[The girl who wanted to eat her own body]

The Girl Who Wants to Eat Her Own Body
Author: Unknown
My surname is Wang, and my given name is Yuzu.
People who know me well like to call me Yuzu. I'm 24 years old this year and a somewhat famous foot model. Maybe other
women become foot models for money, but not me. It's because I have a strong tendency towards narcissism and self-sufficiency. I don't know
if it's related to my name or something else, but I'm madly in love with my own beautiful feet and
have an urgent desire to possess them. Others may not understand why 　　I would use the word "possess"
when the feet are already part of my body. 　　But I know clearly that my possession means that I want to personally cut them 　　off my body with a knife or saw, making them my severed feet. That way, I can easily hold them in my hands and gaze 　　at my familiar yet somewhat strange severed feet for a long time, admiring their alluring and seductive posture. It would also make it easier 　　to gently kiss my own severed feet with my fragrant lips without missing any details. 　　Actually, I'm not entirely sure why I had such a crazy idea. I've asked myself this question countless times 　　, and finally, through reflection, I've come to this conclusion: it might be because when I was twelve, 　　I was home alone one day, playing with my mother's high heels. I used to do this often, probably because 　　I was still young then. My mother would see me and, fearing I'd twist my ankle, would always give me a good beating. Afterward, she'd scare me 　　by saying that if I hurt my beautiful feet, I'd be a cripple forever. But I wasn't scared. 　　Entering puberty, my rebellious nature made me crave wearing my mother's high heels even more, and I slowly 　　started paying attention to my feet. That day, I was home alone, and of course, I couldn't miss such a good opportunity 　　. I put on my mother's shoes—I remember they were red—and walked around the house contentedly, clattering away 　　, listening to the sound of the heels hitting the ground, feeling incredibly proud. 　　Finally, exhausted from playing, I plopped down on the sofa, my right foot, heavy with a high heel, slamming it onto the coffee table 　　. At that moment, my mother's words echoed in my ears. I wondered if my feet could be beautiful too. 　　My childish curiosity led me to examine my own feet. I was already in puberty then, and 　　while the changes in a woman's most prized features weren't yet obvious, for some reason, my feet were 　　no longer the chubby, adorable feet of my seven- or eight-year-old self 　　. They had grown into the delicate feet of a sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl. 　　At twelve, I didn't understand foot fetishism, but… but looking at my feet, I was truly stunned 　　. These feet, encased in a large red high heel, were so cute, yet possessed an 　　indescribable womanly quality, but not the mature womanly quality (later I learned it was called femininity). 　　Perhaps I'd been staring at it for too long, so engrossed that my instinctive reflex caused my foot to twitch slightly 　　. This slight movement snapped me back to reality. Suddenly, I realized how strange the sensation had been; it was as if 　　my foot, when it twitched, wasn't truly mine anymore, but rather had gained its own life. 　　In amazement, I pulled my foot out of the shoe, placed it on my thigh, and 　　examined the part I hadn't been able to see through the shoe. 　　My five toes were playfully clustered together, arranged in a staggered pattern of height. I even tried to control them 　　, and sure enough, I noticed something interesting: the big toe was pointing upwards, while the other three toes 　　curved downwards rhythmically following the second toe. This seemed perfectly normal to most people, but to 　　me, a naive twelve-year-old girl, it was incredibly exciting. So, like a child 　　playing house, I named them one by one. 　　My big toe called out, "Big Sister!" My second toe called out, "Second Sister!" The three toes below weren't moving much, so I 　　got a little annoyed and simply called them "Zhang San," "Old Man," and "Shorty!" 　　Having played with my toes enough, I started admiring the rest of my foot. The most beautiful part was the instep; its white, tender skin was 　　as translucent as jade, and the slightly pulsating veins seemed to give the foot its own life. Suddenly, I 　　had that same illusion again—it felt like this wasn't my foot anymore, but rather a girl's 　　most adorable toy, so beautiful. 　　My childish self once again asked myself a question that now seems equally childish: Is this really my 　　foot? Is this a foot? Is this for walking? 　　Why is it so unfair to it? I gently touched the instep with a tender hand, and 　　wow! The smooth, tender texture reminded me of jelly. A thought instinctively crossed my mind: Can this be eaten 　　? 　　Before I could even answer, I had already picked up my right foot and bent down to taste it. 　　With some effort, I brought my face close to her feet and smelled a faint leather scent, along with a 　　very faint sour smell. Was this her scent? 　　The smell was so unique, unlike any other scent I had ever smelled before. At twelve years old, I wasn't 　　particularly interested in this smell, but that didn't stop me from wanting to continue savoring the feeling of my own feet. 　　Finally, my mouth reached my toes. Excited, I bit the inside of my foot hard. " 　　Ouch!" 　　I cried out, "Ouch!" The pain almost made me jump. My mouth tasted salty, completely different from the jelly-like flavor I'd felt earlier. 　　Looking at my little foot, two rows of teeth marks were visible where I'd bitten it, with 　　a faint trickle of blood. It looked completely innocent. A strange feeling stirred within me, 　　a sense of satisfaction, even pleasure, from the prank. I couldn't explain why 　　I felt that way, but from that moment on, I seemed to develop a special affection for my feet. Whenever I 　　was alone, I would always play with them, which later evolved into kissing them. 　　Twelve years passed, and I gradually blossomed into a beautiful young woman. During this time, this affection deepened, and 　　my sense of touch with my feet grew stronger. It was no longer just simple play like when I was twelve. My feet gradually...

Gradually, it seemed to have become my lover. When the night was deep and everyone was asleep, I could easily hug my
feet to sleep. Sometimes, when I woke up, I would even give my big toe a sweet little bite! It wasn't that I didn't want to
bite hard; after all, I knew it would hurt, so I wasn't that foolish anymore. Unlike twelve years
ago, in these past few years I've found myself enjoying the leathery smell and slightly sour scent of my feet. So much so that
whenever I smelled that scent, I had a urge to cut off my feet, make soup, and eat them. However,
doing so would also be incredibly painful, and I would become a cripple afterward. This fatal reason has always suppressed
my desire to actually touch my beautiful feet.
So, I've become a girl who loves to fantasize, imagining many ways to treat my feet. Every
time I fantasize about reaching climax, my hand involuntarily reaches down.
And the final climax is fantasizing about cutting off my feet and stuffing them into my vagina to achieve satisfaction!
I love this kind of climax and that fulfilling ending, and I only like this kind of ending. My climaxes are always
inseparable from my feet.
Seeing that I've reached marriageable age, and everyone says women are selfless, I'm no exception.
After years of indulging in my own feet, I desperately wanted to find someone I loved, to offer my feet to him, and to enjoy them with him in
our fantasies. So, through an introduction, I met my husband.
The first time I saw him, I noticed he kept staring at my feet. I was secretly delighted, thinking I'd
found my ideal partner, and married him without a second thought. But on our wedding night
, when I waited for him to make a request of my feet, he didn't make a single move, not even touching me. Later,
I learned he was a very shy and traditional man. On our first date, he hadn't looked at my feet; he was
too embarrassed to look at my face and kept his head down, not even daring to look at my feet. He wasn't a
foot fetishist, let alone fantasizing about kissing my beautiful feet or even chopping them off and
eating them.
I was filled with regret, but I couldn't very well file for divorce so soon after our marriage, especially since my family approved of the marriage.
Fortunately, my husband worked in another city and was away from home for long periods each year, which meant I wouldn't see him
and had plenty of time to be intimate with my feet!
To keep me company at home, he bought me a laptop and connected it to the internet, so I
was back online. That night, as usual, I browsed the "Life Stories"
website, which I visit every day. It's my favorite site because it has a section about severed feet. Looking at the
pictures of severed feet, I couldn't help but fantasize that those severed feet were mine. My feet involuntarily moved to the computer desk,
and I began to examine them closely, gently stroking my arches, playing with my five cute toes, and then
I started sucking on them. Ah…it tasted so good.
I not only whispered affectionately to my feet, "You taste so good," but also secretly vowed that one
day I would chop my feet off my body. Suddenly, my QQ beeped, but I was engrossed in my game
and ignored it. Instead, I moved my feet again, trying to stimulate my breasts with my toes.
*Beep beep beep*, several more message beeps. I was getting a little angry. I casually glanced at
the monitor, and what I saw sent a chill down my spine. The message box had popped up on its own, with
only a short message: "Don't just kiss and bite your tender feet. If you really like them, chop them off!"
How did he know I was biting my own foot?!
Looking at the messages, it was only from him. Why were there so many beeps? The more I thought about it, the more suspicious it seemed
. I checked his profile: Name: Left Foot. The rest of his information was blank, and his profile picture was a GIF of a left foot—or rather,
a GIF of a left foot that had been chopped off. My womanly instincts kicked in, and I felt a pang of fear
. After all, I'm just a weak woman, and it was already almost 10 o'clock. My QQ was already
set to reject all friend requests, and I only had 10 people on QQ—all of whom I
knew. There was no "Left Foot" among them!
I counted again, and wait, "How come there are eleven? There's an extra left foot!"
Who is he? How did he get in? A series of questions flooded my mind. His name and profile picture
were so mysterious. Did he also like amputations?
This thought actually excited me.
Driven by a woman's curiosity and excitement, I asked, "Hello, how did you know what I was doing?"
His message came quickly: "If you really want to satisfy your
desire that you haven't been able to fulfill for twelve years, just touch your entire right palm to the monitor, and it will be possible!"
I was even more puzzled. My desire?! Twelve years?! Did he mean my foot?
Twelve years—only I knew this timeframe. I hadn't told anyone. How did he know
so clearly?
I was a little scared. Who was he? Or was he even human?
I wanted to shut down the computer, but then a picture appeared—a
foot I knew all too well. It was my own beautiful foot, severed, and right
next to my computer in the picture…
One second, two seconds… ten seconds passed. I felt myself getting wet. It was so exciting!
The scene I'd been fantasizing about was finally becoming a reality with my own eyes. Then another message popped up…
“Still hesitating? As long as you fully touch the monitor with your right palm, I can give you
the power to manipulate your body. You can then safely remove any part of your body and reattach it, including your
feet. You can even eat your own beautiful feet without worry; they'll grow back. And in this process,
you'll only have to endure 1/10,000th the pain of normal. What are you waiting for?”
Looking at the message, I was tempted. I looked down at my beautiful feet, wanting to cut them off, but
was it real?
I slowly extended my right hand toward the monitor. As my hand drew closer, a sudden fear
gripped me. This left foot seemed to have come from a strange place; would it hurt me?
My hand stopped just 0.5 centimeters from the monitor. Suddenly, I felt
an irresistible suction from the monitor, firmly holding my palm in contact with it
.
Then, a blinding light flashed across the screen, and my body felt like it had been struck by a powerful electric current. I
was thrown backward and crashed heavily to the floor.
The electric current was strong. I felt my lower body was wet again, which was a shame. Something was wrong this time. Oh no, I'd lost control of my blame.
I couldn't help but silently berate myself: "Wang Yuzu, you're so stupid! How could you believe him?
Are you really going to die like this? You're so young, so beautiful..." Gradually, my consciousness began to fade
.
I don't know how much time passed, but I slowly woke up and found myself sitting in a computer chair.
Looking at the time, it was already past 2 a.m. What had just happened? Looking at the monitor, I felt a little scared, yet
it also seemed normal. Seeing the flashing QQ avatars, I mustered my courage and slowly clicked on one. I noticed
several of my online friends' avatars were flashing. I didn't pay attention to the messages, but counted my friends list—ten. There
was no "Left Foot" among them!
"Could it be a dream?" That kind of dream, the first time I'd ever had one in my life, with an intense sense of realism, and
I even lost control of my bladder! Thinking about this, I touched my genitals again; they weren't wet, but the feeling was so stimulating!
I slowly savored the "dream" I had just experienced, and suddenly felt a strong need. Without even turning off
the computer, I excitedly went into my bedroom, eagerly stripped off all my clothes, and
lay naked on the bed. One hand held my feet and kissed them, while the other hand reached down and began to caress myself wantonly
. My lower body was already awash in moisture. My hands frantically ravaged every inch of my territory.
Just as I was about to climax, I suddenly felt an urgent desire, a desire I had held for many years: the
desire to split my body in two and personally taste my lower body.
Previously, I had satisfied myself by licking the love juice on my fingers, but today that method seemed
ineffective. The desire was particularly strong, so I almost frantically sat up, bent over, and
tried to lick my genitals while holding my buttocks with both hands. However, my breasts were too much of an obstacle, resting on my
lower abdomen, preventing my face from reaching down.
Strange! Previously, my breasts could never reach my lower abdomen, but today, in my excitement, they were so close!
Thinking about this made me even more excited, and my desire to touch myself with my mouth grew stronger. Unfortunately, my breasts
were in the way. In a moment of desperation, I instinctively reached out my right hand and shoved my breasts aside. A
faint, fishy smell wafted into my nose! My mouth was already pressed against my labia!
Instantly, my body felt like it had been electrocuted. This time, however, the sensation was a stimulation and excitement I had never experienced before as a woman. Before I could even wonder how I had done it, a 　　surge of fluid was already erupting
from my uterus like a volcano. Without thinking, I quickly parted my labia with my tongue. 　　Right on the inner wall of my labia, I opened my lips, eagerly awaiting the moment of my own passionate outburst 　　. A gush of fluid shot out, and I almost collapsed. I closed my eyes, my limp body collapsing onto the bed uncontrollably 　　. My face seemed to touch a warm, soft body, still retaining some warmth! ? 　　Huh…? 　　What was that? My right hand weakly reached out and touched it. It felt nice, soft, but it seemed… 　　… 　　I struggled to open my weak eyes—ah!! … 　　My left hand instinctively touched my chest, because right next to my face, on my right side, were my two breasts!! 　　This was a huge shock! I was completely stunned by the sudden sight before me. My breasts, my 　　breasts that I was so proud of, how could they be placed alone on my bed? 　　Instead of hanging normally on my chest! 　　What? I didn't feel any pain?! I pinched my cheek. 　　 Ouch… 　　I touched my breasts again, which had somehow left my body. My thoughts were a mess 　　. I couldn't deny that when I saw my breasts placed alone on one side, I did feel an invisible fear 　　, even panic. But this feeling didn't last long. I started to feel a thrill. Those 　　were my own breasts… 　　and now they were sleeping alone beside me. What did that mean? My breasts and my body were separated 　　! 　　I suddenly felt a sense of relief! 　　Why was this happening? 　　Tonight is truly a strange night. The dream I just had has returned to my slowly clearing mind 　　—that's right! That dream! And the message from that person called Left Foot... Could it be...? 　　I interrupted my thoughts again. No! That dream couldn't be real! But 　　how do I explain the pair of snow-white breasts lying beside me? 　　Did he really hit the nail on the head? Do 　　I possess the supernatural power to control my body at will? 　　Doubts left me completely baffled. "In that case, I'll try doing what he taught me," 　　a voice suddenly popped into my head. I know this idea is foolish, but my right hand still 　　moved instinctively. 　　My eyes were already fixed on my delicate, tender feet; they seemed to be 　　beckoning me. Which foot should I try first? 　　After a brief hesitation, I bent my left leg and placed my left foot on my right thigh. I 　　examined it carefully again; just like twelve years ago, the veins were slightly throbbing, the skin was snow-white, possessing its own 　　life. Long-suppressed desires gradually made me lose myself. Regardless of success or failure, my left hand pressed down on my ankle 　　while my right hand pulled forcefully. I felt the blood in my body freeze in that instant, and my left ankle...

The pressure from my left hand was too strong, causing it to slip off my right leg and be slammed back onto the blanket by my own left hand
. My left foot, which was attached to my ankle, had vanished. Then, I felt something in my right palm
. My heart pounded as I turned my head and saw my left foot—or rather, my severed
left foot—firmly held in my right hand!
[The End]

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