special prey
Blood is the ultimate diet food. You clap your hands and squeal with delight as I read the scales.
“From 161 kilos on the weekend you have… Wow. Rowing has made a difference. Swimming has made a difference.”
“What is it? What is it? Tell me!”
Your belly is certainly a fraction smaller and less prone to roll, though the skin is still as smooth and pliant as if you had been made at this weight. You’re still formidable, though, your sexy bulk and pleasing shelf of tits hiding my kneeling form from your sight.
“You’re losing a whole kilo a day. One-five-six now. That’s… An absurd rate.”
You feel me plant a kiss on your lower belly, feel the way my cheekbones, brow and nose poke into you. You put a hand behind my head and press me deep into your warm flesh, feel how you wrap around my whole face to my ears. My own hands massage your belly to either side, luxuriating in the feel of you. I don’t seem to care that I can’t breathe. Your body is more important than breathing.
Seeking a reaction you wait till I stiffen and try to pull away from oxygen deprivation before letting me go. I draw a gasp of air then go right back to kissing your belly, this time goodbye. I stand and pull you into a tight, squishy hug.
“At this rate I’ll be thin in a hundred days. You people are so fattening.”
“You could try not eating us for a while. See how that works out?”
Your answer is to snap my bottom lip in a punitive bite. I’m already laughing. “Shay jat again, I djare you.”
Thursday, after the occult society and the juicing of Joe, my friend Sam visited. I gave you a heads up and, being in a playful mood, you greeted him at the door by grabbing him and pulling him straight into a smothering embrace. He hadn’t a second to react before your teeth found his throat and he was yours for the taking.
Four pints is a good meal. You can feel it beginning to stretch your tummy so you know you’ve eaten, and your prey doesn’t die. You still feel pangs through the day, though. Your body knows you’re starving it and it rebels.
“I have to do this. I’ve been hunting him for months. Allison has him cornered but she doesn’t want him for herself.”
“Allison?”
“I’m going to cheat. Don’t wait up. Kisses.”
I stare at the wall, world rocked. You know others like you? You have special prey?
My night’s opened up. I grab whisky and a guitar and mull. It takes five whole minutes for the jealousy to transmute, for me to rebalance myself. I picture you meeting friends, people who might see the world like you do. I picture the satisfaction you might feel of such difficult prey brought down. The knowledge that these things make you happy is all I need to feel the world is right again.
What’s another few days of burning off your prey? When you come home, empty of prey but wearing him around your middle, I will greet you with the most passionate kiss.