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1

Pencil/Pen Drawings / Cannibal Girl Tales (book cover art)

« on: May 06, 2020, 02:54:51 PM »

Cover illustration commissioned by the artist HotGum for my latest book release

He doesn't usually do horror / femcan themed stuff but he certainly knows how to draw a cute cannibal housewife!

2

Fiction / Hans and Greta (a femcan fairytale)

« on: March 22, 2020, 01:33:09 PM »

Hey dudes,

Here's a modernized femcan spin I wrote on "Hansel and Gretel," that classic fairy tale which made quite an impression on many a budding femcan fan (as Hansel44 could tell you!)

Enjoy!

HANS AND GRETA
by Todd Salt

ONCE upon a time, deep within the great forests of Germany, dwelt a widowed mother and her two children. The boy was called Hans and the girl, Greta. They were twins, blessed from birth with tremendous beauty and born of the same tall, trim build with fair skin and hair of gold, like their mother.

In fact, they were both so hot that throughout high school they had to put up with a lot of jokes and rumors about incest from their classmates about incest. Oh, it was true that the brother and sister had stolen a few glances at one another over the years, as Hans put on muscles and Greta’s body developed. But despite Europe’s open-minded laissez-faire attitudes about sexuality, they still managed to respect the incest taboo.

The twins shared a single dream: to escape their idyllic (but dull) lives in the Bavarian countryside and one day move to America, where they would become high fashion runway models. They believed their chances were good, for in addition to having well-sculpted young bodies they also had angular, symmetrical faces. After coming home from school they’d practice posing in the mirror for hours to perfect their most bland and affectless expressions possible.

Their mother, Monika, enthusiastically supported her children’s dreams and shortly after their 18th birthday, revealed she had a surprise for them:

“My children, I have a friend who lives in America. She’s an art dealer in Los Angeles, who owns a house in the Hollywood Hills. She’s very wealthy and wise. If you go there, she will let you stay in her home and help you get your careers started!”

The sexy teens were overjoyed by this news, and began daydreaming constantly about how they’d soon have glamorous new lives as European fashion models living in LA.

Later that week, Hans was packing his travel bag when he overheard his mother on the phone downstairs:

“Yes, Wendy, the kids are going to be so happy to meet you!…What?…No, Hans has been keeping himself in very good shape. There’s not an ounce of fat on him!”

Beaming with pride, Hans unconsciously stood up a little straighter. He was sure that his lean build would be quite the asset for him in the modeling world.

“And Greta? Yes, she’s kept herself in very good shape as well. I know you two will get on famously. She’s going to have quite the career ahead of her. I know you have so much to teach her.”

Hans smiled, and returned to packing his luggage for the journey. He was so excited to meet this Wendy woman!

The two siblings were seen off by their mother the next morning at the train station. She gave them each a peck on the cheek. They were nervous, but happy.

“I hope we can make it to your friend’s house safely after our plane lands, mother” said Greta. “I’ve heard there’s a lot of crime in America.”

“Don’t worry, sis” said Hans. “I promise I’ll protect you.”

———

After a gruelingly long flight, Hans and Greta arrived in LA. They took an airport taxi to the Hollywood Hills, setting out to find the home of Wendy, their mother’s friend.

Worried about running out of money, they had foolishly allowed the driver to drop them off some ways from Wendy’s address. With only one travel bag each, they told themselves it would be good exercise to walk the rest of the way after being cooped up in the plane for so long.

But they sorely underestimated the city’s hostility to pedestrians, especially in this uphill, upscale neighborhood. Very soon the twins were huffing and puffing along the steep roads and their clothes were soaked with sweat.

Adding to this misfortune, they did not have their cell phone service set up in America yet, and so were forced to follow directions to the old-fashioned way: from notes jotted on a piece of paper.

This might have worked fine, if only Hans had not forgotten that important piece of paper in the taxi cab that was now long gone.

Tensions ran higher when Greta recognized some of the same houses, and realized that they’d wound their way around into a circle. Frustrations became worse when their stomaches reminded them that neither sibling had eaten anything since their flight.

Hans had but a half-eaten bagel left in his bag, and feebly suggested using it to leave a trail of breadcrumbs along the street to mark their path. Greta rolled her eyes at this idiocy, and told him to hand over the bagel, which she hungrily devoured.

At last, to their great relief, Hans and Greta found the correct house. They were just in time, for the sun was setting in the smog-hazed sky and enveloping the hills in darkness.

It was a two-story home, with highly eccentric architecture that might have best belonged in a carnival. For it looked as though it were constructed from bread and covered in candy, down to its windows that seemed frosted with sugar.

The twins, almost delirious from lack of food after their long walk, were instantly entranced by the sight of this house. Approaching it, they instinctively ran their hands along the exterior as if to verify that the dwelling were not actually made of food. Such a thing was impossible; it must be their weary, hungry minds playing tricks on them…

A woman’s voice startled the twins:

“Who’s that picking at my house?”

Hans and Greta saw her standing outside, on the house’s front porch. They hadn’t even heard the door open. It was as though she’d just appeared out of thin air!

The woman was a mature beauty with pale porcelain skin, an hourglass figure and a long mane of wavy, raven-black hair (with just a few streaks of gray.)

Her posture was almost regal, and her arms were folded across her chest below her heavy set of breasts. She regarded Hans and Greta with an impish, black-lipsticked smile spread wide across her oval face.

Complimenting her black hair, the woman was dressed almost entirely in black: from the black mini-dress hugging her curves, to the sheer black thigh-high stockings revealing a flash of creamy thigh-flesh, to her gaudy wide-brimmed black hat.

The only part of her outfit that wasn’t black were a pair of red high-heeled shoes, covered in sequins that glittered in the evening twilight.

The twins were stunned. This peculiarly dressed woman had to be, of course, their mother’s friend Wendy, even if she seemed slightly too young for them to have grown up together.

It was also hard for them to believe that their mother, seemingly a typical German hausfrau by all outward appearances, might have been friends with such an eccentric at any point in her past.

Still it was best not to gawk at the woman who had so generously promised to take a couple of strangers in on good faith, as a favor to their mother.

They certainly wouldn’t comment on that big silly hat of hers. Los Angeles was full of free-spirited “creative types” with bizarre fashion affectations and they’d do well to get used to that, if they wanted to work among them.

“You must be Wendy!” said Greta, greeting her with open arms.

“Indeed I am!” she replied.

Greta was surprised to find that despite her and Hans’ height of 6 feet, this lady still had a couple of inches on her when they hugged.

Wendy embraced Hans next, not seeming to mind that both of were covered in sweat.

“Pleased to meet you too!” she said.

As they stepped back from each other, the boy caught the older woman’s eyes running up and down his sinewy form, taking stock of him.

Well, he thought, That IS to be expected. I am a handsome young man, and she no doubt makes herself available to handsome young men, being an old maid with some money. I wonder if she’ll expect me to sleep with her during our stay here, in exchange for her hospitality?

Hans allowed his own eyes to go wandering around Wendy’s tall, voluptuous figure. She certainly kept herself in great shape, and he was quite drawn to her long legs, clad in silky stockings and so gracefully balanced on those dainty little feet that arched perfectly in her sparkly red high heels.

He wondered if her toenails were painted black, to match her long black fingernails? And he wondered what those long fingernails might feel like, raking across his broad back while he pinned her down.

Of course we’d have to keep it secret from mother! But it wouldn’t be so bad. She’s quite beautiful, for an older woman!

Greta frowned as she observed how her brother and her mother’s friend ogled each other. She’d been afraid of this, knowing her brother had a fancy for older women and sometimes took advantage of lonely housewives in their village back home. If he were to sleep with their mother’s friend before they found a place of their own, it could seriously complicate matters.

“Wendy” she said, interrupting their lustful silent appraisals. “If I may call you that? Uh, how did you know we were here already? We didn’t even ring your doorbell.”

The oddly striking woman laughed, and waved a hand dismissively.

“Oh, I smelled you coming” she said. “I’ve got a nose like a wolf!”

Greta blushed, knowing that she and her brother had been perspiring a lot during their trek to find Wendy’s house.

“And just look at you two!” their hostess continued. “No wonder Monika encouraged you to come here. You’re both soooooooo gorgeous! I’ll bet you land your first modeling contract by the end of this week!”

She pinched Hans’ cheek between her fingers, as if he were a little boy.

“I could just eat you up!”

Then she turned to Greta, and winked.

“And you look like a dainty mouthful too, dearie.”

Greta raised an eyebrow. Maybe this good-faith favor to her mother had an unsavory ulterior motive…

“I can’t believe you’re a friend of our mother’s!” grinned Hans. “You look so young!”

Fabulous, Greta thought to herself sarcastically. He’s already flirting with her!

“Oh, no” laughed Wendy, shaking her head. “Me, I’m as old as the hills.”

“The Hollywood Hills?” asked Hans.

Greta and Wendy’s eye met, and after a moment’s silence they shared a discrete snicker.

“It’s a good thing he’s a looker!” whispered Wendy, so quietly that Greta didn’t even see the woman’s black lips moving.

The young girl giggled. Perhaps she would like this woman, if she could just maintain a respectful distance from her brother…and maybe herself, as well.

“I’m glad we found your place when we did,” continued Hans. “I was worried there might be some weirdos crawling around this part of LA. You know, killer hippies and so on.”

“Killer hippies!” laughed Wendy.

“Just something my brother saw in an American movie” explained Greta.

He really is dumb, she thought, looking at Wendy.

And then, an extraordinary thing happened.

As Wendy looked back at her, Greta heard the woman’s voice. Only this time, her lips definitely weren’t moving. And yet she still heard the woman’s voice inside her head, clear as a bell!

Dumb, said Wendy, But quite the tasty looking morsel, eh dearie?

Greta’s jaw dropped. She was about to ask what had just happened…Had she accidentally spoken her thoughts out loud? How had Wendy managed to throw her voice like that?…when Wendy returned her attention to Hans.

“Oh, you saw it in a movie!” she said. “Well, that explains it. Children, you mustn’t believe everything you see in films. There are plenty of weirdos wandering about this city, but I assure you that these hills are very exclusive and safe. No harm shall come to you here. But as it is getting dark, and you must be tired…please, dears! Come inside, come inside!”

Wendy pushed open the heavy wooden front door, although to Greta it almost seemed as though the woman merely waved it open.

Watching the two siblings enter her home, she waited until they’d passed by before licking her lips in giddy anticipation.

“I’ll take good care of you” she chuckled to herself.

(continued in next post)

3

Fiction / Femcans-Giving (a holiday story)

« on: November 28, 2019, 02:26:14 AM »

Hey all,

Just felt like writing a little "holiday special" for Thanksgiving (with a large serving of incest!)

Hope you enjoy!

Femcans-Giving
by Todd Salt

Kyle, a healthy athletic 18 year old, was driving on the highway to his aunt's house for Thanksgiving.

He had a strange feeling about the holiday this year, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Of course, the whole holiday season had felt strange the past couple years since his father had passed away, under mysterious circumstances - the police never found a body and he was presumed dead.

Kyle had tried to be strong for his mom June, and his sister Bethany. They’d put on some weight immediately after the tragic disappearance, out of grief he figured. His mother had never remarried, although even with a few extra pounds she was still a very sexy MILF at the ripe age of 40.

Bethany, home from college for the holidays, was a real stunner too, having inherited her mom’s good looks. The weight she had put on went to all the right places of her shapely curves.

They were both in a jovial mood as they sped along the highway in the family SUV. Kyle was handling driving duties, and for some reason June and Bethany kept their eyes on him instead of their phones as they usually did during long drives.

“Looks like you’ve been keeping yourself in good shape, son” his mom observed.

“Thanks” muttered Kyle, surprised by the gratuitous compliment.

“Mmm, yeah bro!” his sister agreed, from the backseat.

He felt her right hand reach around the driver’s seat, groping his stomach.

“Hey, what the fuck!” exclaimed Kyle.

“Language!” his mother admonished him.

“I’m trying to drive!” he protested. “Get your hands off me, Beth! That tickles!”

But her hand wouldn’t relent from stroking his abdominal muscles.

“Feel that beef!” she said. “Damn, I bet the girls at school really go for you, bro. They’d probably go for you more if you had a little belly fat, though. That would be so much yummier.”

Kyle couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why was his sister talking about him like this?

He took a hand off the wheel and swatted her away.

“Sorry, sis” he snorted. “But I’m not into incest.”

She laughed and reclined into the backseat, then took out her phone to do some texting.

“You’re really gross!” she snickered, scrolling through her social media. “Isn’t that really gross, mom?”

To Kyle’s surprise, he felt his mom’s hand on him now, resting atop and then lovingly squeezing his thigh.

“Your sister is just teasing, sweetie” she said. “I’m sure she’s just feeling a bit hungry, looking forward to this year’s Thanksgiving.”

“Huh?” said Kyle, his eyes involuntarily darting down to his mom’s probing fingers up and down his inner leg.

“She’s looking forward to the turkey” his mother giggled, licking her lips. “And when a woman is hungry, sweetie, all meat starts to look the same. Why, even a healthy young man’s leg could look like a drumstick…”

His mom and sister burst into laughter. Kyle tried to laugh along too, even though it wasn’t much of a joke to him and he didn’t know why his family was being so grabby towards him all of a sudden.

But then his mom’s phone chirped and she needed both hands to reply to a text message.

“Oh, it’s Aunt Carrie!” said June. “She wants to know how soon we’ll be there, I’ll just let her know…”

The text was from Kyle’s aunt Carrie, but unbeknownst to him, that wasn’t really what she was texting his mother about.

How their texts actually read was…

CARRIE: HOW’S THE TURKEY-BOY SIS?

JUNE: GREAT! HE DOESN’T SUSPECT A THING. GOBBLE GOBBLE!

CARRIE: LOLOLOLOL

JUNE: XD

JUNE: I COULDN’T GET HIM TO STOP EXERCISING THIS YEAR THO U KNOW HOW TEEN BOYS ARE!

CARRIE: YEAH TRU

CARRIE: OH WELL I’M SURE EVEN W/O EXTRA FAT HE WILL STILL BE DELICIOUS

JUNE: I CAN’T BELIEVE WE’RE GOING TO EAT MY OWN SON! IS IT WRONG THIS KINDA MAKES ME WET?

CARRIE: LOLOLOLOL NO WAY HE’S A TOTAL STUD! THIS WILL BE MUCH HOTTER THAN WHEN WE ATE YOUR HUBBY

JUNE: OOOHHHH I HOPE SO! I CAN’T WAIT!!!!!!

Meanwhile in the backseat, Kyle’s sister was scrolling through her girlfriends’ photos of Thanksgiving “turkeys” they were preparing for tomorrow’s big day.

Some girls were cooking actual turkeys, of course. But the photos Bethany paused her scrolling to look at in detail were the ones taken by her femcan friends, of their fathers, brothers and boyfriends, naked and all trussed up in giant roasting pans.

The ones who were still alive had eyes bulging wide with fear, usually with a red apple in their mouths to silence their screams. It really got Bethany wet, and for a moment she wondered if she could get away with diddling herself in the backseat before thinking better of it.

She was glad her mom decided to have Kyle’s conversion papers signed. Like her deceased father, Bethany’s brother had no idea that women had the option to legally declare the men in the lives to be meat, and the authorities would look the other way. That was the beauty of the femcans’ secret government takeover.

Of course, it did raise suspicions when a lot of men all disappeared around Thanksgiving every year. Maybe someday the men could be let in on the secret, if they could be trusted to behave themselves, that is.

———

Kyle rang the front doorbell of his Aunt Carrie’s house out in the country, and seconds later the door swung open to reveal his Aunt Carrie herself.

“Hey, sis!” his mom exclaimed.

“Aunt Carrie!!” his sister yipped.

“Oooooohh! Welcome, you guuuuuuys!” she sang cheerfully.

Kyle’s aunt was a few years younger than his mom, with a voluptuous hourglass figure she usually kept packed into tight-fitting dresses. Her deep cleavage had been the subject of many adolescent masturbation sessions for Kyle and he still felt a twinge in his pants as well as a pang of guilt whenever he saw her as an adult.

They entered the foyer and after his aunt gave his mom and sister friendly, familial hugs and kisses on the cheeks, she went in for the kill on Kyle - shamelessly squashing her big boobs against his firm chest and kissing him quite brazenly on the mouth.

Her lips tasted of liquor, but that was no excuse. Kyle was sure that his mom or sister would express some objection to his aunt’s behavior, but they just laughed as she pressed her buxom body into his.

Kyle realized he was getting a hard-on and worse than that, his aunt could definitely feel it. He wasn’t entirely shocked by her behavior though, as his aunt had been flirty towards him in the past - not only was Carrie still single, she’d always exclusively dated young men around his age - although they never seemed to last, and she was always putting on weight after every breakup. For years, his mom had jokingly called her his “Aunt Maneater.”

What did shock him, however, was when he felt his aunt’s hand reaching down to grab his buttocks!

“Hey!” shouted Kyle, pulling himself away from her.

“Ooops!” she said. “Sorry, it's the holidays and I just couldn’t help wanting to snack on some buns!”

June playfully slapped her shoulder.

“Sis, you are awful! How can you just goose my son like that?”

“He’s not a goose, mom” giggled Bethany. “He’s a turkey!”

What the hell was going on here, wondered Kyle as the three women laughed merrily.

“Look how cute my nephew is” said Carrie, “Looking so embarrassed with those bright red cheeks!”

She winked at him and then turned away on her high heels. Kyle couldn’t help admiring the sway of her hips and the bounce of her big round buttcheeks as she lead them into the house.

“Come on in here, and say hi to everyone!” she urged.

The new arrivals made their way to the living room.

“Everyone, look who’s here!” she said to the various other family members gathered on the couches, scrolling through their phones or watching TV.

“Hiiiiiiiiiii!” greeted a dozen female voices in unison.

Kyle was dumbfounded to look around and realize that all in attendance at this year’s Thanksgiving gathering were…women! Apparently not a single other husband, brother, father or even male cousin had been invited.

And even as the various women in his family got up to hug and kiss his mom and sister, Kyle found that the women of his family were all staring at him - with a strange look he’d never seen before.

It was almost a look of sexual arousal, although he knew that couldn’t be the case. Even though the women of Kyle’s family were a great-looking bunch, especially the cute cousins he had around his own age (who were also in attendance), they couldn’t have all suddenly developed incestuous feelings towards him out of nowhere, could they?

No, the look they were all giving him was almost one of…hunger. With their widened eyes and quickened breath, they were looking at him like he was the Thanksgiving turkey, just brought out to the dining table…Some of them were even licking their lips, like his mother had done in the car.

That couldn’t be the case either, right…?

But as they took turns standing up and coming over to him, it was even more of a grope-fest than his aunt had given him in the foyer. One by one, his every female family member was crushing her breasts against his chest, pinching his butt, stroking his legs, feeling up his arms and taking little love nibbles at his neck and shoulders.

“Mmmmm! Soooooooo yummy!!” his hot cousin Kelly moaned, before giving his earlobe a little lick.

Kyle’s hard-on was back with a vengeance, and the women all knew it, too, from the way it obviously tented forward in his pants. Still, none of them were disgusted like they should be - instead, they pointed at it and whispered to each other, smirking and looking hungrier than ever.

“Come, sit down” his Aunt Carrie instructed, guiding him over to an empty spot on the couch.

His cousin Abby, another babe, plopped down beside him with a drink in hand.

“Here, you probably want something to take the edge off after such a long drive, right?”

Smelling the alcohol, Kyle let her hand him the glass and took a gulp. He did need something to drink, though it wasn’t the drive that had put him on edge.

Abby reached out and tilted the end of his glass up, almost choking Kyle as he was forced to gulp it down.

“Good boy” his cousin giggled.

Looking around the living room, Kyle saw that all the women were watching to make sure he’d taken the drink. Only then did they start to turn their attention away from him, chatting amongst each other to catch up on the latest about their jobs, their boyfriends, their favorite TV shows and so on.

Abby started asking him about his plans for college, but as Kyle began answering her questions he found it increasingly difficult to put each sentence together. His speech became slurred, and the room was beginning to spin. How strong had that drink been, anyway? And why did it look so different from everyone else’s?

It occurred to him he should ask how it was possible that he was the only man present for the annual family Thanksgiving gathering.

But he never got the chance, as the room began to grow dim and Kyle fell into a deep slumber with the women’s high-pitched voices humming in his ears.

(continued next post)

4

Fiction / Morgan and the Maneaters (a femcan story)

« on: March 19, 2019, 06:04:01 PM »

Hey femcan fans,

Here's another twisted tale from my imagination. I hope you enjoy it 

All feedback & criticism is more than welcome 

MORGAN AND THE MANEATERS

by Todd Salt

Neal pulled the lateral bar down and watched the weights rise up, relishing the strain he felt in his deltoids.

Going to the gym had been an intimidating impossibility at first. But then it became a comfortable after-work routine, something to fill his evenings with. And then gradually, it had become something to look forward to because of times like this, when he was lifting more weight than he’d ever thought possible before.

Back when he was a fat kid, he never would have imagined that someday his body could look like it did now. If he’d even thought about venturing inside his high school’s weight room, they would have laughed him out before he could attempt a single pull-up.

Neal the Seal, they’d say.

That was his name, as far as the jocks and their cheerleaders and all the other cool kids were concerned, during those darkest days of his life.

But he wasn’t Neal the Seal anymore.

As he did his reps, his eyes drifted around the gym, lingering over the bouncing bubble butts in yoga pants, the sweaty cleavage squeezed into stretchy sports bras, the orgasmic looks on women’s faces as they carried out the sexual rhythms of their workouts.

How did guys ever find the motivation to go work out, before the fitness craze started bringing the ladies into the gyms? It certainly helped motivate him, seeing the kind of shapely bodies he was shaping up his own body for.

Over the past couple months, women at his office had started giving him compliments and that was encouraging, too. Wow, you’re looking good today, Neal! Have you been working out? Why yes, Nancy from Accounting, yes I have, so nice of you to notice. I’ll bet you’d never guess they called me “Neal the Seal” in high school, and that I spent prom night in my basement playing video games? You wouldn’t, huh?

By the way, Nancy from Accounting, how would you like to go in that empty conference room so I can fuck your tits before the 12pm meeting?

Of course, Neal was still far too shy to be that forward.

He was painfully aware that he was still a fat kid on the inside, never having had much experience flirting or picking up on the subtle clues women used to signal what they wanted, and when.

And if he did identify such signals from Nancy from Accounting, what then? The thought of leaning in for a kiss, if he wasn’t one-hundred-percent certain a woman wanted it, was so intimidating. It was intimidating to him even if he knew a woman wanted it.

There was also the matter of sexual harassment complaints to the Human Resources department, and maybe even lawsuits, if those signals were read incorrectly…

No, Neal was biding his time. Going to the gym as often as possible, eating right, sculpting himself into the kind of man who wouldn’t have to guess if a woman wanted him. He’d keep building up his body until the ladies were just drooling for it, and unable to keep their hands off his goodies.

That’s when he’d get back into the dating scene, make a few profiles on the dating sites and apps, and just let the pussy come running to him. Maybe he’d check out the local bars and clubs too, see what kind of hot pieces might approach him.

Hell, maybe it’d even happen here at the gym one night?

And about twenty minutes later, as Neal was doing his arm curls, that’s exactly what happened.

He was counting reps as he lifted the barbells to his chest, feeling the bulge of his biceps when he felt something else: slender fingers resting atop his pumped-up shoulder.

Neal looked up and in the wall-to-wall mirror’s reflection he saw a very attractive woman with a gym bag over her shoulder, smiling at him.

She was a typical gym babe, and then some. Light brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Powerful legs with buns of steel threatening to burst out from the split thighs of her athletic shorts. The words BOY HUNGRY were printed across the gray cotton of her thing, clingy tank top, cut low at the neckline for cleavage and high up at the midriff to show off her tight, toned body.

He wondered if he’d seen her around the gym already, because there was something very familiar about her cute face.

“Excuse me, sir, but your eyes were all over my ass” she said.

Neal froze. Her voice sounded raw and husky, like her throat had been burned up by a lot of whiskey and other hard liquors over the years. She was smiling, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was in trouble and needed to say something clever.

“You saw that?” he replied unthinkingly.

“Kinda hard not to, with all mirrors in here” she smirked. “It’s okay, though. I was checking out yours, too.”

He couldn’t believe it! Finally it was happening, before he’d even reached his training goals. The babes were coming, walking right up to him and complimenting his buff new bod. Today was the first day of the rest of his new life as fucking stud…

The only problem was, he still didn’t have a clue what to do or say next.

All the tips and tricks from “Pickup Artist” forums that he’d read online were failing him at the critical moment…

“Haven’t I seen you around here?” he asked.

It was one of the oldest and cheesiest flirtations in the book, but Neal really did want to know why she looked so familiar.

With her hand still on his shoulder, the woman threw her head back and laughed, her brunette ponytail swinging from side to side as she shook her head.

“Oh, wow. You really don’t remember me, do you!”

Half-smiling, Neal tried to place her face but still came up empty. He set his barbells down on the floor, enjoying the view of her sculpted calves and thighs along the way as he stood up again.

“I guess not” he said with a slight shrug, trying to play it cool.

She placed her other hand on Neal’s sweaty chest and smiled up at him, feeling his heart thumping hard.

It was so funny, that look of fear in his eyes from being so close to a pretty girl. Oh yeah, this was definitely the same guy. She was positive…

The brunette’s ponytail dangled as she tilted her head to one side she licked her lips, savoring the moment.

“Hmm. Well, ah…Maybe this is my mistake, but, ummmmm…Did you go to Donner High School…?”

Donner High School. As soon as those words left her mouth, it all came flooding back.

Oh yes, Neal remembered her very well.

Morgan Montgomery. One of the hottest girls in school, and leader of Donner High’s hottest clique, the Maneaters.

It was bad enough for Neal, being the fat kid that no girl wanted to date. But girls like Morgan and the Maneaters were the ones who really made his life a living hell.

It was her and her pals who’d came up with his “Neal the Seal” nickname, in fact.

One day Morgan had sent her boyfriend and all his jock buddies from the football team chasing after him. They cornered him in the bathroom, stripped him naked, and threw his bare ass into the hallway.

The Maneaters were waiting out there with their cell phones, and took pictures from every angle as he scrambled to his feet, slipping and falling over several times as he ran for cover from the laughter of what felt like the entire school.

One of them - maybe Morgan, he couldn’t be sure - started a chant as he streaked his way down the hallways, crying and sobbing.

“Squeal, Neal, squeal!”

“Squeal, Neal, squeal!”

“Squeal, Neal, squeal!”

Within seconds, everyone but Neal had joined in.

And the very next day, the Maneaters were all over social media, sharing pictures of a real seal with Neal’s blubbering face edited onto it.

That had been years ago. But how could he ever forget?

And since then, even though he hadn’t moved very far away from his old hometown, he’d never expected to somehow run into…

With one hand still on his chest, Morgan moved her other hand from his shoulder onto her own healthy bustline, giving him a friendly little smile.

“Morgan Montgomery” she said.

“I remember now” he replied, feeling flustered.

“You do remember!” she laughed. “Okay, whew. I woulda been kinda insulted if you hadn’t, Neal!”

His mouth dropped open slightly. How many times had he acted out a scenario like this in his head, when Morgan Montgomery or one of her little pals would randomly run into him only to see that he wasn’t Neal the Seal anymore? The scenario where he’d get to leave one of those awful mean girls stupefied by the stud he’d become?

But Morgan had gotten the drop on him, and didn’t seem fazed in the least by his transformation.

As if reading his mind, Morgan raised her eyes and her expression became  sympathetic.

“Hey, c’mon. I know you and I had our, like, differences, but we were both just kids then. I’ve changed a lot…”

Her hand ran down his chest to cop a feel of his abdominals, and Neal felt his manhood stirring within his workout shorts.

“…Just like you’ve changed a lot, Neal. Mmm, wow, that feels hard and firm. Guess you’re not ‘Neal the Seal’ anymore, are you?”

His ears got hot when he heard that dreaded nickname, the one he’d spent his entire adulthood trying to put behind him. But the arousal he was feeling from Morgan’s wandering hand was stronger than his old feelings of shame.

Wasn’t this what he’d wanted, all these years? To have no less than Morgan Montgomery, the top hottie every boy at Donner High School spent a thousand nights jacking off to, confirming that he was now in the same league as her?

A tent was beginning to poke out from his black workout shorts, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Morgan.

This is gonna be easier than I thought, she gloated inwardly.

“Morgan” he croaked, drawing her eyes back up to his, hardly able to believe he speaking to her.

“I, uh…I can’t believe it’s you! You look…great!”

What he really couldn’t believe was that holy-fucking-shit, he might have a shot at fucking Morgan Montgomery…

His face was softening from the initial shock of their reunion into a dopey grin as he babbled on.

“I sure…I mean, uh…Just, wow, y’know?”

Morgan kept an inviting smile fixed at her prey.

Oh, Neal. Still haven’t learned to talk to girls yet, have you? Looks like I found you at the perfect time to be harvested…

“So, uh, are you still with the Maneaters?” he blurted.

It sounded like an attempted joke, but Morgan could see real fear behind the question.

She laughed, then rolled her eyes and covered her face in a good imitation of embarrassment.

“Oh, jeez. The Maneaters. Now that takes me back. No, Neal. High school doesn’t go on forever, does it? We’re both grownups now. And honestly? I think I’ve changed just as much on the inside as you have on the outside. Uh, no offense!”

“None taken” replied Neal, straightening up his posture.

Why should he be offended? He was proud of his new body.

Morgan noted how he beamed at the compliment, and continued to tell him what she knew that he wanted to hear.

“Look, let’s keep it real, right? I feel soooooo bad for the way my friends used to treat you back then! But we’re totally not like that anymore. And, oh my gosh, I wish I could just take back, y’know, just like magically undo all those terrible things.”

Neal studied her carefully. She seemed sincere.

Did she even remember “all those terrible things”?

Did she remember that day when she and the others took their naked pictures of Neal the Seal?

“Are you and others still, uh, friends?”

“Mmm-hmm” she nodded. “And sometimes? When we get together we actually talk about how bad we still feel about that crap we did, not just to you but a lot of guys who were, y’know, in an awkward stage, who we were so immature towards, just ‘cause to because you hadn’t reached, ah, maturity yet.”

She emphasized the word maturity with another saucy look up and down Neal’s body, knowing he was loving it.

“Some of them are totally settled down now” she added. “Husbands, kids, a house in the suburbs, all that good stuff, right?”

Neal glanced at her left hand for a wedding ring, and didn’t find one.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong” she added. “They haven’t let themselves go. They’re a real bunch of MILFs.”

Morgan threw her arms thrown around his shoulders, girlfriend-style, and as her healthy body came closer to his, Neal suddenly felt what he’d been missing, throughout all those years of watching girls like her wrap themselves longingly around their big jock boyfriends.

Neal looked down into the deep canyon of cleavage created when Morgan’s strong upper arms pushed her boobs together, and knew he never wanted to go a day without this feeling again.

“Hey Neal, my eyes are up here!” she giggled.

Red-faced, Neal cleared his throat as he looked back up at her.

“Oh, s-sorry!” he stammered.

Morgan began to rock from side to side, daring him not to look at her rack as it swung like a hypnotizing pendulum.

“That’s okay, Neal. ‘Cause I was gonna say…Even though I still stay in touch with those guys, and some of our lives have gone in different directions…Some of us are still single and, ah, looking to mingle, ya know?”

Neal’s mouth felt dry. He still couldn’t believe that she was really coming onto him, and making it so easy. He still didn’t know what to do or say, but he had to say something.

“Yeah, so which one are you?” he grunted, trying to sound ambivalent.

“Wow, and I thought nerds liked to read” she snickered. “Didn’t you see my shirt? I’m boy hungry! Hey, wait!!”

Neal flinched at her outburst and Morgan released him from her arms, hopping back a step. Her eyes were wide open, as if she’d just been struck with inspiration.

“I just had an ah-mazing idea! You should come hang out with us!! We’re having a dinner party tonight, like a backyard barbecue kinda thing! This would be the perfect way for us to catch up, and for us to, y’know, smooth things over. And oh my gosh, Neal, all my old friends would love to see what a friggin’ hunk you’ve turned into. They won’t believe it!”

He liked the sound of that, she could tell.

“…Really?”

“Oh yeahhhh” she growled. “And like I said, some of those girls? They are always on the hunt for a good man to sink their teeth into. It is like a freaking buffet for single ladies at our little cookouts, and even some of the married ones. Can you imagine, like, Mary Harvey or Krystal Stein seeing you again after all these years?”

Mary Harvey? Krystal Stein?

These were names he hadn’t thought about at all since back in those dark days at the bottom of the social pecking order. But hearing them again brought back more memories. Sneering faces, scornful laughter, mocking comments whispered between cute teenage faces, or spat in his own chubby face if he dared to walk too close to their table in the school lunchroom…

“They’ll be, like, shocked to see what a hunk you’ve turned into” promised Morgan. “They’ll be amazed. That is, if you’re not busy tonight?”

“Well…no!” he exclaimed.

It was a little scary how sudden the invitation was, not to mention the prospect of facing all those ghosts from his past at once. But it was also a chance to show them all at once what they’d been missing.

And with Morgan there to flirt with? What if more than one of them were hitting on him? What if they started competing with each other for the attention of the new Neal? Oh, man.

“I will warn you,” said Morgan, “Me and the Maneaters are still kinda the same in one major way. We all still tend to, ah, just see guys as meat, ya know? That definitely kept us from treating the smarter kids like you with the respect you deserved, but we know that now.”

“And I know you probably get all kinds of action these days, Neal, now that you’re all buff n’ stuff, but you still gotta throw the old Maneaters crew a bone tonight. Come show off what a stud you’ve turned into, since the last time they saw you!”

“You really think so?” said Neal, trembling with joy.

Morgan took a half-step forward to close the gap between them, brushing her athletic frame against his.

“Ooooh, yeah. And they get so horny when they’ve had a few drinks, too. It can get a little messy, whenever one of us brings a guy to the party…By the way, you got a swimsuit?”

“A swimsuit?”

“Yeah” she smiled up at him. “‘Cause I forgot to mention, it’s a backyard beach party. Bikinis and other swimwear only, got it?”

Neal was surprised, but from his vigorous nodding and the swelling in his shorts, Morgan could tell that he got it, loud and clear.

She slung her little gym bag off her shoulder, unzipped it and searched inside for a little notepad and pen. She wrote down an address in hot pink, ripped out the page and handed it to him.

“Midnight” she instructed. “Don’t be late!”

As he took the paper and looked at her address, Morgan spun around on the heels of her white sneakers and walked away with a little extra sashay in the hips of her black lycra-clad booty.

“Wait…!”

“Sooorrrrry, gotta goooooo!” she sang.

Neal idly wondered if she played volleyball. How else could a woman keep an ass like that after high school? Then he imagined pushing himself into her from behind, feeling the crush of those incredible cheeks against his dick and balls.

She looked over her shoulder and gave him a cute little wave.

“Great running into you again, Neal! See you tomorroooow!”

After she departed, he stood lost in thought for a full minute before gradually gathering his wits again and hitting the showers. As he soaped up and washed himself off he replayed the whole encounter in his head and it just didn’t seem real.

Morgan Montgomery’s sudden reappearance out of the past? Her promise that he’d be begged for forgiveness by her old clique of fellow teen queens? Her abrupt exit after giving him an invitation to some sort of orgy with those same popular girls who’d helped to make his high school career a living hell?

It all seemed too good to be true, didn’t it?

But he badly wanted to believe there couldn’t be any strings attached. He needed to believe it. And so he did.

And by the time he was drying himself off and getting dressed in the gym’s locker room, Morgan had already relayed much of the news to her fellow former teen queens as she sped down the freeway…

“Yeah, bitch, I told you I could get him!” she said to her car’s hands free cellular speakerphone. “I mean, this is Neal the Seal we’re talking about! What…? No! No, of course he doesn’t suspect anything…”

(continued in next post)

5

Fiction / Going Native (a femcan tale)

« on: November 13, 2018, 09:07:37 PM »

Hey folks, here's a twisted little tale for your enjoyment about the most classic femcans of all, those man-eating jungle babes...

GOING NATIVE
a femcan story
by Todd Salt

“Twenty minutes to landing, Mr. Talbot” said the overhead intercom.

Ted Talbot glanced at his slumbering trophy girlfriend, the only other passenger on their private flight. Jennifer looked like an angel when she was asleep, and at fifteen years her senior Ted felt an almost paternal affection for his young blonde companion.

The announcement had stirred her awake. As her eyes blinked open, she brushed long waves of hair from her face and that angelic face turned mean, fast.

“I thought you told that fucking pilot not to wake me up until we got there.”

“Sorry, babe” he mumbled. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Jennifer shut her eyes and turned away from him.

Ted frowned. In between the lavish daylong shopping sprees that he funded for Jennifer, and the nights when she rewarded him with sexual favors, it was awkward instances like these that were hardest for deal with. With no Wi-Fi in the tiny seaplane, he couldn’t even pass the time by checking how his stocks were doing.

Jennifer was a “kept woman” and very well taken care of, but keeping her happy required a lot of expensive toys and distractions. Cost was no object to Ted and for Jennifer, neither were questions of legality or morality. When it came to forbidden vices, she’d try anything once - especially on her sugar daddy’s dime.

One morning Ted was rudely awakened by the impact of Jennifer’s lanky frame bouncing onto his bed as she shoved the glowing screen of her phone in his face.

“Ted, look at this article. Cannibals! Real life cannibals, somewhere in, like, Buttfuck, Nowhere. Take me?”

Through his bleary eyes, Ted skimmed the clickbait that had caught his girlfriend’s interest.

“Looks like it’s on some tiny island in Southeast Asia.”

“Whatever. You’ll take me this weekend?”

“Sure, baby girl” he said automatically. Whatever baby girl wants…

Jennifer squealed and clapped her hands excitedly, like a child. Ted suddenly questioned just what he’d committed himself to.

“Why, uh…why do you want to go, exactly?”

She stopped and looked at him like a bratty daughter might look at her uncool father, for daring to question the latest teen fad.

“Do I really have to give an explanation? Urgh. Ted, I swear. Haven’t you ever wondered what human flesh would taste like?”

“Can’t say that I have” he replied evenly. The mere thought of it made his stomach slightly upset, actually.

“Why would you want to see that?”

Jennifer’s attention was back on her phone, texting away as she grunted her answer.

“I don’t just wanna see it, I wanna try it. And I wanna tell all my friends I did, too. I’m sending out a group text right now…they’re gonna be super jealous.”

Ted looked out the window and his recollections of the prior day dissipated away. That mysterious jungle island Jennifer had first seen on her tiny phone screen was now emerging into full view, as they descended through the clouds to their final destination.

———

The pilot was instructed to stay with the seaplane, as Ted and Jennifer made their way onto the beach. The waters were crystal blue and the sand was white as bone. The island was covered in lush green plant life and the air felt warm and balmy. Just your standard tropical paradise, thought Ted, as he watched Jennifer prance ahead in her black two-piece bikini. For a moment he was almost able to let himself forget why they’d come to this remote speck of an island.

He was reminded very quickly. From out of the palm trees emerged a group of about a dozen natives who were not at all the monstrous looking savages that Ted was expecting from a cannibal tribe. They were attractive young women, and tall as amazons. Ted was no shrimp himself, but these women were all a head taller than him - like runway models, but a lot shapelier. Their silky black hair, almond-shaped eyes, plump lips and bronze skin reminded Ted of the escorts that he and some business associates had once hired during a trip to Thailand. But however unkempt or uncivilized these ladies might have been, they were far more naturally beautiful than any tarted-up call girls.

Like Jennifer, they were all wearing bikini tops themselves, but theirs were made from some kind of leathery material that Ted realized, with a chill, was probably human skin. Below their exposed midriffs they were covered in grass skirts. Alluring as they were, he wasn’t about to make any sudden moves around these man-eaters, because they were also carrying pointed spears that could be poison-tipped for all he knew.

Before he could say anything to Jennifer, she was already running to the native women without a care in the world.

“Jennifer!!” he cried.

Some of them readied their spears, but they seemed to quickly decide that the white-skinned foreigner was not a threat. She approached the tribeswoman who stood front and center of the pack.

“I just love your bikini” she gushed, reaching out and feeling the fabric of the woman’s top.

“Thank you” she smiled.

“Hey! You speak English!”

“Yes” the woman confirmed. Ted ran up alongside Jennifer and listened as she spoke through an accent that was thankfully not too hard to understand.

“My people learned to speak English some years ago, not so good English, but we do speak. We are called the Kagtalik. We like to make friends.”

Ted noticed that the woman was only addressing Jennifer, while the other natives, spears in hand, had begun to form a circle around them. They seemed to be sizing him up, and considering why he and Jennifer were there, he didn’t like these cannibals getting so close, even if they were hotties. Ted decided to speak up.

“So!” he blurted, hoping to take charge of the situation as would in any boardroom meeting. “I understand you Cawg-Tuh-Lick are cannibals? That’s what my girlfriend and I…her name’s Jennifer, I’m Ted…that’s what we came to see.”

Jennifer glared at Ted with embarrassment.

“Holy shit, Ted. Would you relax? We just fucking got here, have some manners.”

Turning back to the women’s leader, Jennifer cocked a thumb at her man.

“This is my man, Ted. You’ll have to forgive him for being such a dweeb. But yeah, like he said, we’re here ‘cause I saw something about how you eat people and I wanted to check it out.”

Their ambassador nodded. She and the other natives all seemed to understand Jennifer’s words and were lowering their weapons, becoming more relaxed around their new white visitors.

“Yes, I thought so” said the leader. “Many visitors to our island come to see us for this. Many men…”

Ted caught her eyes do a quick jog up and down his body. No longer on guard himself, Ted had a better appreciation of just how little these Kagtalik women were wearing, and felt himself stirred by them. Except for the spears and ragged clothes, he felt like he was standing amongst a bunch of models doing a “Beach Babes of the South Seas” photo shoot.

“My name is Mali” she smiled at Jennifer.

“What up, Mali.”

“Your man is…up” she snickered, pointing directly at the tent in his shorts that he’d pitched while ogling their hosts.

The other women all erupted into laughter.

“Jesus, Ted” said Jennifer in utter disgust upon seeing what Mali was pointing to.

“I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Come. We show you village.”

“Uh, are you gonna be eating anyone today?” Ted asked, not wanting to be around these people any longer than was necessary.

There was a pause as Mali slowly met his stare. A twinge of fear crept into him.

“Why you ask?” she asked teasingly. “Do you want to be eaten, mister Ted?”

———

The village was pretty much what Ted expected. Grass huts in a clearing, with some fire pits. It reminded him of an old silly TV show he used to watch as a kid, about some castaways on a desert island.

He scanned around the area, looking for…he wasn’t exactly sure. Someone chewing on a human arm, like a giant turkey leg? Ted was so anxious to find something that would satisfy Jennifer’s morbid curiosity, and get this expedition over with, that it took longer for him to notice there was something odd about the place…

“Hey” he said to Mali, “Where are all the men?” But it was Jennifer who answered his question.

“They’re all on the next island over.”

“Huh? There’s another island?”

Mali swept out a hand towards the huts and campfires of her little village.

“Yes, we are just women here. Men come from other island, our brother island. This is sister island” she explained. “When we need man for make family…or eat…we visit brother island.”

Ted was stunned, not liking the fact that he was the only male amongst all these cannibal women.

“Jenny, you knew about this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ignoring his question, she picked up a nearby piece of native pottery that had distracted her. “Hey, this is a pretty vase. You should buy me this.”

Reminded of his wallet and the reliable power it held, Ted tried once more to take control of the situation.

“Listen” he said to Mali. “What we came here for was to see what modern cannibalism is like…”

“And to try it” Jennifer insisted, looking up from the artifact. “Don’t forget.”

“Yeah, and Jennifer wants to…try something” he grimaced. “I’ve got money. I’d be happy to pay you people for your time, so if there’s someplace we could all just sit down, maybe you could bring her…something to, uh, taste?”

“We have no need for money” said Mali. “Everything we Kagtalik need is here, on our two islands. You are family with us. Stay tonight. We feed you.”

Jennifer looked at Ted expectantly. “That sounds great! Right?”

Ted grasped for a reason not to. If they only ate men from the “brother” island, maybe he would be safe. And what about…

“But our pilot…?”

“We bring him here” said Mali.

“Come on, Ted” whined Jennifer. “Don’t be a wuss! This will be fun.”

“Um…I…well…”

(continued in next post)

6

Photoshop / Femcan thots with femcan thoughts

« on: October 16, 2018, 01:01:27 AM »

I know this a pretty cheesy theme but when I got the idea, I couldn't resist 

7

Manips / Femcan caption-stories!

« on: August 18, 2018, 07:26:21 PM »

Some candid pics repurposed for femcan tales enjoy!

8

Fiction / Cannibal Pep Squad!

« on: July 12, 2018, 09:12:37 PM »

This is an excerpt from a femcan-themed ebook I've just published (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FF6BNRZ) called "Cannibal Pep Squad!"

Enjoy!

Dawn stopped jumping up and down. Instead of answering my questions, Heather turned to her and they exploded in laughter. My face scrunched. “I’ve just never heard of…cannonball-ism? Is it some kind of exercise?”

After what seemed like an eternity they finally calmed down. She and Dawn were like two parents relieved that their kid hadn’t heard of “sex” yet.

Heather leaned in close and dropped her voice to a whisper as she laid a hand on my shoulder. “Angela…I’m going to tell you something that might surprise you, but don’t worry. Can-nibal-ism. What I said was cannibalism. ‘Cannibalism’ means eating meat. Human meat.”

I blinked at her, not really immediately grasping the implications. Half of me thought she was joking and this whole afternoon had been a put-on, what with her cavewoman costume and everything, and now this supposed revelation. But the other half of me wasn’t so sure.

She sounded pretty serious.

Eating human meat?

As in people?

I may not have known the scientific term, but a few images did come to mind as I stared back at her.

Hansel and Gretel. The witch and her gingerbread house.

Some old cartoon where a guy starving on a desert island imagines that another guy is a giant turkey leg.

And a few seconds of a scary movie, The Minnesota Woodchipper Bloodbath, that my parents were watching one night - I’d snuck out of bed and listened to a few minutes from the top of our living room stairway. Something about a family of inbred Midwesterners making casseroles out of terrorized teenagers, going Oh yah dis girl has got a lotta meat on her don’tcha know!

(I had nightmares for months!)

Seeing my confusion, Heather took the lead. Y’know, like a leader does.

“We eat human meat. All of us do, on the team.”

“We’re cannibal cheerleaders!” Dawn piped in. “Isn’t that just the coolest?!”

My eyes dropped to the floor as I rolled the concept around in my head.

“Human meat? Like…people? You must be joking, right?”

I looked at Heather’s hand on my shoulder, then at her face. She looked 200% sincere and I started to think maybe she and Dawn weren’t kidding.

Okay, time out.

Pop quiz, quiz kids.

Your new school’s Head Cheerleader has just informed you that she and the entire squad are eating human flesh. Do you…

(A) Have a good laugh ‘cause it’s obviously a sick joke.
(B) Take her at her word, and get outta there before she eats you next.
(C) Go along with the joke and see who cracks first.

Well if you answered (C) then consider this a Pick Your Own Adventure story, cuz that’s what this wannabe cheerleader decided to do!

I took a deep breath and got in character.

“How do you…I thought you can’t…do that?”

Heather gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze.

“You know the expression, ‘you are what you eat?’”

“Sure.”

“Well, if you’re a person eating another person, then you’re still a person, aren’t you? And you’ve heard of evolution, right? Survival of the fittest and stuff like that?”

“Yeah…?”

“What we do by eating other people is just like that. All of us on the team are the fittest and strongest girls in school. So, we’re just doing what comes naturally.”

“Totally” Dawn chimed in as she walked in front of us, eagerly joining the conversation. “It’s like predators and prey. The weak and the strong!”

Heather proceeded carefully. “Angela, when you go to see games at Packer you’re gonna see our guys taking down other teams, like those pussies at Southfield High or Westmore. And those other teams, well, they really suck. Don’t they, Dawn?”

“Totally” she confirmed. “Trust us, Angela.”

“Right, it’s just nature. The stronger pack of animals, that’s our guys. They’re thinning the herd. And we do the same thing, only when we do it, it’s for nutrition.”

“That…makes sense” I heard myself say.

I remembered some old nature show I watched with my dad (he loves them) that I hadn’t thought about in years, where a lion chased after a zebra, pounced on it and brought it to the ground. Kinda like a football tackle. Huh.

Then the lion ate the zebra.

Hey, wait a minute!

“Does that mean…you’ve been serving…is all that barbecue…?”

Dawn took a stick of jerky from the kitchen counter and waved it at me with a face that said, what do you think? Then with a sly smile, she took a bite, chewing extra slowly.

I looked down at my own tummy. Supposedly there are the remains of another human being inside, I thought. The salted, smoked and spiced remains of person.

Damn. They tasted pretty good, too, whoever they were.

(Supposedly.)

I looked around at the bloodstained cleavers and knives around the kitchen and wondered if it wouldn’t be better if this “human meat” joke were legit. At least then I wouldn’t have to kill any fuzzy lil’ animals.

Heather was observing me very closely, trying to see if I was squirming, freaking out, or getting ready to upchuck.

Okay, I get it. I’d have to keep playing along.

I stepped over to all the pieces of fresh meat.

“So I’ve actually been eating people this whole time?”

“Get over it or get into it” said Heather.

“And your barbecue fundraisers, all those people are eating human meat too?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Yeah but they don’t even know it and they sure don’t appreciate it.”

For the first time I thought, what if this isn’t a game that they’re playing? What if this is for real?

Well, I still knew I wanted to be a Packer High Cheerleader.

And Heather didn’t seem like a girl you said “no” to.

I’d already come this far, so ride or die, bitches!

All eyes on me, I oh-so-dramatically selected a big stick of jerky, brought it to my lips and took a big bite.
Heather and Dawn screamed.

In a good way, I mean.

And you know what? It still tasted pretty good. And they wanted to trick me into thinking this was a person? Rude!
Then Heather decided to test me. “Angela, does this mean you’re going to keep eating our jerky and barbecue, now that you know what’s in it?”

“Hey, when you’re in it, you’re in it to win it.”

Dawn gave me a congratulatory pat on the back. Heather seemed satisfied. I’ve always been a girl who can roll with the unexpected. You wanna play games? I’ll play you’re little make-believe game.

“You’re going to notice” said Heather,  “That this is the reason us Packer High squad girls are so much hotter than the Southfield or Westmore High cheerleaders. Besides tasting great, human flesh is guilt free. Low fat, high protein and full of nutrients that keep our hair and skin silky smooth.”

“That’s the real reason they make it illegal. Nobody would buy beauty products anymore!” laughed Dawn.

“How’d you get the idea, anyway?” I asked, curious to hear what kind of story they’d cooked up for me.

“I’m so glad you asked! It’s crazy!” Heather said enthusiastically. “The whole thing started in freshman year, like my first month of freshman year, almost exactly four years ago. I was taking Ancient History with Mr. Casale, and he was telling us about the history of human sacrifice, like with Aztecs and Incas and stuff.  Almost everybody thought it was so creepy. But the really interesting part was when he started telling us how those guys could get the strength from their enemies by eating them! I was like, whaaaaat! So when I became team captain, we added sacrifice and cannibalism to our squad goals and it was so spooky, the Pumas started winning more games than ever!”

The more details they added to this little fantasy, the more real it felt. Maybe it was too soon to ask what I wanted to hear next, but I just had to know. I love secrets. Even made-up ones! Sue me!

“So where…I mean, how do you get the meat?”

Heather leaned back against her kitchen countertop and gazed up at the ceiling.

“Weeeelllllll….it wasn’t easy, at first. We used to order from this one website on, like, a secret part of the Internet where you can get drugs and guns and stuff like that, but we just used it for meat. We’d have to a wait a long time for delivery, too. It was not ideal. That site got shut down, but we realized it’s better to hunt your own meat anyways. Have you ever gone hunting?”

I grimaced at the thought. Hunting? Moi? My parents got scared even thinking about guns. And pulling a trigger on some innocent little forest critter?

“Oh, no. Never!” I said, a little nervously.

Did they need me to have hunting experience?

“I have thought about it sometimes” I hedged. “But, it always seemed like it’s supposed to be a guy thing.”

“That’s true” sighed Heather. “Typical male chauvinism. Angela, the reason women don’t get encouraged to hunt is because guys want to hog all the fun.”

Dawn nodded vigorously. “Heather’s so right! Hunting your own food rules ‘cause very time you bite into a steak or a sausage or whatever meat you got yourself, you know you’ve earned it. You can prepare it any way you want! And, there’s so much you can do with what you’ve caught, besides eating it!”

“A good hunter uses every part of the animal” Heather agreed. “Nothing makes you feel more connected to nature than being smart and using the bones, the hide, even the hair from what you’ve caught after you’ve stripped the meat. Just eating the meat alone would be so wasteful. But using the whole animal? You really learn to appreciate how it’s all part of the circle of life.”

It struck me light a bolt of lightning. The animal skin clothes, the bone jewelry, the leather purses and handbags? This cannibal gimmick was Heather’s whole theme for the squad. The Packer High “Cannibal” Cheerleading Squad. They probably told this story to everyone at school who asked about their weird exclusive fashion accessories. And a freshman girl like me who was trying out for the team got the full treatment. They were actually going to try to convince me it was real! I reached out and stroked the end of one of Heather’s loincloth tassels.

“So this ‘animal skin’ you’re wearing right now, is this what I think it is?”

“Now you’re catching on!” she responded. “And it’s soooo comfortable, too. Nothing feels like a second skin, like a second skin! We make all kinds of things for the team from the trophies we take.”

“Yeah, I noticed the tooth earrings and bone bracelets and everything. Tres chic.”

Heather and Dawn smiled proudly.

“But what happens when your parents or whoever asks where you got the bones?”

“Oh, we just say it’s from chickens or something. Nobody really cares” said Dawn.

“Hmmm. So Heather, the guy you’re wearing right now, what was his name?”

Without missing a beat, she played along right back. Okay, this was fun!

“Oh, I think it was Mike McClaskey.”

“Uh-huh. And are girl skins any softer than boys?”

“Well actually, we don’t use girl skins.”

I was starting to get a little weirded out how prepared Heather and Dawn were for every question I could make up.

“Or girl parts, for that matter” she went on. “We don’t eat our own! Strictly boys. There’s more meat on them, they taste better…”

“And” added Dawn, “It’s like, the feminist thing to do. Girl power, baby!”

That was cute. When Heather came up with this little scenario, she must have thought eating another girl sounded kind of gay. But there were a million times when I looked at a hot guy and felt something like hunger in my stomach. She must have had the same thought. The idea of giving some payback to the guys in this man’s world by actually eating them? Hilarious. Love it!
Heather wasn’t done yet, either.

“Men are disposable. They go fight and die in wars, they get killed working in construction, or they crack their heads open on the football field. We’re just helping ourselves to an over-abundant supply.”

Boy, was she enjoying telling me this. I started to laugh, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Something funny about that?” she asked dryly.

This was almost too much, but it was so funny. These girls were so committed to this! I had been worried ever since meeting Kimberlee Baron that the rest of the squad might be a bunch of stuck-up bitches with no sense of humor.
I didn’t want it to end yet, though. I had to keep this going.

“Oh, you know, it’s just…you guys seemed so…so nice, during the pep rally!”

Heather smiled back.

“Oh, we are. We all take good care of each other and we really do love our school.”

“You never answered my question, though. How exactly do you get these guys? You said hunting, but how do you go hunting?”

Heather licked her lips and raised an eyebrow.

“How do you think?”

I was getting the feeling this joke was starting to move from merely twisted to really dark. But if I chickened out and called their bluff, told Heather that this joke had gone too far? Total wuss move.

This is their real test of my nerves, I thought. She wants to see how far I’ll go. It’s like hearing a scary story, or watching a scary movie like the one she had playing in the living room. You just have to prove you’re not chicken!

“I guess you, uh, go ‘hunting’ for the guys?” I answered myself. “Is it like a real hunting trip? Do you really go out and shoot them?”
Now it was Heather and Dawn’s turn to laugh.

“Um, no” Heather scoffed. “We don’t have to go all gangsta on them.”

“Yeah, our prep time might be, like, double if we had to pick bullets out of everyone” considered Dawn.

“And shooting up our hometown? Really? That is not something I’m about to ask my girls to do! Our methods are lot quieter than going blam-blam-blam-blam.”

“B’sides, I hate guns” Dawn pouted.

I thought back to her joke in the car about taking an axe to guys who were bothering her. Had she been setting me up for this prank the entire time?

“Then how do you do it?” I pressed.

Heather got a mischievous look.

“We have fun” she said, and started to shimmy from side to side, swaying her hips around. “We use what comes naturally. You were born with a nice body, Angela. Why do you think mother nature gave you that? To attract a man. Or men. Many, many men.”

“Before us, cannibals were, like, totally gross” said Dawn. “I looked it up. It’s always some old European dude, or like a fat kiddy-diddler in a clown costume. And those guys always got caught, because they were weirdos. But cannibalism can also be fabulous, and that’s us! We’re sexy, we’re cute, we’re cannibals to boot! The guys line up for us, and we knock ‘em down! It’s too easy.”

“Um, is that why you were asking about whether I was a virgin or not?

“Well, yeah. But like I said, it’s way okay if you are. You just have to be willing to use you’ve got to lure the meat, like a master hunter.”

“What we do is a little more like hunting plus fishing” Heather clarified. “You use yourself as bait. A lot of our best hunters are really just teases.”

That made me cringe a little. Seduce and destroy? Angela Dishner, the deadly femme fatale? I could imagine Kimberlee Baron pulling that off, or Heather, but it was hard to keep a straight face imagining a sweetheart like Dawn being a cold blooded assassin. Or even myself!

“You set a trap, promising a little of this…”

Heather traced a line down her neck, over her bone necklace and into the valley of her cleavage.

“The rest is easy. Guys are so simple, Angela. You know as well as I do that they only want one thing and it’s disgusting. Give a little hint that you might be giving them a little of what you’ve got, and you’ll have them right where you want them…”
Her finger continued down past her cleavage towards her stomach.

“For lunch” she concluded.

“Wow” I deadpanned. “That sounds easy.”

“You bet your buns it’s easy!” laughed Dawn, oblivious to my sarcasm. She placed one hand behind her head and the other on her hip, gyrating her butt in circles.

“All it takes is a little wiggle, and snap goes the trap!”

“So what, basically a typical week for you guys would just be, like…you go to class, you practice drills, you seduce some hunky guy, then you kill him and cook him, to eat over the weekend?”

“Well no, not exactly” said Heather. “We don’t go really after cute guys. You wouldn’t want to eat any kind of athlete, ‘cause their muscles would be too worked out. They’d cook up all dry and stringy and tough. Ick!”

“That’s why we wouldn’t expect you to, y’know, do anything, when you’re out hunting” Dawn said sheepishly. “Those skinny-fat guys, or the fatties who sit at home playing video games all day? That’s where the prime cuts are.”

I squinted at her. They really weren’t giving up on this elaborate horror story yet, were they? I gestured at the roll of stickers hanging near the kitchen sink.

“And these labels that all say ‘white meat’ and stuff? I guess these were all made for me, too? Great touch.”

“Angela” said Heather solemnly. “Those labels are not ‘for you.’ What do you mean, ‘great touch’?”

Fun was fun, but this had been a long day and I was starting to think enough was enough. If I didn’t call their bluff eventually, would Heather really respect me for letting this joke go on all night?

“Errgh, listen” I pleaded. “I’m so honored to be here today, really I am. And I get why you’re doing this whole ‘cannibalism’ act. It’s amusing. I’ll admit I was a little freaked out about this butchering our own meat stuff, but I can learn. Telling me it’s really people is a hilarious idea, but I can’t keep it up any more. So joke’s over, you got me. Okay? You got me! I don’t care if you think I’m being a wuss, I just want to learn more about them team, but for real. Please?”

Heather’s face turned to stone.

We’re talking Egyptian pyramid face.

Nervous, I looked back at Dawn.

OMG! She looked ready to cry!

Oh, shit.

“Angela” said Heather, the voice of doom. “It hurts me, and clearly it hurts Dawn as well, that you wouldn’t take this seriously. I thought from the fact Dawn brought you here this afternoon, that you were a potential candidate for a spot on the team.”

Fffffffffff.

Had I just utterly blown my chances at making the squad?

Was this whole “cannibal cheerleaders” game really so important to team spirit??

Dawn actually ran over to Heather’s side and, I swear this is true, buried her head in Heather’s chest like a baby. And then, Heather actually stroked Dawn’s hair like she was her lost little child.

“Heather, I’m - I’m sorry. Is Angela going to be okay?” she sniffled.

Heather stared at me, judging.

“I think so, Dawn. We can’t help it that our ways are beyond the times. Remember how you behaved when I told you about the secret? Angela’s a cool girl, I think. She’ll come around.”

(Um, Angela is right here, guys.)

“I thought you might feel this way, Angela. It’s always a possibility. I could tell you a lot of lame stuff about how you’re right, this was all a big joke, hah-hah-hah…”

(She actually said the words, Hah hah hah.)

“…But then I’d also have to tell you that the spot on the team is no longer available.”

My heart stopped and I think she took advantage of the moment to look into my soul a little bit. I guess I was worth saving, because she softly ushered Dawn aside, then took her phone from a nearby countertop and pulled up some kind of picture on it. Without saying a word she handed it over to me.

I looked at her, then to her screen.

And guess what? Are you ready?

I don’t know if you’re ready for this.

It was some scrawny guy, chained to the floor of some kind of basement. At first I thought it was a scene from The Minnesota Woodchipper Bloodbath Part II.

Except I could recognize the “star” and it sure wasn’t anybody famous.

No, it was a twerp.

The same twerp who’d tried to talk to me after the pep rally.

It was Melvin!

9

Pencil/Pen Drawings / Cannibal Pep Squad! book cover

« on: July 12, 2018, 08:57:58 PM »

I commissioned this art by a talented guy named Madd-og (he's on DeviantArt) for an ebook I wrote (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FF6BNRZ) I thought he did a great job and wanted to share it!