Succulent Prey

Joe walked to the campus in a daze. He imagined that the fog rolling through the street was emanating from him. He felt protected by it. As long as the fog remained to cloak his thoughts he didn’t have to face what he’d become in the last twenty-four hours. He didn’t have to think about the pain in that Spanish girl’s beautiful eyes when he’d bitten into her breast. It wasn’t just the physical pain that had caused that wounded look. It was the pain of betrayal. She’d thought she’d found the perfect man in him.

He’d seen the look before. Even before he’d started having the uncontrollable urge to eat human flesh there had been his maniacal sex drive. Women would be amazed at his stamina when he would make love to them all night and then further amazed when he would call them the next night for a repeat performance. It would go on for weeks with him seeing them every minute of every day for marathon sex sessions. Then, he’d suddenly lose interest and disappear without a word. Usually after meeting another woman. Or when his collection of women grew too vast for him to keep track of and he would simply forget about some of them as he met new ones. None of them would ever suspect that there were others.

No way he can make love to me for three or four hours straight and still have anything left for anyone else, they would think.

But Joe was a sex addict. His bedroom was like a revolving door. He knew exactly how long each woman was good for, when they needed to leave for work, or pick their kids up from day care, or would just be too exhausted or chafed for another round. When he wasn’t having sex he was hunting for new sex partners. Then he’d started having the urges and everything began to change.

He’d experimented with S&M before, even extreme bondage and blood play. It was more pleasure than he’d expected to derive from whipping a man’s naked ass with a cat-o’-nine-tails or sticking needles through a woman’s labia or burning a woman’s nipples with a candle flame or the powerful orgasm he’d had when he’d strangled unconscious a kid he’d met on campus while fucking him in the ass with a dildo. The kid dropped out of school the next day and had never returned.

Joe’s enjoyment of these things had been completely unexpected. The fact that he’d wanted to take it further was even more unexpected.

He’d been circumcising a man at an S&M sex club. The man had approached him with this huge uncircumcised cock in hand. He had big blue puppydog eyes that looked wounded but trusting. His body was lithe and delicate like a young girl’s, in stark contrast to the hardened flesh straining between his thighs. He had a castration fantasy. So Joe had agreed to circumcise him. He had just sliced off half his foreskin when he’d suddenly had the urge to bite the man’s penis off. He imagined chewing it up and swallowing it, what the tender flesh would taste like going down his throat. He plopped the man’s foreskin into his mouth and began to chew it. The man’s eyes had widened in amazement and a tremor of excitement had gone through the crowd of onlookers, many of whom were masturbating as they watched them play.

The rush of pleasure that went through Joe’s body all the way down to his manhood was overwhelming as he consumed the morsel. Then he’d lowered his head down between the man’s thighs, baring his teeth, preparing to devour that luscious nine inches of rigid flesh, to bite the man’s penis clean off. Joe could sense the man’s excitement and terror rising as they combined into a rapture that vibrated through him like a bass drum. Joe’s mouth enveloped his cock and the man moaned as the pain from where the razor had done its work mingled with the pleasure of that rough slippery tongue probing the wound.

As the man watched his throbbing hard cock disappear between Joe’s lips and push its way down his throat, he let out a sigh of soul deep ecstasy. Joe’s teeth bit into the base of his cock and the man shuddered on the edge of orgasm. He began to convulse with a screaming climax as he felt Joe’s teeth bite deeper and begin to tug, trying to tear his cock right off of him. He ejaculated down Joe’s throat and Joe released him, gagging and coughing. The man smiled at him with a look on his face of utter satisfaction.

‘That was incredible, man! Do you want me to do you now?’

Joe ran out of the club, horrified by both what he had done and what he’d been about to do. Now he had done far worse. Joe awoke from his reverie standing in the campus courtyard, not knowing how he had gotten there. There were three minutes before his class started. He sprinted across campus, arriving at the lecture hall just as the professor was preparing to begin his lesson.

‘We were just talking about you, Joseph. Thanks for joining us. Take a seat please. As I was saying … cannibalism is at the end of the continuum of a sadistic murderer’s evolution, the ultimate expression of dominance and control, predation at its base essence, the devouring of human blood and flesh to satisfy sexual fantasies. This actually ties in with your theory of a progressive disease, Joseph. If we assume that serial murderers are like drug addicts in that they develop a tolerance for normal ‘lesser’ forms of pleasure then they would eventually develop a tolerance for the run-of-the-mill rape-and-murder scenarios requiring more extreme stimulation, multiple victims, an increase in the frequency of their attacks, and an increase in the level of violence.’

‘Trophy taking begins to go beyond jewelry and photographs into the harvesting of body parts for later use in necrophiliac activities, to relive the murders. In some cases these trophies become the very reason for the murders as in the case of Jeffrey Dahmer, part of his compulsion to own his victims. Some murderers find secluded places where they can not only murder their victims but also store their bodies, to maintain control over their victims even after death. This degenerative cycle leads to the most extreme psychosexual behaviors. Cannibalism is at the pinnacle of this arc. To consume their victims is the ultimate expression of control. Once they devour them they own them forever. They will always be a part of them.’

The professor seemed to be staring directly into Joe’s eyes as he spoke, as if each statement was for his sole benefit. As if he knew. Joe shifted nervously in his chair and wrung his sweaty hands. The professor’s words bore down on him like accusations and Joe had the sudden feeling of being on trial. This is what it would feel like when they caught him. He stared intensely at Professor Locke as the polished old gentleman described the inner workings of his mind as clearly as if he had read his thoughts, saw each lurid fantasy and felt each shivering sensation, giving voice to the demons in his soul in front of a crowd of strangers.

Joe wanted to scream and run out of the room. Instead he forced a smile onto his face and endured the onslaught of words until he couldn’t take it any longer.

‘But what if it isn’t just about control?’ Joe suddenly blurted out.

The entire room turned to look at him and he felt suddenly vulnerable and exposed.

‘What else would it be about, Joseph? A man murders, rapes, and devours a stranger. What else would it be about other than to prove his dominance and power? To sublimate another human being to his will? These men are sadists!’

‘No!’ Again everyone turned to stare at him. Joe nervously stood and took a deep breath to steady his voice. ‘I mean… maybe not all of them. Not all of them torture their victims. Some kill them quickly before they do anything to them. Maybe not all of them mean to cause pain.’

‘Then why do they do it, Joseph?’

‘Maybe it’s love.’ A roar of laughter rose up and Joe looked from face to face while the blood rushed to his cheeks.

‘Love?’

‘Yes. What is love but the desire to unite with the love object? That’s why people get married, to make two souls into one. But of course that’s merely symbolic, imperfect. Marriage is an illusion of a true union. Cannibalism is the real deal. It could be the ultimate expression of love.’

Professor Locke stared at Joe with concern clearly visible on his face. The entire hall was staring at him, speechless. Some of them had smirks on their faces and others wore scowls of disgust. All of them clearly thought Joe was crazy. Joe stood there with his hands held out before him as if beseeching the professor to understand him.

‘I-I’m sorry, Professor.’ Joe plopped down into his chair.

‘Nothing at all to be ashamed of. I respect your passion and your … uh … interesting perspective. You may be closer to understanding these monsters than you think. You are absolutely right. That’s exactly how some of these monsters would justify their actions. Jeffrey Dahmer, for instance, said he just wanted a friend who would never leave him. But when it comes down to it, those are all just rationalizations. These monsters do it because it gets them off. Because they enjoy hurting and humiliating people. They enjoy the power. They enjoy the control.’

He was staring directly into Joe’s eyes again as he spoke. Joe’s mouth creaked open as if to say something but he had no words left within him. His mind was reeling as if he’d been struck. I’m a monster, he thought and then looked around to make sure he hadn’t spoken aloud. He snapped his mouth shut and leaned back in his chair.

Professor Locke smiled and turned his back to the class to erase the blackboard, shaking his head as if laughing at some private joke. Joe gathered up his books and sprinted from the room, nearly knocking over several classmates as he dashed out into the sunlight struggling to catch his breath. The world seemed to be closing in on him. It was as if they all knew. They could sense the monster in their ranks. The sun shone down upon him like a spotlight in an interrogation chamber, revealing all his secrets. He knew now why vampires shunned the light.

It took a long time before Joe pulled himself together enough to go to his next class, a sociology class based on the writings of Joseph Campbell called ‘Man and Myth.’ He’d taken the class hoping they’d get more into vampires and werewolves and other cross-cultural demons. The professor kept promising to get to those topics but so far all he seemed to talk about were dragons and fairies and the Christlike resurrected savoir myths that seemed to pop up in culture after culture all over the globe. He squeezed into a desk chair and tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. Still, he felt as if every eye was upon him. A few of the students from this class were the same students from his psychology class and he could hear them whispering about him behind his back. His own roommate was among them.

Joe spent so little time at the dorm that he barely knew the kid. All he knew was that his dad was some kind of computer whiz who made twice what Joe’s parents made and spoiled the hell out of their effete, socially inept little son. He was an absolute cliché of nerddom. The kid was always on the damned computer. His entire life revolved around it.

Joe could count on his fingers how many actual conversations he’d had with the guy. But then, Joe was never home anyway. Most of his time these days was spent at his apartment in the abandoned tenement building south of Market Street or at the library. Now, with Alicia tied up in that old building, he’d be spending even more time there.

‘He gives me the creeps, man. And I have to live with the guy!’

Joe caught a few random snippets of conversation and bristled with a silent rage. His rich, computer role-playing game-geek roommate was adding more flame to the rumors and innuendos.

‘I hardly ever see him. He leaves right after classes and sometimes he doesn’t come back to the dorm at all, sometimes not for days. I saw him in the library one night reading about serial killers. I came back the next day and he was still there, in the same clothes, reading the same book, as if he’d never left. The guy is weird.’

‘Yeah, he’s weird, and fucking huge! He could probably snap your neck with one hand,’ a slender black kid from the track team interjected just as the professor began to scribble on the blackboard.

Joe looked at what Professor Douglas was scribbling and got excited. At last the man had gotten off dragons and saints and onto something Joe was interested in.

‘Shape-shifters. Werebeasts. The loupgarou, the Wendigo, the poor cursed soul that turns into a wolfman by the light of the full moon. We’ve all heard of werewolves but there are other werecreatures in myths and legends from almost every corner of the globe. They appear in the folklore and mythology of almost every culture. The Inuit tribespeople have a legend about the Adlet, a race of dog people that were the result of a mating between an Inuit tribeswoman and a great red dog. These weredogs are said to still haunt northern Iceland in search of human flesh. You’ll see this theme of human animal couplings resulting in monsters repeated over and over across cultures.’

‘These could have evolved as a way to warn against what would have been seen as aberrant sex acts involving animals. The Slavic people have a legend that beautiful women who misuse their physical gifts to seduce men and cause mischief may return from the grave as sultry shape-shifters called rusalki who, like the legends of mermaids and sirens, lure men out to sea to watery graves. It’s easy to see the warning here. Most legends are based on fear and the fear of the power of a woman’s sexuality is very powerful even to this day.’

‘Then there are people who are said to have become monsters by making pacts with Satan. The Portuguese have the legend of the Bruxsa, a woman who turns into a gigantic birdlike harpy and sucks the blood of her own children. Germans have the boxenwolf, which is more like our traditional werewolf and is likewise believed to be a person who has made a pact with Satan for the power of the wolf. The warning there is again quite obvious: Stay in the church. Don’t stray from the religion of your culture.’

‘The term ghoul comes from a mythical shapeshifting creature from the Arabian desert that transforms endlessly from an ox to a camel to a horse and has a voracious appetite for human flesh. In Ghana there’s a demon called the dodo that often appears as a snake and is rumored to be another ravenous devourer of humans. In Japan there’s a fox demon called the kitsune that is said to possess humans and deplete the energy of its victims, draining them dry. Some of them are humans that have turned into werecreatures and others are demons that can simply appear as humans.’

‘How do they turn themselves back?’ Joseph didn’t care what the other students thought of him now. He had questions to which he desperately needed answers.

Professor Douglas turned toward Joe with obvious annoyance at having his lecture interrupted.

‘Yes, Joseph? You had a question?’

‘The werewolves that are just humans who have turned into monsters. How do they turn themselves back into humans? How do they get rid of the curse?’

The professor scratched his ratty overgrown goatee and pondered Joseph a moment, perhaps trying to decide if the boy was genuinely curious or just trying to make some kind of joke. He’d had Joseph in the previous semester and knew that the serious young man was not genuinely the comedic type.

‘Well, let’s see. There are many different theories on how to rid yourself of the curse, according to various legends, though none of them seem to have a very high success rate. Generally, once you invite these demonic animal spirits inside they are nearly impossible to get rid of.’

‘But─‘

Joe wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to steady his voice. He could feel himself growing more and more agitated, his desperation evident in the way he fidgeted in his chair and rang out his hands constantly.

‘But you said there were many theories about different cures. What are the theories? What’s the cure?’

‘Well, we’ll get to that, Joseph. I don’t want to get off track. First I want to discuss the different myths themselves and their similarities,’ the professor said, trying to keep from losing control of the discussion.

‘But you know, right?’ Joe rose from his chair. He was sweating again and he had a look of desperation in his eyes.

‘Uh-oh. Here we go again,’ one of the other students mumbled. Joe was pretty sure it was his roommate. He ignored him.

‘I mean, you know what the cure is? Right?’

‘Joseph. These are just myths. Now take your seat, please.’

Joe looked around and, realizing that he was once again making a fool of himself, slipped back into his chair.

‘I-I’m sorry, Professor.’

Professor Douglas peered curiously at Joe over his glasses.

‘That’s quite all right, Joseph, and I promise we will get to your question. It’s just difficult to really understand the cure without understanding the disease.

‘You mean how they became werewolves in the first place?’

‘Yes, the theories on that vary from culture to culture and even within cultures. There are a number of different ways to evoke the animal spirits. The most common way as in the shamanic skin walkers, the French loup-garou, and the vicious leopard men of West Africa, is to don the skin of a wolf. Some don full skins and some, as in the loupgarou or the berserkers, wear only a belt or a vest fashioned from the hide of the animal they wish to become in order to invoke the transformation. Others rub their skin in salves and ointments made of animal fat or even human fat. The leopard men drank a magical concoction brewed from the intestines of their human victims, which they believed gave them their lycanthropic abilities. Some believe you need only drink water from a werewolf’s tracks in order to become one yourself.’

‘There are magical texts, which prescribe complex rituals for the invoking of the werewolf spirit. One recommends removing all of your clothing and rubbing your skin in a magical ointment made from the fat of a wolf and mixed with anise, camphor, and opium, then donning a wolf pelt and drinking beer mixed with wolf’s blood. You can see how such a complex ritual, particularly with the imbibing of alcohol and opium, coupled with the person’s desire to become a wolf could easily lead one to believe he had indeed transformed.’

‘There are likewise many cults and sects that have wild drunken orgies in which live animals and even humans are consumed and animal hides are worn. During these rituals many of these initiates believe that they have become animals. The Maenads, who worshipped the wine god Dionysus and the horned god of the forest Pan, had wild drunken bacchanals in which they consumed live animals and humans and let wolf pups suckle at their breasts. The Is-sawiya, a shape-shifting cult from northern and western Africa, likewise engaged in these wild organized rituals in order to gain their powers. During their ceremonies they would dress a calf or a bull in human clothing and then rip it to shreds and devour its flesh raw.’

‘But that’s for people who wanted to become werewolves. What about those who were cursed, who became monsters against their will?’

A round of snickers circled the classroom. Joe turned around to glare at them and the room fell silent. He turned back to the professor.

‘Well… there’s usually only a few causes for that and that’s either by being scratched or bitten by someone who is already a werewolf or by involuntarily drinking their blood, or by being cursed by a witch or sorcerer.’

Joe paused for a moment in deep thought.

‘So, let’s say someone is bitten and gets infected with this virus. How do they cure themselves?’

‘You mean for those who have become lycanthropes involuntarily, I assume? There are some who believe that if you sever the lineage at its source, the original shape-shifter that spawned that particular line, then you will release all those wolves he created from the curse. That original werewolf would be the one who acquired his abilities voluntarily. He may still don a wolf’s skin when he hunts and he’d probably be envious of his offspring who manage the transformation without any trinkets or rituals. But most agree that the only surefire way is a silver bullet through the heart, severing of the head, or burning them alive.’

Joe shuddered and fell silent. If what he suspected was correct then the man who’d abducted him over a decade ago, stabbed, mutilated, and nearly killed him, was the werewolf he needed to kill in order to be free. Joe stared at the professor in shock, not hearing another word the man said.

He was thinking about confronting Damon Trent again.