Hunger

It was late afternoon when it hit me. And when it hit me, it hit me HARD.
The desire. The craving. The...dare I say it...lust? Whatever name you know it by, I had to have it, and I had to have it now.

A cocktail of revulsion and desire swirled inside, warning me, censoring me, and yet, egging me on. I could see it inside my head, you know. I could see myself. Hell, I could taste it. Feel the soft flesh ripping under my teeth, bones and ligaments tearing, cracking, grinding under the force of my jaws. It was horrible to see myself like that, to realize that I could descend to a state as primal as that; guided wholly by instinct and hunger.
If there was a battle inside of me, it was over before I even knew of its existence. A lone voice of caution and conscience blinked in and out of existence in an instant. I was slave to its demands, hypnotized by the smell and taste of what I was to do. And all for what? For something that I knew would only hurt me...no matter what momentary pleasures it brought.

She slept beside me, innocent of my thoughts. Her breathing even, slow, sensuous. Sweat glistened on her, pooled beneath her eyelids and drenched the pillow under her head. The day was hot and muggy, but that made what I was about to do all the more alluring. How would she react, I wondered? Would she love it as much as I did? Would she want it as much as I did? Only one way to find out...

I leaned close to her, my fingers brushed her shoulder.

She awoke with a start.

"Honey, its really fucking hot. You wanna go to the mall and have lunch at KFC? I have a hankering for fried chicken like you wouldn't BELIEVE."