder of fat. Yes, I am to some a cannibal as I partake of part of a human being. I wonder if it is the fleshy chewy parts of the fat juice that crosses me into that ‘other’ category.

  THE DIARY

  Stephen Biro & Sutter Cane

  Dear Diary 10/07/10

  It’s been a long time since I wrote in you. I didn’t mean for it to happen this way but it’s what my parents told me to do as well as my psychologist. It’s been years and I am sorry about that. I will try to make it up to you. How many years has it been? Ten, maybe twenty years? I don’t know anymore. I’ve been on drugs for so many years, I can’t tell. I was married at one time, years ago. I think. I really don’t know as its all hazy now. The drugs kept me in a stupor and… I can’t remember to be honest. I knew I was in love, had a good job at one time but felt like a fucking zombie.

  I know this doesn’t make sense to you. I used to write to you when I was younger and you would help me with the voices and help me to understand myself because you would talk to me as a friend and not like someone who looked down on me or judged me. I didn’t like the hospital they put me in after, “The Incident”. It was a total mistake at the time. I thought he was the Devil and wanted my soul, so I fought back and tore off his face with my teeth. I didn’t know it was a homeless person asking for help.

  That’s what they told me afterwards. How was I supposed to know? I was thirteen at the time and he came at me, telling me he was going to rip my soul out of my body and punish me for all eternity. At least that’s what I heard… or thought I heard. I don’t know anymore. All I know is, right now, in this time and place. I’m not sure of anything any longer.

  I stopped taking my meds about a week ago. Anti-psychotics, anti-seizure and anti-depression meds that would give me a dry mouth, trembling my limbs and I couldn’t get a hard-on if my life depended on it. That’s why I am writing to you Diary. You’re my only hope, my friend and you would never judge me and accept me for who I am. For that, I am forever grateful.

  We will talk soon. I live in Government subsidized housing now due to my affliction; food stamps, welfare and Medicaid. I’ve been blessed. I have to take out the trash because… the flies are starting to hatch and I just wanted to watch them grow. Sort of like stealing a butterfly in pupae form and sticking it in a jar, hoping it will become a beautiful butterfly. But the flies lay more eggs than one and my small apartment is riddled with fli
es now.

  The flies make too much noise now. I can almost make out what they say but I can’t. I have to clean up now so I will talk to you later.

  Dear Diary 10/14/10

  It’s been about a week since I last talked to you. I had to have a session with my psychologist and we talked about the usual shit. Demons, angels, my parents, the rape by my father and of course, my bus driver back in the 6th grade. It’s the usual shit I have to deal with when I talk to her. She thinks I am repressing it, hopes the drugs are helping but it never has. Yes, I was married for a while, what society thinks is normal but it wasn’t normal to me. This is normal for me. The voices I hear, telling me to watch TV or rape the neighbor’s kid. I’m more used to this than sitting, pretending everything is alright with my wife.

  The drugs used to make me feel… numb. I couldn’t feel an emotion outside of the side effects of them. I guess I was the perfect husband until reality set in. Then my wife couldn’t stand it. The boring normality of it all, she wanted to do things that I couldn’t give a shit about; concerts, amusement parks, and movies? Fuck, I couldn’t care less to do anything. I was fine, I was numb until the day I forgot my meds. Then the cloak of reality shimmied away and I was left with my personal demons who wanted blood. I shook them away, you know. I thought that what I was doing was right, what my parents and society wanted me to do and I was happy with that. But then she said it. She said the word that was floating in my brain. When she said it, I don’t know if it was a part of a sentence or a diatribe but my mind grasped onto it. She said, “Why?”

  When that word nestled in my brain and took hold. Shattering my existence and everything that I thought society and my family wanted, much less what I thought I was supposed to do in a marriage. I stood up, walked over calmly to my wife and said, “What did you say?”

  She looked at me with fear in her eyes. Total fear and total regret for marrying me; I didn’t even notice I was holding a cheese grater in my hand.

  I knew I had the cheese grater when I began to shred the skin off the side of my face with it but to be honest; it’s something I had to do to show her why and what I was doing with her. I guess marriage can be like that. She screamed and ran away and she never knew that I was doing it for her. She just didn’t understand what true marriage is about. Self-sacrifice and a love, that is willing to hurt themselves to stay by their side.

  So yeah Diary, she left me a couple of years ago. I got back on my meds and life was like an ‘I Love Lucy’ episode - Mind numbing and laughable. That was my life until a week or two ago when I stopped taking my meds. My psychologist doesn’t know, it’s easy to feign side effects and complain about a dry mouth and impotence to her. If I knew it was this easy, I would have done it sooner.

  Dear Diary 10/24/10

  The voices are back with a vengeance. Fuck! It’s hard to even watch TV without screaming at them to leave me alone. One voice is louder than the rest as usual. It screams at me about the flesh and its powers to overcome everything. I try not to think about it but it echoes in my mind. Hah! The flies are starting to make sense to me now. I stopped taking out the garbage a couple of weeks ago. I know I told you I was going to but their language, I can almost understand them now. Well, more than what I could back then.

  They know my first name, I can understand that. I can also understand, “Slave, blood and food.” But I can’t understand the rest. I think I need more of them in my apartment to make total sense of them. I killed my neighbor’s cat and left him in the corner of the living room. Not Mrs. Andersons cat but from the house across the way. From someone I don’t know. Mrs. Anderson asked me over for lunch yesterday but the voices told me not to, so I didn’t. I have to get ready to take a bus for my session with my doctor. Fuck… I don’t even know her name. The only thing I know is she smells like peaches. Bad thing is; I don’t like peaches.

  Dear Diary 11/02/10

  I am sorry for not talking to you for so long. It seems like ages. I feel so much older now. I’m starting to understand what it is I am supposed to do. I’ve seen the doctor twice now, or is it ten times. I don’t know, it all blends together but she has begun to make sense to me now. Talking about personal power and doing what you want and need in life to feel fulfilled. I want to feel fulfilled, I want personal power and it’s making sense now.

  The voice has subsided but the language of the flies is becoming clearer now. I can almost understand what they are really saying. I want to tell you exactly what they are saying but my interpretation could be wrong so I will hold off, until I knew exactly what they are saying. I want to tell you… wait? What did you say?

  Diary, I knew you could talk! I’ve been waiting for this forever! You’re my best friend and…What?

  “You’re right! Getting off of my meds was the best thing I could do!”

  “Yes, I know, the cat in the corner is starting to stink. What? I have enough flies? I should get rid of it for the smell? Neighbors might complain?”

  “But there are a lot of maggots that are going to turn into flies, so I can understand them!

  “What? I don’t want to eat them… but I should? Eating them will give me the power to understand them fully? That’s fucked up! I don’t know how to eat them because they are all over the dead cat! I don’t want to eat fur!”

  “What? That makes sense in a way. Are you sure this is going to help me to understand them?”

  “Fine, I’ll get a tweezers and a bowl… but this shit is going to take ages.”

  Dear Diary 11/4/10

  Wow! What a difference two days make. Not only can I hear you in my head perfectly but I can understand the flies and… hear what my psychologist is really telling me. It all melds into a perfect symphony of understanding! I want to tell you what she said at my last session but too excited.

  “What? You’re right, I have to tell you. The session was too intense and it helped me to find, not only my inner child but explored my ideas and told me, they are facts! Ready, she told me that personal power and understanding of others was held back because, I didn’t and haven’t eaten the flesh of their bodies!”

  “I know… it’s exactly what you were hinting at and exactly what the flies were trying to tell me! I’m exasperated now! Everything, everyone was telling me was finally told to me by someone who knows society! She is court appointed and I’ve been seeing here since, “The Incident” Fuck!!! To eat the flesh of another helps my personal growth, helps me to become more human. My wife would have loved to know this because we would have a happier marriage.”

  “What Diary?”

  Diary, “You need to kill and eat someone you don’t know. It has to be far away.”

  “What, wait, no…Mrs. Anderson is right next door and she’s in a wheelchair.”

  Diary, “No, she is too close to you. You need to take a bus or even hitchhike. One man, picking up a hitchhiker is not going to watch the news nightly.”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know! Fuck! What am I supposed to do?”

  The flies in the apartment begin to get agitated. They begin to swarm and fly around the small living room as they all begin to chatter in, one voice.

  “You needz to find a victim… that wants to die… that lozt their soulz in this world. The power of a soulz that gave up and doezn’t want to be here; is the ztrongezt!”

  “You’re right… all of you are right! If it wasn’t for my psychologist, admitting your theory I wouldn’t believe it. I don’t know how I am going to do this, but I trust you all, yes every single one of you.”

  Dear Diary 11/5/10

  I don’t know how to talk to you anymore. I hear the flies appreciate me more but I think it’s because they are laying eggs on my dinner. I did what you said and I took a bus to Atlanta. It was only a three hour drive but the anticipation had me puking in the bathroom three times. Each time I gagged on my own vomit, all I could see was my dinner’s eyes, popping, out of their head as I strangled them. That was a fantasy. It didn’t go anything like t
hat at all.

  When the bus pulled in, I was ecstatic, in ecstasy because I knew what I had to do… but it happened so fast. The bus pulled into the bus stop and I got out. I didn’t even think that a whore would be waiting for me. But she was. It’s like the flies said, “Go and they will be waiting for you.”

  She was waiting for me. I got off the bus, all starry eyed and began walking when she skipped to my side and asked, “You alone? You need some company? I can help you get some exercise?”

  I didn’t know what to do. I was broke because the bus was so expensive but I looked at her and saw her for what she was. Blood shot eyes, a tremble of drugs taking hold and a desperation of not wanting to be alone. So I said, “Yes, where should we go?”

  She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the closest alleyway. I went with it and followed her as she pulled me into the damp, enclosed space. After turning, behind a dumpster, she jumped on her knees and began tugging onto my pants. I told her no and said I need to kiss her. She pulled up and said that would cost me extra but then she locked lips with me.

  The flies around the dumpster began talking to me. Telling me that what I was doing was good and righteous in their eyes.

  I was taken aback by the kiss but I was so close to her neck that I pulled away and let her kiss my face repeatedly. I turned my head slightly and sunk my teeth towards her carotid artery. My teeth sank in but I actually missed it. I did get a hunk of wonderful flesh and the scream that began to emit out of her, made me balls empty as I came in my pants.

  Her screams sounded like a humming, just like you told me Diary. That’s when I pulled back and that’s when my teeth wrapped around her Adams apple. It was like a perfect, bulbous mouthful that my teeth could totally wrap around and sink into. My jaw muscles ached as the teeth finally met and I yanked free. I don’t remember much after that, just the taste. It tasted exactly like the dead cat in my living room; sweet with a hint of almonds.