Aromatic Flesh Novels & Stories

I was naked, hot and ready to kill. The aroma of living flesh after into my nostrils. I turned swiftly to see Drogo, eyes popped. He smelled delectable. His flesh was ripe enough. My stomach rumbled at the primal thought of making a snack out of him, before leaving for the wood to catch more game. I took calculated steps towards my kill, lips curled back in a snarl. Drool from my mouth trailed the floor. In a leap, I had him pinned to the ground. His flesh was intoxicating. The peppery scent of his fear was like cinnamon powder dessert.

It reflects the weak morning light like a mirror. But then the smell hits me. Metallic. Sharp. Alive. And then I see the body. A deer. Young. Its legs folded underneath it like it was placed there. Its throat is torn open. Steam still rises from the wound. The fur around the tear is matted and dark, and I can see the pale pink of exposed flesh underneath. The eyes are glassy. Its side is still twitching. It was killed recently. Right here. I can’t breathe. I take a step back, but my boot slides in the blood. I catch myself on the doorframe and nearly gag. The smell is overwhelming now, filling my nostrils and coating my throat. Sweet and coppery and wrong.

"First, we need to prepare the meat. We’ll remove the bones, tenderize it, and marinate it with herbs and spices." Kate nodded, her determination hardening into resolve. She grabbed a knife, her hands trembling slightly as she began to work on the carcass. I joined her, and soon, the kitchen filled with the sharp sound of blades slicing through flesh and the rhythmic pounding of the tenderizer. The smell of fresh blood mingled with the earthy aroma of thyme, rosemary, and garlic. It was a strange combination, almost surreal, but we didn’t have time to dwell on it. Our hands moved instinctively, guided by a mix of adrenaline and desperation. The minutes stretched into hours as we prepared the

“That's not how you talk about my cooking. He frowned. “That's not what I meant. It smells like an animal in heat. “It's probably just my mother's friend Cynthia. She does tarot readings at a store downtown and they burn all kinds of incense. The scent follows her like a cloud. She would be the type of woman who would wear a perfume called Eau de Wolf. Oh, that reminds me. ’ As the pasta boiled, I dragged the huge book Derek had given me from my backpack by the door and held it out to him. “My friend Derek gave me this. He's a mythology student and I think he can help me make a case to discredit Ruth...

I nodded appreciatively, stating, “Perfect.” She was perplexed, but before she could respond, I stood up, extended my hand toward her, and said, “Let’s go for a walk on the beach.” We strolled along the shore, hands intertwined, enjoying a heartfelt conversation. The gentle breeze was soothing despite the cold. Suddenly, Aarya’s attention was drawn to a nearby tree, “Is that...” Her words trailed off as my body tensed, detecting the unmistakable scent of decaying flesh and ammonia. I knew immediately what it meant.

There are no sounds of movements or anything. My stomach tightens with dread and my shoulders, with tension as we walk deeper. The air smells rotten and damp. The horrible stench grows stronger and stronger as we proceed, until it becomes nearly unbearable. My guts clench painfully when it suddenly hits me that I recognize that smell. It smells like… “Rotten flesh.” Damon whispers as if reading my mind. “It smells like rotten, decomposing flesh.” I nod silently, hating the worry that rapidly gnaws at my guts.

She crawled backward, trying to move away from this pig-like monster. Because it smelled so bad... But as she moved a little, the pig-like creature took another step closer, grabbing Arista’s chin, looking left and right. “Looks pretty good.” “No...” Arista pinched her nose. “This isn’t my face...” The pig-like creature nudged her face again. “Although a corpse, the flesh is still tender.” “Not tender! Not tender!” Arista waved her hand frantically. “I’m dead! I’m dead! It’s not tasty at all!”

"Beg for it," he growled, leaning down so his breath ghosted over my ear. "Tell me what a naughty student you are for wanting your professor to wreck this kitty." "Please, Professor... take me. I need you inside me so bad." *********** One touch is never enough. In the glittering world of forbidden nights and dangerous temptations, desire ignites without warning... and burns everything in its path. From a devout preacher's wife who hides her sinful thirst behind the pulpit, to a mysterious stranger who offers a night of sin with no names and no limits. These scorching standalone stories plunge you into raw, insatiable passion. Every encounter is electric. Every kiss, a

Their sight in low light is better than any human vision. Benedict saw movement finally. But for something that they expected to move fast, it didn’t. The creature looked like it too reflected light from its pale flesh. They could only use loosely describe it as flesh. The creature that moved toward them looked like a wet, mummified corpse. Its flesh must have dried out from age, but in this damp space, it didn’t stay dry. The smell here of must and mould were much stronger. Benedict could only imagine what this thing would smell like at close range, and he didn’t relish it. The white looked hairless in this light. Its flesh was a whitish, grey colour, and it stretched out over little more t

One sat, and one was served. When the plate arrived, it was almost jarring in its simplicity. A single, thick slab of meat, seared to a perfect, crusty mahogany, resting on a bed of dark, earthy reduction. It didn't smell like the usual game or cattle. It smelled of something primal, something ancient—metallic, yet sweet.