Aromatic Flesh Novels & Stories

SEAN The metallic stench of fresh blood and the sickening, sweet odor of scorched flesh hung heavily in the damp air of the underground holding cells, clinging to my clothes and burning the back of my throat with every breath. I stood completely motionless over the mutilated corpse of the rogue who lay slumped against the heavy iron chains, watching the dark crimson pool expand sluggishly across the sloped concrete floor toward the central drain.

What’s the smell? I peered disgustingly at the crimson lamb flesh on the dish where the putrid stench emanated. I initially assumed it was a mere seasoning, but upon taking a whiff up close, I could discern that the meat had gone rancid. It's downright repulsive and inedible. “Why are you not eating?” asked Aaron, savouring the lamb steak. I looked at his steak and my steak. They have different colours. Aaron’s steak was still in good condition, while mine was not.

My chest was heaving, the cold air burning my throat, but the absolute clarity in my veins was intoxicating. Kane stepped up right behind me, his large hands coming down on both of my shoulders, his thumbs digging into the tight muscles to force the lactic acid out before it could settle. His dark eyes were burning with a fierce, possessive pride that no corporate marketing team could ever replicate or control.

The horror I feel paralyzes me; I’ve never seen a transformation so close, and the grotesque intensity pins me in place, my eyes fixed on their bodies as they begin to writhe. The transformation is brutal, a dance of pain and power that consumes every inch of them. Their clothes tear apart, disintegrating into rags, while their bodies expand, muscles bulging, bones cracking and reshaping in a macabre display of flesh and fur. I hear the sound of bones breaking and adjusting, a crack that fills my ears like the beat of a war drum. The smell of sweat and blood permeates the air, thick and inescapable, bringing with it a bestial and fierce aroma.

The metallic scent of fresh blood mingled with the earthy aroma of the forest, creating an intoxicating bouquet that filled my senses. Each slice of meat, juicy and rich, was carefully placed in a large sack by my side. The weight of the meat pulled at my muscles, a reminder of the physical exertion required in the hunt. But it was a task I performed with purpose, knowing that the sustenance I gathered would nourish not only myself but also my companions.

The visible veins and arteries added a purple hue that cast shadows on its sunken face. Protruding collarbones on its naked chest, sharp cheekbones and elbows added to the malnourished and sickly figure. These features were nothing in comparison to the two-inch serrated fangs projecting from its mouth. I couldn't tell if the blood staining them came from its swollen gums or from someone else's body. I stared at them in horror as it grinned. "Frightened yet?" The air had long since left my lungs, but my horrified expression answered its question sufficiently.

“Arhhhh oh by the gods you feral monster. You beast!” My fur was drenched in blood. I took another bite from Osborne's legs as he screamed in pain. His flesh and bone went down my throat with ease. It wasn’t disgusting, it surely wasn’t. Such a vile, gruesome and abominable act. I knew it was wrong. Every chew screamed abomination and yet it was divine. It was unlike the meat I normally ate. The scent of flesh and blood satisfied me beyond all bounds.

I could see his muscles underneath, swarming with oozing black liquid. I tried not to breathe in the putrid smell, but it filled my lungs and festered the sides of my stomach. I gagged, trying not to bring up my stomach lining. “Sorry, Boss” Trauma grimaced “I’m trying to cover up the stink, but it just keeps getting worse.” Trauma pulled his leg back towards him. As he grabbed a handful of the skin, it came off in his hands. The people around him cried out on disgust. Neeb looked at it hungrily, his mouth now dribbling blood.

My stomach twisted, but not from hunger. “Try a cut?” The vendor grinned, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Ash dusted the meat. “Fresh today.” The word fresh didn’t belong here. Nothing in this city was fresh. Just rotting slower than the rest. I stared at the meat. Dark red, marbled with veins of silver. Hybrids bled black. Wolves bled red. “What is it?” My voice came out hoarse, like I’d been screaming. Maybe I had. He shrugged, hacking at a ribcage. “Protein.”

“He plays games with me . . . us. We shall see whose magick is stronger.” “I’ll try not to let you down,” Tancorix promised. *** “Smells are a powerful memory trigger,” Flavius said as he watched the fire go to work on the pile of bodies. As they walked on to the northern section of Rutland where the Legion prepared to disembark that afternoon, August grunted in agreement. “Nothing smells quite like human flesh burning, save for wild boar on a wooden spit.” Flavius stopped and so did August and Rufus. “You know, now that you say that . . . ” His face flushed.