There is a legend about cannabal wannabe/devotees called cannabes. Even the normal run of the mill wannabes and devotees don't like the cannabes. You ask me what a cannabe is. It has been said that no such being could exist, but I have it on good authority that they really do exist, having met one.
What is a cannabe? The name cannabe combines the 3 dominant forces at work
- Their need for human flesh, this makes them cannabals or put in an other way they are into self absorption in a twisted way. These are people into self love and consumption in more ways than one. These people are the extreme limit of self love.
- The second force is the wannabe, wannabes are that section of the fetishists who wanna be disabled and will go to extreme limits to satisfy this desire. They have been known to die in the attempt.
- they are also masochists and enjoy the pain they inflict on themselves.
We will call this cannabe George, I have a thing for Georges, all Wolf and Huntsman spiders, when they get inside automatically become Georges, great big spiders, as big as my open hand they are, but if they have a name they are safe. At least from me, the cat however, is an altogether different matter...
Back to George. To accompany and increase the sensuousness, whenever the mood for self consumption was upon him he would play soft romantic music, his favourite was Vivaldi, The Four Seasons, and to this day whenever I hear it played I think of him. He would light 20 or more candles to create an atmosphere similar to a romantic dinner date.
He would then thoughly wash the area to be consumed. George would always have a dish of home made apple sauce, into which he would often place the portion of flesh and allow it to become coated in the apple favour. When asked why the apple sauce, he simply said it was because human flesh tasted a lot like pork and you should always have apple sauce with pork.
George would go out of his way to maximize the sensuousness of the event by dressing himself in a jacket and tie. Placing a leg or a rump on the plate. He would then stab himself with the fork and slice a hunk of himself off with the knife dip it into the apple sauce, he would then with slow, deliberate, concentration, eat the bite size potion, chewing it well, maximizing the pleasure of eating human flesh, becoming slowly more disabled, and enjoying of the pain he was inflicting on himself, then finally swallowing each bite. He would then take a mouthful of a good red wine, then do it all again.
He would finally pass out and from the loss of blood and be rushed to hospital, this cannabe had eaten both his legs, and was gone from the chest down through this method when he finally died. George really enjoyed being disabled, but was never satisfied and always thought he wasn't disabled enough. It was slow consumption as each time I visited him he would be a little less.