WARNING: This story contains material and themes that some may find disturbing
or triggering. You have been warned.

      Pleasures of the Flesh

You never forget where you were and what you were doing when you first 
realize who you really are. As a kid you attempt to be various things, you 
try on different identities, but eventually you realize who you really, 
truly, unavoidably are, and who you quite simply must be, no matter what. 
I'll never forget when I first realized what I really wanted.

The first time I realized I wanted it was when I first saw her eyes. Suddenly 
I understood, viscerally, every stupid poem I had ever read. I wanted to 
stare into her eyes forever. I wanted to marvel at their blueness. I wanted 
to admire their milky white edges. I wanted to see the veins and blood 
vessels change when she got tired, or cried.

I wanted to lick her flesh. 

I wanted to take her perfect, beautiful, sky-blue eyes and roll them around 
on my tongue. I wanted to feel my teeth removing, gently, sweetly, her skin 
and viscera from her skeleton. And I wanted to feel the warm blood cool on my 
tongue, lips, and skin as the air hungrily sapped the fluid of its warmth, 
its heat, its life force, its energy.

The desire--the need to do this--bothered me less than it perhaps should have.

After a while, the desperate, pent-up need to consume her became so great 
that I had to do something about it. I found a butcher's shop nearby and had 
him cut me a decently large and heavy pig's leg. It was thick, meaty, and 
plump a the top, and was obviously from an animal. It annoyed me how clean 
the cut was from the rest of the body. It was as though no tearing or ripping 
of the flesh had taken place at all; just a clean slice, through bone and all.

I got the meat home and put it in the microwave, whole, for a short amount of 
time. Just enough to warm it. The minutes I had specified were eternal. 
Finally, as my lustful anticipation built, the microwave mercifully beeped. 
Unable to contain my pent up need any longer, I threw open the microwave 
door, tore the covering with an old steak knife, and sank my teeth into the 
warm skin and flesh. Blood covered my face. My teeth sank deeper and deeper 
into the warm, smooth, moist muscle tissue of the pork. It was as though a 
tension that had been building was, at long last, released, and I felt as 
though I would yet be able to continue on living a while longer. I pulled my 
head back, ripping flesh and skin from tendon and bone and spat out the 
mouthful before returning for another bite.

When I had reduced the hunk of pork to bone and chewed piles of fleshy mush, 
I dropped the bone with a dull clunk onto the counter top. I leaned back 
onto the counter, next to the bloody mess, and lit a cigarette. The 
satisfaction was unspeakably perfect.

---

Three days later, that animal need had returned again. Not just for her, with 
her firm athletic legs and sky-blue eyes, but for others as well. Nearly 
every female I saw fed my hunger. Each passing day, the need grew. The 
desperation became more intense. As I continued to rip apart warmed animal 
meats with my teeth, in an attempt to sate my strange lust, it became less 
satisfying.

Eventually, I couldn't contain myself any longer. I needed the real thing, 
and I didn't care the cost.

I had begun to befriend my first target, a young girl who worked at the 
convenience store until 11:00 PM every night. Her skin, every visible inch 
of it--from her ankles to her legs and thighs, to her midriff that 
occasionally showed when she moved a certain way, to the smooth skin of her 
shoulders and collar bones, to the supple white skin of her neck and the 
pure, gentle femininity of her slight hint of cleavage--was perfect. Her 
teeth, visible when she laughed or smiled, were moist and glistening.

Eventually, I got comfortable enough to ask if she wanted to come over for 
dinner. I was a chef, I assured her, and I would make her a home-cooked meal.
Plus, I had all the video games she could play, I jokingly added.

She giggled, "I love video games! I think I'll take you up on that." She 
winked at me and smiled. She truly was a friendly and beautiful person. 

What a shame.

I came by to walk her to my house that night at eleven. The journey was 
slightly awkward, but cordial. She seemed to like me, which was something of 
a new experience, and I made sure to enhance that feeling in her however I 
could, playing every game I knew to increase her trust of me.

When we got to my apartment, I set her up on the TV to play a shooter game, 
and she thanked me. I got us drinks, slipping the requisite dissolving tablet
into hers, and within an hour she was looking drowsy.

"I think..." she slurred groggily, "that you and I should slip into the 
bedroom." She attempted to look seductive, but burst out laughing at herself.
"Wow, I drank that way too fast. When is dinner coming, Mr. Chef? I should 
probably eat something before drinking any more."

I was so close. I could feel it. I couldn't contain it much longer. I needed 
her.

I sat down next to her and began to kiss her neck. She moaned and quickly 
paused the game before tossing the controller to one side. As she embraced 
me, the drug took full effect, and she went fully limp, flopping onto the 
couch. I followed her body down along its toppling path. When her head hit 
the cushion, I sank my teeth desperately into her jugular.

Suddenly I understood why vampires would target the neck. There is a gallon 
and a half of blood in the average human body, and much of it goes through 
the jugular vein at very high pressure. This is a fact you cannot truly 
appreciate until you have experienced it first hand.

The feeling of release was immense. As I tore her beautiful, pure, pale skin 
from her body, the blood continued to flow. I ripped flesh from muscle, 
muscle from bone. Every bite was ecstasy. The warm, metallic taste of real, 
raw human flesh.