Aromatic Flesh Novels & Stories

So close to Aeolus, but so far. The man sitting inside the chair looked familiar. Too familiar. I'd never met the Pantomath, with gray skin and black eyes. More corpse than man. But then I watched a grin pull at the side of his mouth. The steady, pleasing beat of his heart. The smell of rotting flesh woven into a skin suit. I had never forgotten that scent. The pleasured smile. The way his breath fanned across the room, sweet like his body was devouring itself. The dirty nails biting into me, smearing me with my mother's still-warm blood. The touch is woven into my mind forever. It would never leave me despite how deeply I scrubbed my skin. No matter how much ink I poured into myself.

The smell of rotting flesh is disgusting. Its muscle memory to pull the gloves over my hands, pick a scalpel off the medical tray. The body on the metal table in front of me has no head. ‘You have to take a sample of flesh, a sample of blood and take a look at the internal organs.’ Aunt Cynthia’s voice is clear in my head. ‘The flesh is different from what it should be— too soft, or too tough.’ I make a clear cut down the forearm, where the stiff muscles are as they would be on any other dead body.

Arya sat quietly, her senses coming alive as a train of maids and servants wheeled in their meal on different carts. The rich, savory scent of roast venison wafted through the air first, carrying hints of rosemary and garlic, mingling with the robust fragrance of slow-cooked stews.

Archie pondered and stroked her ass so hard, the skin turned blue, "Your dead cold eyes make me horny… " "Warm flesh could never do what cold flesh does to me. You are a corpse to me and dead corpses make me wanna have sex with them." Several violent strokes later, she fell on the floor like a real dead body drenched in a white fluid. Despite executing such cruelty, Archie had a look of satisfaction on his face. She now realized that Archie was a necrophiliac.

Brownish-red stains—old blood—splattered across the bodice and trailed down the skirt in grotesque patterns. The veil, still attached to matted, tangled hair, hung in filthy tatters over one shoulder. A pungent stench rolled off the figure: the overwhelming reek of decay, damp earth, and rotting flesh that turned Eloise’s stomach violently. She fought the urge to gag.

Sitting on the cold, hardwood floor, I stare at my nephew’s half rotted corpse as the smell fills my nostrils and makes my stomach churn. The ironic thing about all this, is that now the enticing aromas from downstairs, mix with the pungent odor from his rotting corpse and make the bile in my stomach fill my mouth. I start to gag, but I don’t care and still sit there staring because his body is in remarkably good condition for one that has been rotting for almost a year.

The aroma that Dominieck emanated for that moment was extremely pleasant and intoxicating thing that I think his wolf part had something to do, because our second faces always have an answer to give that will not always be according to our requirements and that includes that our skin also comes to perceive a somewhat different aroma, when something does not convince them or when they simply want to take the opposite in some cases not in all.

“S-smell him?” “Yes. The lingering smell of one’s attraction. That sweet, musky smell of a human man.” Absalom sauntered toward her and the swagger of his hips stirred something inside her she would not let herself acknowledge. Absalom was threatening and it would do no good to allow herself to feel anything other than irritation toward him. Maybe not even trust. He continued toward her until he was uncomfortably close. Aria took a reluctant step back but bumped into the cold wall behind her. He didn’t stop until he was inches from her nose. “I have been with no man.” She responded firmly. Absalom sniffed her and inhaled deeply.

I want nothing more than to lay down on the grass, followed by a warm meal. "Let's line up, Amber. You don't want to get the scraps, don't you?" says Sophia before I manage to land. I nod then we line up for food with all others. I can note some clingy, vegetal odor in the air, along with the signature aroma of fried meat and strong nutmeg. It was a simple autumn meal, piping hot thick pumpkin soup, some roasted Brussell sprout and red cabbage, and my favorite; maple balsamic pork tenderloin. Simple, but quite filling, and the aroma, oh boy, just its aroma alone manages to make my mouth dripping wet.

Alpha Aidan explained as Archer and I joined the group of people huddled around the desk, whilst Darren hurriedly flipped through. “Here it is! The Tale of The Flesh Eaters, written by Arthur Bartley. It is said that Arthur saw these creatures one day which inspired the book.” Darren explained with a smile standing back so we all could see the story he was very proud to find, I mean this was only further validating the claims he’s been making.