About me and my stories by Dinner

You may have noticed that all the stories are from the point of view of a girl named Sarah. Sarah happens to be my name. I write these stories after imagining several times what it would be like for these things to happen to me. So it’s only natural that the main character would be almost exactly like me, name included. I also use the names of people I know for the other characters. This doesn’t mean that those people have those personalities. I’m just terrible at coming up with names for characters.

About me: I’m 5’3” (160cm), 135lb (61kg, 9.6 stone), C-Cup, really white (can’t tan ), red hair in a pony tail, green eyes, I wax (there’s no hair below my head). I’m 23 years old and live in southern California with my Master, Mark, and work as a secretary for a rather pervy lawyer who hired me right out of high school (I never went to college).

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Sometimes people ask about why I write these stories. They’ll often think it comes from some sort of mental trauma, anger, sadness or some other negative emotion. This isn’t the case at all. It’s a very happy emotion, and I’m a very happy person. This is hard to explain well. The idea of becoming a delicious meal is a happy one to me. It turns me on. Like how moths are attracted to fire despite the fact that it kills them. I can sympathize with the moths. Though I suppose a moth doesn’t understand their fate…

I’m made of meat. Most people will deny that that’s what they’re made of. I don’t deny it, and I happen to have a fetish that revolves around that fact. It’s a happy thought that my body would be useful and not wasted. The idea that I might leave behind an old wrinkled corpse that gets buried in a box in the ground, or burned to ash, is very sad… It’s wasteful. My meat won’t be any good when I’m old though, so for my body to see full use, I’d have to die while I’m still young.

At the same time though, I have an instinct to not die. Every living creature has this basic survival instinct. Therefore, I don’t REALLY want my biggest fetish to come true. I take my fantasies, release them into stories here, and add a small amount of prologue to them. This keeps my fetish satisfied while keeping me alive.

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How could dying possibly be a good thing in the mind of someone as happy with life as me? Well…

A - The entire body is sexual, inside and out. Being eaten is like oral sex, but everywhere. B - Cooking is an art for the senses of sight, smell and taste, as opposed to most art which is for sight and/or sound. So I’m enjoyed… Savored… Being turned into something that is a form of art. Something greatly enjoyable. C - I become an object for someone else’s benefit. I’m not entirely sure why being dehumanized is sexy, but it is. It’s not the same thing as degradation. To me, the idea of being food isn’t degrading, it’s an honor. D - I help to keep others alive, as food is necessary for life. This makes it benevolent. E - The finality of it is orgasmic. I don’t really want to die, but I like the idea of completely surrendering myself to another like that. It’s the ultimate submission. F - I would assume those who eat me would be sadistic enough to gain pleasure from my pain, so in a way, I would be giving them pleasure. It’s the ultimate form of masochism.

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I hope that helps for anyone who wanted an explanation. And you don’t have to worry about me really climbing onto a grill anytime soon… I keep these purely in fantasy, even if I do try to make them seem as realistic as I can.

- Sarah