Brad stroked his dick as he looked at Jody. He was in awe of the man who lay unconscious on his big wooden table. This was the big prize. Never before had he lured such a specimen into his home. A huge slab of meat, a feast for the ages. Or, at least, for Brad and, later, for Lester. Jody was only 19, but he was 6’10” and 290 pounds. Solid, muscular, smooth soft creamy white skin. Very handsome, cute really, with thick brown hair. Solid bubble butt surrounding a tight pink, puckered hole. His cock and balls matched the size of the body: 9 inches soft and thicker than a cucumber. (Brad had watched it swell even larger before the drugs put Jody down.) A pair of huevos big enough to choke on. All this would thrill Lester. All this would be Lester’s. But not yet. First, Brad would take the prize he lusted after: Jody’s size 25 feet.
Brad and Lester were a team of sorts. Brad’s looks and personality lured beautiful men into his lair. Brad got first dibs, and those dibs were always feet. All of Brad’s sexual cravings centered around men’s feet. Oh, occasionally, he might turn his attention to some other part of his victim, but not often. Feet. His obsession. The rest went to Lester. When Brad was done with the man, he called Lester, who came and took the victim away. Dead or still alive, with or without the feet still attached, Lester took the victim away. What he did with it, Brad didn’t really know, or care. He took what he desired. Feet.
Jody’s enormous feet posed a real dilemma. Here was something so rare, so delectable, a once-in-a-lifetime treat. How could Brad maximize his pleasure? First, he followed a ritual that never varied. With pruning clippers, he snipped off the small toe from the left foot and popped it into his mouth. Tucked between his gum and cheek, it would comfortably remain there for hours, like a chaw of tobacco. Brad put his mouth over the fresh wound and sucked. Sweet blood. Salty, manly blood. After a few minutes, the flow stopped.
Jody lay on the wooden bench, unbound. He had enough drugs in him to ensure that he would not wake up but, considering his size, Brad wanted to be doubly sure. He tied off the huge biceps and injected more drugs into the boy’s arm. When the syringe was withdrawn, a trickle of blood ran down onto the table, to soak into the wood, mixing with the blood of other men, drying to a beautiful dark patina. Brad stared at the huge vein in the crook of Jody’s arm. Feeling a surge in his dick, he put his mouth to the vein and bit into flesh, fantasizing that his vampire teeth penetrated and that he was sucking the boy’s red juice.
Back to reality. He pushed Jody off the table. A loud thud as 290 pounds hit the wooden plank floor. Heavy chains wrapped thick wrists. The body was hoisted until the feet were slightly off the floor. In early adolescence, Brad had lain awake at night, ponding his meat as he fantasied being stomped and kicked by naked men. Now, with his chains and pullies, he could act out his dreams. Brad laid on the floor, lifted one of Jody’s feet and set it on his face. The other, he set on his neck. He lay perfectly still, feeling the weight of warm soles pressing on his mouth, his nose, his Adam’s apple. His dick stood upright, quivering with passion, as the naked giant loomed above, in fantasy, crushing his head, grinding his face, choking him with those enormous feet. There was potential danger in this phase of the ritual. If any of his victims came off the drug at this point, he could stomp his throat and kill him. But this danger was itself an exciting turn-on and kept Brad’s cock trembling.
Using the pulley rope hanging next to him, Brad raised Jody so his feet were about ten inches above him. Then he let the body drop. Jody’s huge feet dropped heavily onto Brad’s face and throat. This was the stomping fantasy that Brad played out with all his victims. Always extremely erotic. But he had never before felt almost three hundred pounds drop on his face and the weight almost broke his nose. As it was, the nose was bloodied and his Adam’s apple nearly crushed. Brad rolled out from under the feet and gasped. He cursed himself for being so stupid, for not accounting for Jody’s weight. On his knees, he choked and tried to get his breath and throat back to normal, while holding his hand over his nose, trying to stop the bleeding. After a few minutes, he had calmed down. He looked up and saw Jody’s body hanging above, his head drooping to the side, eyes closed, and mouth agape. Looked so innocent. Brad lowered him until their faces met, and then punched the unconscious boy in the nose. “Fuck you! We’re even.” Brad watched blood dribble to Jody’s mouth, then off his chin onto his smooth pecs before running down the belly into his pubes. He smiled and kissed the boy’s lips, savoring the taste of his blood.
Brad pulled Jody up and positioned himself under the feet again. But this time, they would drop onto his belly. Many times, Jody’s weight came down hard on the belly and, even though Brad tensed his gut, it began to hurt. As pain shot through his gut, his cock exploded. Jizz shot high into the air and splattered back onto chest and face. Again. And again. He was cuming like a teenager. Then, totally spent, he rolled from under the weight, turned on his side, grabbed one foot close, kissed it over and over, and fell asleep with his lips on the arch.
In time, Brad awoke. Time to move on to the next game: kicking. Jody still hung from his wrists. The nose had stopped bleeding, but his chest and belly were covered with streaks of dried blood. Brad rigged his pullies so the he could pull Jody back by the waist, then let the body swing forward but be jerked to a halt. The waist would stop, but the legs and feet would continue until they smashed into Brad’s chest as he kneeled naked before the huge boy. Usually, Brad let the feet smack him in the face. He might wear goggles to keep from getting a toe in the eye, but he enjoyed the sensation of being kicked in the face. Plus, toenails often cut his face. But he wasn’t taking any chance with this guy. And just as well. When Jody’s feet crashed into Brad’s chest, the force knocked him so far backwards that he cracked his head against a chair. Feeling blood in his hair, Brad knew he was dealing with totally new phenomenon. Still, Brad let the gigantic feet smash into his body over and over, pummeling his naked body, loving every blow. And each blow furthered his fantasy that this huge, naked Paul Bunyan was kicking the shit out of him. He stood and let Jody kick him in his gut, the ultimate gut punch. His already tender abs absorbed so many kicks that he simply slumped to the floor in pain. Serious but glorious pain. And, in the end, his passion overwhelmed him and he let Jody kick him in the face. The force knocked him over and almost out. His head rang, he was woozy and unsteady. A sharp toenail had cut deep into his cheek. Aroused even more now, he set two sawhorses behind him and took a second blow to the face that knocked him over the horses and onto his head. He lost consciousness and missed feeling his cock jerk and spurt.
Eventually, Brad pulled himself up. He had spent hours being stomped and kicked by these two great feet. He suffered dark bruises, and bleeding cuts from sharp toenails. His nose was bloodied. His head hurt. His upper body ached terribly. Jody had inflicted serious abuse on his body, but Brad was fulfilled, invigorated, hungry for more. Yes, hungry. That was it. Hungry.
With the pulley and chains, he maneuvered Jody back onto the wooden bench. He secured the boy with a chain around his neck and nailed his palms to the bench. (Could have used chains, but what the fuck, nails are always fun!) He sniffed the left foot, the one who’s toe was still nestled in Brad’s mouth. It still stank of the strenuous, sockless workout Jody had done just before coming here. Brad picked up a sneaker, shoved his nose deep inside, and inhaled deeply. Ahhhhhhh! He felt a surge in his groin as the gamy stench entered his nostrils. For several minutes, he breathed deeply, savoring the stink. He cut off the sneaker cloth, turned it inside out, and sucked to taste Jody’s foot raunch. He licked at the inside of the sole, his tongue absorbing the rancid taste of a young male athlete. He did the same with Jody’s other sneaker, desperate for the boy’s taste and aroma.
Brad turned to the body on the bench and those huge, beautiful feet. He sucked every toe, slowly, deliberately, passionately. Between the toes, he licked at lint and scuzz. Then his tongue felt it, scaly skin between two toes. Athlete’s foot! Just the one spot, but it was enough! Brad ran his tongue between those two toes, lapping at the the scales, wishing there was more. He noticed a blister under the big toe. He bit into it and sucked the juice out. Mmmmm! So sweet and salty! And pulled all the blister skin off with his teeth and chewed on it a while. He examined the feet closely. Smooth, fresh, young. Few blemishes. That was a plus. But blisters and fungus and scaly dead skin would also have been a plus. And so very tasty.
With a nail, Brad scraped toe jam from under the toenails. Mmmmm. Nasty, musky, but thick and delicious. He saw the big toenail on the left foot was covered with a fungus. He wedged a screw driver under the nail until it pulled away from the toe. Then, with his teeth, he yanked it off. Jody’s body jerked reflexively, but nothing more. Brad rolled the fungal nail around in his mouth. Exquisite! He began to chew. The nail was hard and thick, difficult to chew, but Brad kept at it until it finally was nothing more than masticated fungal mush, and he swallowed. A piece of the nail was stuck between his teeth and he couldn’t dislodge it. Irritating, but he ignored it and wrapped his mouth around the naked toe. Christ! This toe was bigger than most of the cocks that had fucked his mouth! And tastier, too. There was a small amount of blood. His teeth scraped at the newly exposed skin. Tender, soft, never before exposed to air, and a bit stinky due to the fungus. Brad’s teeth chewed and scraped, rubbing the tender skin raw and bloody. His mouth sucked up loose tissue and fungus and blood. Brad’s dick was bobbing up and down again. Jody’s dick lay soft and flaccid on his groin.
Brad finally made the decision. He would kill Jody now. Sometimes, he worked on feet while the victim was alive. The sound of screams was sooooo fucking erotic. So, too, was the blood. If he chopped or sawed a living foot, blood would spurt and flow like a river, covering Brad and the man and the table. Runny at first, it would quickly begin its coagulation, forming sticky, sweet-tasting puddles for Brad to sip at as he played with a set of bloody feet. All this was great fun. But today, with the most erotic feet he had ever encountered, Brad elected to keep it clean.
He ran his hands and tongue over Jody’s smooth, young skin. Tasted his crotch sweat Licked his jock itch. Ran his tongue between his butt cheeks and into the tight hole, sniffing, tasting the luscious remnants of Jody’s last shit. Wonderfully foul and rank. He licked all the dried blood from the chest and belly. Soon, he was sitting on the giant’s belly, looking down on the handsome face. Peaceful, angelic, innocent, breathing softly. He bent and licked at the prominent Adam’s apple before he put his hands around the thick neck. But he didn’t squeeze. No, the neck was too large for his hands to adequately strangle the boy. He reached for his baseball bat and laid it across Jody’s throat. He leaned his weight on both ends of the bat and watched as it pressed into the Adam’s apple. As he pressed, Brad put his mouth on Jody’s. The room was quiet as the ritual played out. Brad heard a sort of guttural sound coming from the throat. Felt a short gush of air entering into his own mouth. He was determined to inhale every breath the boy exhaled. He saw the face tense up and begin to turn a bluish color. Jody’s eyes popped open. A look of fear? Was he conscious? The head pulled at the chain around the neck. Beneath his body, Brad felt the boy’s hands pull at the nails. But Brad continued to press the bat into the throat, closing the wind pipe, removing life. A gurgling sound, the death rattle. Another short gush of air escaped the partially open mouth, only to be sucked deep into Brad’s lungs, the final breath. Brad’s hips humped the naked, dead body beneath him. Eventually exhausted, he slumped and fell asleep.
Brad lifted himself off Jody, their bellies sticky from drying cum. He set a block of wood under the left ankle, allowing the foot to hang free just above the table. He pried the remaining nails off the toes, and then snipped each toe from the foot. The nails and toes he set on a white plate. He had swallowed the first toe during his frenzied humping of the corpse, so he popped another toe into his mouth. He chewed happily as he turned his attention to the best part of the foot: sole meat. Using an extremely sharp paring knife, Brad expertly sliced wafer-thin pieces of Jody’s heel. These he laid out like prosciutto on another white plate. There was very little blood on the meat and what little there was, Brad licked off. The meat was clean, pink, like cold cuts. He continued slicing, from the soft underside of each toe, and from the balls of the foot. He carefully carved the arch, producing long thin strips of pink flesh. He set all the pieces on a large pewter platter, tastefully arranged in the manner of a charcuterie plate from a high-end butcher. The platter was covered with plastic wrap and put in his refrigerator, to be consumed tomorrow as he watched a Premier League match. With the best meat removed, Brad picked up his 22” stainless steel butcher saw and began to saw the ankle, about three inches above the ankle bones. The professional saw easily cut through tibia and fibula and skin, and Jody’s foot dropped onto the table. Brad sucked at the severed leg to get whatever blood might seep out. Then, like a carved chicken carcass, the foot went into a large pot of water, to be simmered slowly and used for a broth.
Now Brad turned to the remaining foot. He set the block under the ankle and sawed it off. An electric saw would be quicker, but he enjoyed the feel and the sound as the blade slid back and forward, grinding and cutting bone. Human bone. Jody’s bone. Made the task seem more personal. After Jody’s foot dropped onto the table, he turned to a cabinet and removed three syringes. He filled them with a cocktail of cocaine and LSD. Two stayed on the bench, ready to inject whenever Brad needed another jolt. Brad slid the needle into his arm, pressed the liquid into his bloodstream, dimmed the lights, grabbed the loose foot, and took his aching body to a dark, filthy corner, strewn with bones and pieces of rotted flesh. He squatted naked on the floor and, as the drugs surged through his body and brain, began to gnaw the severed foot. The magnificent foot. The prized foot. The gigantic foot. The precious foot. The foot of his dreams and fantasies. For hours, from that dark, dank, fetid corner came the guttural growls and grunts and groans of a wild animal devouring its prey. It was not an easy task for human teeth to tear the tough flesh on that foot. But Brad would not be denied this unparalleled pleasure. Skin, bone, nails, meat, blood…nothing was denied to his animal lust, his hunger for human meat, Jody’s meat. He gnawed, chewed, ripped, sucked, wanked, drooled. Hours later, his spaced-out brain abuzz with hallucinogenic images, still chewing on bones long since picked clean of flesh, bones falling to the floor of his rancid corner, Brad belched. A long belch. A loud belch. A belch of supreme ecstasy and pure pleasure. He had experienced Paradise.
Brad and Lester were a team of sorts. Brad’s looks and personality lured beautiful men into his lair. Brad got first dibs, and those dibs were always feet. All of Brad’s sexual cravings centered around men’s feet. Oh, occasionally, he might turn his attention to some other part of his victim, but not often. Feet. His obsession. The rest went to Lester. When Brad was done with the man, he called Lester, who came and took the victim away. Dead or still alive, with or without the feet still attached, Lester took the victim away. What he did with it, Brad didn’t really know, or care. He took what he desired. Feet.
Jody’s enormous feet posed a real dilemma. Here was something so rare, so delectable, a once-in-a-lifetime treat. How could Brad maximize his pleasure? First, he followed a ritual that never varied. With pruning clippers, he snipped off the small toe from the left foot and popped it into his mouth. Tucked between his gum and cheek, it would comfortably remain there for hours, like a chaw of tobacco. Brad put his mouth over the fresh wound and sucked. Sweet blood. Salty, manly blood. After a few minutes, the flow stopped.
Jody lay on the wooden bench, unbound. He had enough drugs in him to ensure that he would not wake up but, considering his size, Brad wanted to be doubly sure. He tied off the huge biceps and injected more drugs into the boy’s arm. When the syringe was withdrawn, a trickle of blood ran down onto the table, to soak into the wood, mixing with the blood of other men, drying to a beautiful dark patina. Brad stared at the huge vein in the crook of Jody’s arm. Feeling a surge in his dick, he put his mouth to the vein and bit into flesh, fantasizing that his vampire teeth penetrated and that he was sucking the boy’s red juice.
Back to reality. He pushed Jody off the table. A loud thud as 290 pounds hit the wooden plank floor. Heavy chains wrapped thick wrists. The body was hoisted until the feet were slightly off the floor. In early adolescence, Brad had lain awake at night, ponding his meat as he fantasied being stomped and kicked by naked men. Now, with his chains and pullies, he could act out his dreams. Brad laid on the floor, lifted one of Jody’s feet and set it on his face. The other, he set on his neck. He lay perfectly still, feeling the weight of warm soles pressing on his mouth, his nose, his Adam’s apple. His dick stood upright, quivering with passion, as the naked giant loomed above, in fantasy, crushing his head, grinding his face, choking him with those enormous feet. There was potential danger in this phase of the ritual. If any of his victims came off the drug at this point, he could stomp his throat and kill him. But this danger was itself an exciting turn-on and kept Brad’s cock trembling.
Using the pulley rope hanging next to him, Brad raised Jody so his feet were about ten inches above him. Then he let the body drop. Jody’s huge feet dropped heavily onto Brad’s face and throat. This was the stomping fantasy that Brad played out with all his victims. Always extremely erotic. But he had never before felt almost three hundred pounds drop on his face and the weight almost broke his nose. As it was, the nose was bloodied and his Adam’s apple nearly crushed. Brad rolled out from under the feet and gasped. He cursed himself for being so stupid, for not accounting for Jody’s weight. On his knees, he choked and tried to get his breath and throat back to normal, while holding his hand over his nose, trying to stop the bleeding. After a few minutes, he had calmed down. He looked up and saw Jody’s body hanging above, his head drooping to the side, eyes closed, and mouth agape. Looked so innocent. Brad lowered him until their faces met, and then punched the unconscious boy in the nose. “Fuck you! We’re even.” Brad watched blood dribble to Jody’s mouth, then off his chin onto his smooth pecs before running down the belly into his pubes. He smiled and kissed the boy’s lips, savoring the taste of his blood.
Brad pulled Jody up and positioned himself under the feet again. But this time, they would drop onto his belly. Many times, Jody’s weight came down hard on the belly and, even though Brad tensed his gut, it began to hurt. As pain shot through his gut, his cock exploded. Jizz shot high into the air and splattered back onto chest and face. Again. And again. He was cuming like a teenager. Then, totally spent, he rolled from under the weight, turned on his side, grabbed one foot close, kissed it over and over, and fell asleep with his lips on the arch.
In time, Brad awoke. Time to move on to the next game: kicking. Jody still hung from his wrists. The nose had stopped bleeding, but his chest and belly were covered with streaks of dried blood. Brad rigged his pullies so the he could pull Jody back by the waist, then let the body swing forward but be jerked to a halt. The waist would stop, but the legs and feet would continue until they smashed into Brad’s chest as he kneeled naked before the huge boy. Usually, Brad let the feet smack him in the face. He might wear goggles to keep from getting a toe in the eye, but he enjoyed the sensation of being kicked in the face. Plus, toenails often cut his face. But he wasn’t taking any chance with this guy. And just as well. When Jody’s feet crashed into Brad’s chest, the force knocked him so far backwards that he cracked his head against a chair. Feeling blood in his hair, Brad knew he was dealing with totally new phenomenon. Still, Brad let the gigantic feet smash into his body over and over, pummeling his naked body, loving every blow. And each blow furthered his fantasy that this huge, naked Paul Bunyan was kicking the shit out of him. He stood and let Jody kick him in his gut, the ultimate gut punch. His already tender abs absorbed so many kicks that he simply slumped to the floor in pain. Serious but glorious pain. And, in the end, his passion overwhelmed him and he let Jody kick him in the face. The force knocked him over and almost out. His head rang, he was woozy and unsteady. A sharp toenail had cut deep into his cheek. Aroused even more now, he set two sawhorses behind him and took a second blow to the face that knocked him over the horses and onto his head. He lost consciousness and missed feeling his cock jerk and spurt.
Eventually, Brad pulled himself up. He had spent hours being stomped and kicked by these two great feet. He suffered dark bruises, and bleeding cuts from sharp toenails. His nose was bloodied. His head hurt. His upper body ached terribly. Jody had inflicted serious abuse on his body, but Brad was fulfilled, invigorated, hungry for more. Yes, hungry. That was it. Hungry.
With the pulley and chains, he maneuvered Jody back onto the wooden bench. He secured the boy with a chain around his neck and nailed his palms to the bench. (Could have used chains, but what the fuck, nails are always fun!) He sniffed the left foot, the one who’s toe was still nestled in Brad’s mouth. It still stank of the strenuous, sockless workout Jody had done just before coming here. Brad picked up a sneaker, shoved his nose deep inside, and inhaled deeply. Ahhhhhhh! He felt a surge in his groin as the gamy stench entered his nostrils. For several minutes, he breathed deeply, savoring the stink. He cut off the sneaker cloth, turned it inside out, and sucked to taste Jody’s foot raunch. He licked at the inside of the sole, his tongue absorbing the rancid taste of a young male athlete. He did the same with Jody’s other sneaker, desperate for the boy’s taste and aroma.
Brad turned to the body on the bench and those huge, beautiful feet. He sucked every toe, slowly, deliberately, passionately. Between the toes, he licked at lint and scuzz. Then his tongue felt it, scaly skin between two toes. Athlete’s foot! Just the one spot, but it was enough! Brad ran his tongue between those two toes, lapping at the the scales, wishing there was more. He noticed a blister under the big toe. He bit into it and sucked the juice out. Mmmmm! So sweet and salty! And pulled all the blister skin off with his teeth and chewed on it a while. He examined the feet closely. Smooth, fresh, young. Few blemishes. That was a plus. But blisters and fungus and scaly dead skin would also have been a plus. And so very tasty.
With a nail, Brad scraped toe jam from under the toenails. Mmmmm. Nasty, musky, but thick and delicious. He saw the big toenail on the left foot was covered with a fungus. He wedged a screw driver under the nail until it pulled away from the toe. Then, with his teeth, he yanked it off. Jody’s body jerked reflexively, but nothing more. Brad rolled the fungal nail around in his mouth. Exquisite! He began to chew. The nail was hard and thick, difficult to chew, but Brad kept at it until it finally was nothing more than masticated fungal mush, and he swallowed. A piece of the nail was stuck between his teeth and he couldn’t dislodge it. Irritating, but he ignored it and wrapped his mouth around the naked toe. Christ! This toe was bigger than most of the cocks that had fucked his mouth! And tastier, too. There was a small amount of blood. His teeth scraped at the newly exposed skin. Tender, soft, never before exposed to air, and a bit stinky due to the fungus. Brad’s teeth chewed and scraped, rubbing the tender skin raw and bloody. His mouth sucked up loose tissue and fungus and blood. Brad’s dick was bobbing up and down again. Jody’s dick lay soft and flaccid on his groin.
Brad finally made the decision. He would kill Jody now. Sometimes, he worked on feet while the victim was alive. The sound of screams was sooooo fucking erotic. So, too, was the blood. If he chopped or sawed a living foot, blood would spurt and flow like a river, covering Brad and the man and the table. Runny at first, it would quickly begin its coagulation, forming sticky, sweet-tasting puddles for Brad to sip at as he played with a set of bloody feet. All this was great fun. But today, with the most erotic feet he had ever encountered, Brad elected to keep it clean.
He ran his hands and tongue over Jody’s smooth, young skin. Tasted his crotch sweat Licked his jock itch. Ran his tongue between his butt cheeks and into the tight hole, sniffing, tasting the luscious remnants of Jody’s last shit. Wonderfully foul and rank. He licked all the dried blood from the chest and belly. Soon, he was sitting on the giant’s belly, looking down on the handsome face. Peaceful, angelic, innocent, breathing softly. He bent and licked at the prominent Adam’s apple before he put his hands around the thick neck. But he didn’t squeeze. No, the neck was too large for his hands to adequately strangle the boy. He reached for his baseball bat and laid it across Jody’s throat. He leaned his weight on both ends of the bat and watched as it pressed into the Adam’s apple. As he pressed, Brad put his mouth on Jody’s. The room was quiet as the ritual played out. Brad heard a sort of guttural sound coming from the throat. Felt a short gush of air entering into his own mouth. He was determined to inhale every breath the boy exhaled. He saw the face tense up and begin to turn a bluish color. Jody’s eyes popped open. A look of fear? Was he conscious? The head pulled at the chain around the neck. Beneath his body, Brad felt the boy’s hands pull at the nails. But Brad continued to press the bat into the throat, closing the wind pipe, removing life. A gurgling sound, the death rattle. Another short gush of air escaped the partially open mouth, only to be sucked deep into Brad’s lungs, the final breath. Brad’s hips humped the naked, dead body beneath him. Eventually exhausted, he slumped and fell asleep.
Brad lifted himself off Jody, their bellies sticky from drying cum. He set a block of wood under the left ankle, allowing the foot to hang free just above the table. He pried the remaining nails off the toes, and then snipped each toe from the foot. The nails and toes he set on a white plate. He had swallowed the first toe during his frenzied humping of the corpse, so he popped another toe into his mouth. He chewed happily as he turned his attention to the best part of the foot: sole meat. Using an extremely sharp paring knife, Brad expertly sliced wafer-thin pieces of Jody’s heel. These he laid out like prosciutto on another white plate. There was very little blood on the meat and what little there was, Brad licked off. The meat was clean, pink, like cold cuts. He continued slicing, from the soft underside of each toe, and from the balls of the foot. He carefully carved the arch, producing long thin strips of pink flesh. He set all the pieces on a large pewter platter, tastefully arranged in the manner of a charcuterie plate from a high-end butcher. The platter was covered with plastic wrap and put in his refrigerator, to be consumed tomorrow as he watched a Premier League match. With the best meat removed, Brad picked up his 22” stainless steel butcher saw and began to saw the ankle, about three inches above the ankle bones. The professional saw easily cut through tibia and fibula and skin, and Jody’s foot dropped onto the table. Brad sucked at the severed leg to get whatever blood might seep out. Then, like a carved chicken carcass, the foot went into a large pot of water, to be simmered slowly and used for a broth.
Now Brad turned to the remaining foot. He set the block under the ankle and sawed it off. An electric saw would be quicker, but he enjoyed the feel and the sound as the blade slid back and forward, grinding and cutting bone. Human bone. Jody’s bone. Made the task seem more personal. After Jody’s foot dropped onto the table, he turned to a cabinet and removed three syringes. He filled them with a cocktail of cocaine and LSD. Two stayed on the bench, ready to inject whenever Brad needed another jolt. Brad slid the needle into his arm, pressed the liquid into his bloodstream, dimmed the lights, grabbed the loose foot, and took his aching body to a dark, filthy corner, strewn with bones and pieces of rotted flesh. He squatted naked on the floor and, as the drugs surged through his body and brain, began to gnaw the severed foot. The magnificent foot. The prized foot. The gigantic foot. The precious foot. The foot of his dreams and fantasies. For hours, from that dark, dank, fetid corner came the guttural growls and grunts and groans of a wild animal devouring its prey. It was not an easy task for human teeth to tear the tough flesh on that foot. But Brad would not be denied this unparalleled pleasure. Skin, bone, nails, meat, blood…nothing was denied to his animal lust, his hunger for human meat, Jody’s meat. He gnawed, chewed, ripped, sucked, wanked, drooled. Hours later, his spaced-out brain abuzz with hallucinogenic images, still chewing on bones long since picked clean of flesh, bones falling to the floor of his rancid corner, Brad belched. A long belch. A loud belch. A belch of supreme ecstasy and pure pleasure. He had experienced Paradise.
