Something About Marsha

Something About Marsha



It had been with him for as long as he could remember, this insatiable desire to be bitten into and eaten alive by beautiful girls and women. He loved to watch them in restaurants as they devoured food-- especially meat, even more precisely, chicken. He tried to be nonchalant as he watched a pretty girl raise a chicken leg to her open mouth, to her glossy, painted lips, to her sharp teeth, and bite into it, severing a piece of the flesh, chewing it up, and swallowing it into the depths of her body. He often reminded himself that the chicken she was eating had once been alive, pecking around in some barnyard, unaware of it’s destiny: to be eaten by her, bitten into, chewed up, and digested in her stomach. The chicken would then become a literal part of her, a part of her body.

He loved to fantasize about some future culture where men are used as food by women. He fantasized being selected by a woman or group of women, taken home, tied down to their dinner table and eaten alive, bitten into and casually eaten alive without any regard for the incredible pain from their white, ominous teeth, eaten alive with visions of licking lips and hungry gazes at him, of feminine voices telling him how good he tasted and where on his body they were going to bite him next.

And if his femcan fantasies weren’t enough challenge to reality, he also loved to fantasize these beautiful, sexy cannibal women sitting on him, using him as a piece of human furniture, just something to sit on until they were ready to eat him, letting their frilly dresses and skirts float over his face and glimpsing sexy panty-covered butts as they sat down, full weight, on his upturned face.

There was one girl in particular he loved to fantasize sitting on him and eating him alive. Her name was Marsha. She was about average weight and about five foot six. She had the lovely dark skin and eyes of a girl who was part Italian. She attended the same college as he, and she worked part time at a restaurant. The waitresses at the restaurant were required to wear black spandex slacks and white blouses as part of their uniform. The black spandex, stretched tight over the curves of her butt often sent his mind into his favorite futuristic fantasy, with Marsha licking her lips at him, telling him how she was going to sink her teeth in him and eat him, but first using him as something to sit on, lowering that perfect, black spandex covered butt to his face and sitting on him, smothering him beneath all of her young-womanly weight.

As vivid as his fantasy life was, it was only that: fantasy. A world he created in the theater of his mind. He knew that the chance of girls and women doing those things to him were, at best, very remote. Yet, there was something about Marsha. He couldn’t quite lay a finger on it, but it had to do with the way she looked at him, the unwavering gaze from those dark eyes, a hungry gaze, the same way she looked at food she was eating at a remote table towards the back of the restaurant which had been set up for waitresses for a late dinner break. He often sat as close to that table as he could, just to watch her dominate her food with her mouth and teeth.
He and Marsha attended the same college in town. He attempted many times to get to know her, and even asked her out once, but he was gracefully rebuffed. For the most part, Marsha remained aloof towards him, offering him only an occasional, “Hi,” as they passed in a hall. Marsha was popular at college and a cheerleader. She was, as they say, out of his league. She was unattainable, which caused him to fantasize even more about her. She was unattainable, unapproachable as a human being. Crazy as it seemed, it was his very humanness that prevented him from getting close to her sexy body. If he weren’t human. If he were as insignificant to her as the chicken she bit into and ate, or the chair she sat her perfect butt upon, ironically he would end up sharing an extreme form of physical closeness to her: He would be eaten by her and become one with the fleshy form of her sexy body… Then, at least, Marsha would not reject him, instead, would want him, desire him, make him become part of her.

Brad was a good student and sometimes helped one of the football players with his studies. It so happened that the guy he was helping had been dating Marsha. A massive young man, his name was, appropriately, Bubba, just the type of guy Marsha would include in her “league.” As he sat with Bubba at the Student Center, helping him with a math problem, he asked Bubba about his relationship with Marsha.

“Marsha!” retorted Bubba. “Oh, hell no… I won’t get near her anymore.”

“What do you mean?” asked Brad, surprised at Bubba’s reaction.

“She bites,” grumbled Bubba. “The bitch bit the shit out of me last night.” He raised his shirt sleeve and low and behold, two rows of teeth marks that were still imprinted in skin that had turned purple.

“Why did she bite you?,” asked Brad.

“Get this,” remarked Bubba. “We were just sitting on her couch, watching T. V. and suddenly she says, “I’m hungry. I’m going to eat you.” I laughed and pulled my arm away from her, expecting her to also laugh. But she just looked at me, like, man, I’m telling you, she looked at me as if I were a piece of meat! She grabbed my arm and shoved her face into it. She bit me, and I mean, she bit hard. I had to grab her head and pull her off of me.” He continued. “Weird broad. Never again. I’ll never go out with Marsha again.”

After his encounter with Bubba, Brad began to wonder what would have happened if Bubba hadn’t resisted. Would Marsha have kept her sharp teeth buried in his arm until she actually took a bite out of him? Was she joking around, or did Marsha really want to eat him!

The more he thought about it, the more Brad knew he had to find out. He had to discover for himself what was behind those dark, hungry eyes of hers. He decided to attempt something, to say something to her that could either make him look like a fool, or, possibly, gain an inroad to her mind and desires. One night, he approached her as she sat alone during her dinner break. As she often did, she was eating chicken.

“Hello, Marsha,” he nervously greeted her.

“Hi, Brad,” said Marsha, with thinly disguised annoyance.

“I was just thinking,” said Brad. He forced a nervous chuckle. He pointed to the chicken on her plate. “Do you think that chicken would have been happy to know you’d be eating him?”

Marsha cast a curious gaze at him for a few moments before replying: “ He was only a chicken, Brad. “I don’t care if he was happy or not… He’s good to eat.” As if punctuating her reply, she raised a chicken leg to her mouth and bit into it, tearing a piece of meat away from the bone while maintaining a curious gaze directly at Brad.

Brad stood there, gawking at her. She finally offered, “Sit down, Brad.”

Brad sat down. Marsha continued that gaze at him, that hungry gaze, for a few moments and said, “Well, that was a strange way to open a conversation… asking me about my chicken… She pondered his words, repeating them: “Would a chicken be happy to know I was going to eat him… Hmmm… Would you be happy, Brad? Would, you, be happy if you knew I was going to eat you?” She trained those dark eyes on him, and he felt a bulge began to form in his trousers. He didn’t know how to answer.

“Well… um,” he stammered. “Do you want the truth or some other version of it?”

“Now that you have my curiosity peeked,” said Marsha. “Sure. I’d like the truth.”

“You’ll think I’m crazy,” said Brad.

“The truth,” repeated Marsha. “Would you be happy if you were a chicken? And knew I was going to eat you?”

Brad felt the bulge in his trousers grow even more. His face became flushed from her words. Marsha posing a hypothetical question to him about eating him! He just had to, somehow, let his desire be known to her.

“Yes,” said Brad. “If I were a chicken and knew you were going to eat me, I would feel lucky. I would be looking forward to it.”

She settled in her chair. His confession had truly interested her. “But if you were a chicken,” she added. “Wouldn’t I chop your head off and cook you before I ate you? I mean… You wouldn’t want me to eat you alive, would you?”

“Sure,” said Brad, flippantly. “Why not?”

“I think you’d change your mind,” said Marsha, “If I sank my teeth in you and took a bite of you.” She raised the chicken leg to her mouth again and bit into it. “If this chicken could feel it when I bit him like this,” she said, chewing on the chicken, “I’m sure he would… Scream.” She added inflection to the word scream with widened eyes.

“Maybe,” said Brad.

“No… “maybe” about it,” said Marsha. She paused a few moments, considering something. “Brad,” she finally said, “Would you like me to show you how much I’d hurt you if I ate you like this chicken? Would you like me to bite you?”

“Sure,” Brad mumbled, sheepishly.

“I get off work at eleven,” said Marsha, nonchalantly. “Be here at eleven and I’ll bite you.”

Brad decided he’d better not try to say anything else. He’d just gotten an invitation from Marsha to bite him, something he’d dreamed about for over a year. He paid his bill and stayed in his car in the parking lot until eleven. He thought of the deep bite marks in Bubba’s arm. It obviously must have really hurt. He pondered and he pondered. Did Marsha actually want to eat Bubba? And more importantly, was she considering eating him! Cannibals aren’t around anymore, he thought. Are they?

His excitement had reached a feverish pitch when he saw Marsha outside in the parking lot. He had identified his car, and she walked right to it, opened the passenger door and sat her perfect butt down on the seat. The car seat was forced down and groaned beneath her weight, and he imagined himself as the seat, with Marsha sitting on his face.

“Okay,” said Marsha. “… promise not to scream when I bite you?”

“Sure,” said Brad. “I promise.”

“I’ll really bite you,” warned Marsha. “Okay… This is how a chicken feels when I eat him.” She took hold of his arm and opened freshly painted red lips. Her upper and lower teeth looked both inviting and terrifying. She forced his arm to her mouth, as if biting into a chicken leg, and clamped sharp teeth down on his flesh, a pearly vise assaulting his arm, her teeth damp with saliva.

Brad grimaced and tried to not let out the scream that was in his throat. The pain was immense. But the pain was mixed with pleasure as he looked at her lovely face pushed into his arm, her dark, hungry, dominating eyes trained on his as she bit. He instinctively began to pull his arm away, but she just held on to it with her teeth until he thought he would pass out.

When she finally released her oral grip on his arm, he moaned and shook his arm.

“Did you think it wouldn’t hurt?” she teased. “When I bit you?” He remained silent. Marsha added, “… still want to be a chicken when I eat him?” She licked her lips. “… want me to eat you alive?”

Brad had come this far with Marsha. He decided to let it all out. “Yes,” he said, “I want you to eat me… and I want you to use me like a human seat.”

“A human seat?” she asked. “And sit on you?”

“Oh, yes,” asserted Brad. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s all I want from life… I want to be sat on by you, bitten by you, and eaten alive.”

Marsha though a moment. “You really want me to do those things to you? And you don’t care how much I hurt you?”

“Uh-huh,” mumbled Brad.

“You’ll die, Brad,” she reminded him. “If I eat you, you’ll die. When I eat something, it’s no longer around… like that chicken I ate tonight… well… she added and chuckled. “I guess I’ll probably poop some of him out in the toilet later.”

“And part of the chicken you ate,” said Brad, “will turn into you, turn into part of your body.”

She shrugged. “Sure he will,” Marsha agreed. He loved it that Marsha was referring to the chicken as him and not it. “I hope he doesn’t all go to my butt,” She added.

“You have a sexy butt,” said Brad.

“Thanks,” she said. “Let’s see if you still think so if I sat on you… especially if I sat on your face… a hundred twenty five pounds of me, sitting right on your face, squishing you.”

Brad had to look away. This conversation was surreal. Marsha seemed to be considering actually eating him alive… also using him as a human seat and sitting on his face!

“Brad,” said Marsha. He turned back towards her. A distant parking lot light danced about her body and beautiful face. “If it’s what you really want… I would love to do those things to you… sit on you… bite you, all over, and eat you alive.”

Her words burned into his mind. Sit on him! Eat him! He had been right about her all along… those hungry eyes, paradoxically both cold and hot with desire, but a desire for men as meat! A desire to take them into her body through her mouth and relentless teeth.

“I admit,” he told her. “That I’ve fantasized it for many years, especially you, I’ve fantasized you doing those things to me.”

“I guess you’ll have to decide, Brad,” she said. “If you want to leave this in the safe zone of your fantasy life, or if you want it for real.”

“I’m going to need to think about it,” he told her. “I still have more questions for you.”

“I need to get home,” said Marsha. She scribbled her address on a piece of paper. “This weekend… Saturday night… Come on over and we’ll talk some more.”

“Don’t you have two roommates?” asked Brad.

“It’ll be okay,” she said an got out of the car.

“It’ll be okay?” thought Brad. “What was that?” Marsha shared a house with two other cheerleaders, both very beautiful, a blonde haired girl with lovely brown eyes, and another girl, medium height, medium brown hair, and also brown eyes, big, doe-like brown eyes. He didn’t know their names or anything about them, except that they were also cheerleaders and shared a house with Marsha. Images of her roommates cheering at games crowded his mind with bouncing breasts, twirling skirts, and shapely legs. Then their faces invaded his memory, lovely, wholesome faces, rather large mouths shouting cheers and white, sharp-looking teeth. A thought sent chills through his body. “No! Now that is impossible!” he thought. Were all three of them secret cannibals?!”

By the time Saturday night came around, he had worked himself up into a nervous mess. Was Marsha for real? Was she just playing with his head… putting him on? When he entered their house would he be met with an ensemble of laughter?

The house the girls shared was in a wooded part of town. A curved road led up to the house. Three cars were parked along it. He knew that one car belonged to Marsha, but the other two? We’re they her roommates? Did they, instead, belong to a couple of Marsha’s Hulky boyfriends who would beat him up for being so stupid and gullible. He had come this far, and he wasn’t going to back out now.

Marsha greeted him at the door with an indifferent-sounding, “Come in,” It wasn’t a friendly greeting, nor was it an angry greeting. There was something de-humanizing in her voice. He detected it during her offer to eat him. He felt as if she were treating him less like a human being and more like a food source. He felt a tinge of fear mixed with erotic excitement. Then he noticed she was wearing her waitress uniform of shiny, black spandex surrounding her perfect butt.

“Look…um,” It took her a moment to even remember his name, “Brad… I got called into work. Come on in though… I’ll be back later. Meanwhile, you can talk to Samantha and Chelsea.” She scurried out the door. He turned and found the lovely brown eyes of her blonde roommate.

“I’m Samantha,” said the girl. “Please sit down.” she motioned to a couch.

Brad made himself comfortable on the couch. An intriguing smile creased Samantha’s lovely face. She was dressed in a tight tee shirt and short denim skirt. She approached the couch and sat down close enough to him that he could smell her intoxicating perfume.

“Well,” said Samantha.” “Brad… Marsha told us about you.” She crossed shapely legs, and Brad immediately fantasized her sitting on his face like that.

“So…” said Samantha. She kept her eyes trained directly at him. “You want girls to sit on you?.. And eat you?”

“Well,” he answered, tentatively. “I often fantasize it.”

“What if… I… sat on you?” she asked. “What if I used you as part of our couch and just sat on your face? I weigh one twenty.”

“… sounds interesting,” replied Brad.

“And you wouldn’t care if I squish you?” added Samantha.

“Uh… no,” said Brad.

Samantha thought a few moments. Then the words he’d been waiting to hear tumbled out of her pretty mouth.”

“And what if I ate you?” she asked. “What if I bit into you and ate you?.. Alive?”

“Like a chicken,” He heard another girl say. He looked away from Samantha and saw Marsha’s other roommate, Chelsea, standing in the doorway to a bedroom. She was also wearing a tight tee shirt which displayed the perfect breasts behind them, and yellow shorts.

Samantha re-directed his attention back to her. “Marsha told us you practically envied the chicken she was eating. He followed her eyes down to his arm. “She told us she bit you… Let me see.”

Brad lifted his arm to her. The place on his arm where Marsha had bitten him had turned into an ugly purple bruise.

“Oh,” said Samantha. “You need some fresh teeth marks.”

“Bite him,” said Chelsea. He glanced at her as she opened her mouth wide and bit down, as if biting him.

“Want me to?” asked Samantha. “… want me to bite you?” She had a hold of his arm and brought it to her pretty, wholesome face, as if he didn’t have a choice. She opened her mouth wide and clamped her teeth down on his arm. As if was with Marsha, he saw hunger in her sparkly brown eyes, as she assaulted his arm with a warm mouth. He stared at her facial muscles, tightening, her eyes squinting, as her jaw powered her teeth deeper into his flesh. As it was when Marsha had bitten him, Samantha’s bite was an exquisite mixture of pain and pleasure. After she withdrew her teeth from his stinging flesh, he saw the crescent of teeth marks she’d left in him, deep indentations, some filled with specks of blood. Samantha also looked at her handy work and smiled. A pink tongue slithered out from her pretty mouth and she slowly licked at the bloody indentations.

“Yum,” she said, sweetly. “I could take a bite of you… and eat you, Brad.”

“Not really,” said Brad, his voice quivering.

“Yes… Really,” said Samantha and smiled sweetly.

“Me, too,” said Chelsea and plopped down on the other side of him. “You want to be treated like meat? I’ll bite you and eat you up.”

Before he could reply, Chelsea’s mouth was open. She leaned over and bit into his shoulder. Those doe-like innocent brown eyes and smallish nose seemed such a contrast to the pain she was inflicting on his shoulder with sharp, relentless teeth. She bit him just as hard as Samantha had, and then she licked at the bloody teeth indentations.

“We’ll eat you,” said Samantha. “If it’s what you really, really want.”

“And Marsha, too, of course,” added Chelsea.

“Oh, yeah,” said Samantha… “Especially Marsha.”

“Is this a joke?” Brad chuckled nervously. “This has got to be a joke.”

Samantha’s face turned serious. “It isn’t a joke, Brad.”

“We’re cannibals,” said Chelsea. He turned and stared into her big, brown, and he was sure, hungry, eyes. “And we would just love to eat you.” Her tongue wiped slowly, seductively, across her upper lip.

A bulge began to grow in his trousers. His face became flushed. Two beautiful girls sitting beside him with what certainly appeared to be not only an offer, but a desire, to eat him.

“And Marsha?” He breathed.

“Oh, yes,” said Samantha. “The other night, when Marsha bit you, she had to hold herself back. She wanted to take a bite out of you and eat you-- right there in the car.”

“Oh… my…” gasped Brad. “Cannibals? How is this possible?”

“The three of us have known each other all our lives,” explained Samantha. We grew up together in a commune… a very secret commune that was formed a hundred years ago.”

“We were taught that all men are evil and need to be dominated.” added Chelsea… We ate them. We captured men and ate them.”

A sudden impulse to get up and run out of the house gripped Brad. But he was mesmerized by the thought of three lovely girls actually eating him. He pressed them for more information.

“And the men… I mean… I’m sure they didn’t want to be eaten.”

“Of course not,” said Samantha. “They weren’t as easy as you would be if you…”

“Volunteer?”

“Yes,” she replied, smiling with those same lovely white teeth she might be using to eat him with. “Volunteer.”

Brad still wasn’t convinced all of this wasn’t an elaborate act, a joke of some kind.”

“So,” he asked, flippantly, have you eaten anyone lately?”

Chelsea looked across him to Samantha. “Should we tell him?”

“Sure,” said Samantha. “If he went to the cops, who would believe him.”

“Remember that boy… Andrew… Who mysteriously disappeared last year?”

“Of course,” said Brad.

“I was dating him,” said Chelsea… It was so easy to lure him in… and I ate him… As did Marsha and Samantha.”

“He was yummy,” added Samantha, patting her stomach.

He looked down at the crossed thighs of the two lovely coeds seated beside him. He thought of the college boy who had mysteriously disappeared. Then the stark realization hit him. The young man’s flesh had become part of those crossed thighs next to him. The girls had eaten him in an ultimate expression of female domination; they had literally made him become part of their bodies!

“Did you…um,” a lump had formed in his throat.. “Did you eat him alive?”

“We can bite,” said Chelsea.

“Oh, yeah,” added Samantha. “We can bite hard when we want to eat a man.”

The two girls began to talk across him to each other, as if he weren’t there. “Marsha always loves to eat the lips, first,” remarked Chelsea.

“Oh. I know,” replied Samantha. “Andrew thought she was going to kiss him… The look on his face,” she chuckled. “When Marsha bit into his lips, bit them off, and ate them in front of him.” The girls giggled. They’d been eating men for so long, such a monstrous act was funny to them.

“I love the arm meat,” said Samantha.

“I prefer the cheeks,” said Chelsea. “But I’ll eat a man anywhere.” Her hand suddenly shot down and grabbed a hold of his now distended member. Her soft hand felt wonderful, but she grinned, and he gasped at the thought of those teeth chomping down on his favorite plaything.

He started to get up, but Samantha took an arm and guided him back down. “Would you like us to sit on you?” she asked.

“Would you like us to…” added Chelsea. “Use you for a human seat and sit on you?”

He looked down at each of their sexily crossed thighs, and their butts, how they dominated the seat beneath them. He hadn’t ever been actually sat on by a girl--except on his lap--and he wondered what it would feel like, mashed down beneath their young-womanly weight.

As if reading his mind, Chelsea asked: “Want a preview?”

“Want us to sit on you?” added Samantha.

“Well,” I guess we could try it,” said Brad. The girls arose from the couch, and Brad lay down on it. Chelsea stood next to the couch and looked down at him. “How cool!” she exclaimed. “A human seat. I think I’ll sit on you.” she turned around. Her knees bent. And she lowered her perfect butt to his chest, sitting on him, and forcing him deeper into the couch. She crossed shapely thighs and simply sat on him. He gazed up at her torso with twin mounds of tee shirt pushed out by ample breasts. He had difficulty breathing in with her weight atop his tortured chest. And then he saw Samantha, towering over him. She looke down at him and said, nonchalantly, “I guess I’ll sit on your face.” With that, she turned and he looked right under her skirt, yellow panties hugging the curves of her butt. Her denim skirt rode up as she sat down right on his face. He felt her weight push his face deeper into the couch as she casually sat on him. Then she crossed her legs like Chelsea, and simply sat, full weight on his face. The way the girls were sitting on him, he did, indeed, feel like he was part of their couch.

As the girls sat on him, he heard a door open and Marsha grumbling. “Stupid bitch!” she said. “She finally showed up for work.” She was obviously referring to the waitress she had to work for. He heard her footsteps as she neared the couch.

“I see we have a new couch seat,” she said.

“We sure do,” said Samantha, her butt continuing to torture his nose and face. “Want to sit on him, Marsha?”

“You know I do,” said Marsha. Samantha got up, and Brad gulped in the air he had been deprived of. He looked up and saw Marsha standing next to the couch, looking down at him in that indifferent way he’d come to know.

“Hope you don’t mind if I sit on you,” teased Marsha. She turned her back to him and he gazed up at her magnificent, black spandex covered butt. Then her knees bent, and her butt rounded as she began to sit down on his face. Her butt connected with his upturned face. She allowed her whole weight to settled down atop him, burying his face in shiny, black fabric, so tight across twin mounds of flesh. The weight of her sexy body pushed his head down farther into the couch beneath-- same as it had with Samantha. Only this was Marsha! This was Marsha… the Marsha of his dreams… sitting on his face!

“Is he going to let us eat him?” asked Marsha.

“He’s thinking about it,” said Samantha.

“Oh, yeah,” added Chelsea. “He’s thinking about it.”

End of part one