You know, I one thought I understood meat. I thought I got why it made me tick, what made it so attractive, so... Succulent...I thought I was meat. That I could feel it in me and that I could one day let it out, like all the stories I read. Once I'd settled in to my greasy, stained couch, ready to become one with the meat, favorite knife in hand, I had a thought. Wouldn't it be better to have meat inside me before I become a part of it? So, taking the knife in hand, I dragged it across my oily, pasty arm, wincing as the edge dug into my tender flesh. A long, thin strip of me-bacon, perfect. The wound began to bleed gravy almost immediately, but I didn't care. I ate meat. The gravy flowed more, my crusty boxer shorts receiving their first wash in the rich brown sauce flowing from my arm. More, I decided, as I sliced layer after layer of me-meat off my arms, the gravy flowing by the boat. There was a pool sounding my sofa, the delectable sauce rolling across the litter-strewn carpet like jizz on ceran wrap. That's when my arms started to swell, and the gravy flowed harder. It was coming. Suddenly, through the wounds stained brown by the thick sauce, meat begins to flow with it, and it was glorious. At first it was small, but they quickly gained in size, from small bites to entire ounces of solid beef, they'd stretch my frail arms to deliciously tight meat cannons, the pressure of the gravy causing it to arc magnificently through the air. It was nauseating, beautiful, and all-encompassing until I burped, a thin trail of gravy making its way past my lips. Then again, until I was full force projectile vomiting gravy and small chunks of meat as far as my shitty arm cannons could propel it. My hands had long been blown off by pieces of meat. I couldn't breathe through the constant stem of meatjuice and solid essence making its way through my throat, and soon it was leaking out my nose as well. With an orgasmic agony, the little skin left on my left arm was literally blown apart as several solid pounds of beef shoulder shot from my body and slapped wetly against the far wall. Pound after pound was landing in my lap as it broke my jaw and took teeth with it, loud, juicy pops eminating from the back of my skull with each new slab being forced through. My stomach region had swollen considerably since I had tasted the forbidden meatflesh, and that's when my bowel exploded. Meat and juice forced its way through my anus with so much force it propelled me out of the blackened, soaked furnature and headfirst into the floor. With every bit of meat I passed, the swelling only increased until an even tighter pressure began to move towards my short, unloved chode. I had thought I'd finally began to piss on myself, but instead, warm gravy spilled out of the tip of my pitiful penis, followed by small cubes of beef that was only requiring a toothpick. It wasn't long until even they began to grew in size, and with a sickly wet pop, my only friend was gone, instead replaced by an eager stream of meatjuice. I felt no pain, however, only relief as my meat was replaced with the true meat. My stomach held about four hundred pounds of the stuff at this point, and it was too much. Crack after loud crack was heard as it snapped my spine like a twig under its immense weight until small tears began to form in the horribly distended flesh of my abdomen. And with the single, wet burst like that of a water balloon, I ruptured, and standing over my remains was a single, fully formed, perfectly alive cow.

The harbringer of the meat.

And it began to graze.