He walked straight through the quadrangle, his ruck sack slung over one shoulder just like a thousand other students at the university. It was only two weeks into the fall semester and already he was having difficulty concentrating.
This particular September day was warm and clear, leaving the grassy park of the quadrangle littered with students relaxing in the sun between classes.
His name was Marco and he was new in town. His dark complexion gave away the jungle home of his recent ancestors. His grandparents had lived on the banks of the Amazon river, fishing and hunting for their living. Marco, however, was raised as a modern Brazilian. He spoke Portugese, and English, he was good with mathematics, with bicycles and with girls. Marco could not keep his eyes off the bare flesh of the girls as they lounged on the grass in their shorts and removed their shoes. He watched them as they laughed and rolled in the grass, read and wiggled their toes in the air, and he watched as they looked back at him, met his dark eyes and smiled.
He kept walking. Hunger driving him to the cafeteria, though he knew the fruit salad was not going to satisfy this hunger.
The evenings were always the worst time. Marco felt lonely and as he sat in his tiny dorm space he could hear the other students mingling. He had thought it would be easier to make friends. But his thick accent and somber look tended to quell the bubbly cheeriness of young university students.
Marco's parents had sent him away to escape the stultifying stigmas of being an indian. They were glad to have gotten him into the better schools, and very lucky to have been able to send him to America to a big university. A prestigious university.
He could see his grandfather in the mirror saying to him in the language he had forgetten how to speak, but could still understand a little; "You are a human being of the jungle, not like them, but learn what they do, and you can help your kind." His grandfather always smiled and chided him with a tribal name. Only his grandfather used this nickname, and it was certainly something that he took seriously. When his grandfather was dying he called Marco into the room and had him close the door. Marco stood by the bed feeling helpless and very frightened. The old man was smoking, and called to him. "There is one more thing I have to tell you." Grandfather never seemed to be dying, his composure was always of a man simply tired and dreamy. "When you were born I cast a spell on you. Your mother forbade me to do it, but I was very angry with the people-not-of-the-jungle (this was a single word that meant 'irritant'! But Marcos knew who he meant.) I still hate them but I understand now that they are like a flea, they don't understand what they are doing. I cast a spell on you to make you deadly to them. I wanted you to be a fearsome warrior, but a magical one."
Marco looked around the room so not to meet the gaze of his grandfather. "Your name is not Marco, I hate this name, this name your mother gave you to keep you safe and so you could fit in with the 'irritant'. They would never suspect you of what you really are."
Marco looked into his grandfathers powerful eyes, that seemed to see straight into his heart. "I borrowed medicine and I stole you from your mother for one night while I prepared you for your purpose. Are you listening to me?"
Marco's attention was fully on his old grandfather and he could barely stand to be in the room anymore with visions of a mystic rite of his jungle ancestors running through his mind.
"I danced to the gods and I created an identity for you, so the world of the 'irritant' would not swallow you up. I made you the spirit of anaconda, do you understand? This is why your nickname has always been 'little snake' not even your mother knows why. You must never tell them about this!"
As the old man spoke this he lowered his pipe and sighed. "You have power Marco. Not just in the Jungle, I made sure of it, I made you strong and fearsome to surivive in 'their' world."
The old man lingered for two more days and finnally his family was forced to remove him to a hospital where he immediately died.
A textbook of physics on his lap slid to the floor and surprised him. How long had he been dreaming?
He looked up at the clock and saw it was time for a break. The campus didn't approve of late night walks, but it wasn't very late and Marco always easily evaded the police, the security, and damned near everyone else. He was proud to have been descended from a medicine man of the people of the jungle.
Karen watched from her room across the small road, she was astonished to see the figure of a man go out his window and swing hand over hand like a gibbon onto the fire escape.
She shook her head as she sipped her rum and Pepsi. Damn college boys will do anything if it's stupid. The first time she saw him do it she was sure he was drunk, but quickly realized that he was too strong, agile and accurate to be drunk. He would promptly vanish when he hit the shadows of the building. As soon as he was on the ground he was a ghost, he was never there when she called to Beverly to see him, the girls had small independent rooms but often spent nights together.
Karen quickly forgot about Marco the first time, and even forgot to watch for him for a few nights as well. But then she found herself captivated by the idea of him. She wanted to know who he was, in the evening, during the day she forgot all about him.
This time she decided to look for him. She finished the rum and pepsi and pulled herself to her feet. Without even dressing, she slipped on a flannel kimono, stepped into her Birkenstocks and clomped out down the hall and down the stairs, her head swirled, and she realized without slowing down that she was quite drunk.
The night was the most difficult part and Marco knew that the images in his mind were a result of the spell that grandfather had cast on him. Because they were not sensible. Marco walked carefully along the little pathways between and around the buildings, he hid under shrubs and lay along the bank of the small water way that ran through the dormitory community. He didn't make a sound as he walked, and did it barefoot even on the cold nights. He practiced his hunting breath control, just as his grandfather taught him. And practiced 'search image' again a technique his grandfather taught him.
You were supposed to simpy picture your quarry, be it a bird, fish, or mammal of whatever kind. See it in your mind's eye. And let it have color while allowing all the rest of world to be black and white. It was a game recognition, matching, if you did it right your prey would be helpless, its camouflage, be it canopy, water, or earth, would be useless. It would look like a big city red district neon sign blaring "all nude review" in the backwoods countryside of some lonely farm community.
The only trouble was that Marco could not get any image in his 'search image' but the legs, torsos, and little feet of the girls who were relaxing in the quadrangle.
And then he saw her. Karen was a little more stable in the cool night air, but her carelessness was all too apparent, she was actually singing to herself, and walking directly in the light.
Marco was on automatic now, his search image had been matched. Karen was barelegged and the bulky sandals she wore threatened to be lost with each step as she had not bothered to buckle them.
Police, security or another student was bound to catch up to her if he didn't take advantage of this opportunity.
He broke cover and locked onto her, running silently at her back.
A siren was audible in the distance and began to get louder as Marco approached his quarry.
He quickly sized her up, about 120 lbs, about five foot two inches tall. The siren was very close now as he reached out and tackled her and rolled with her into the bushes. Her intoxicated reaction only gave her enough energy to reply with a "hey!" as he took her. Her sandals flopped onto the grassy lawn near the bushes. He worked rapidly to restrain her, with her kimono. He was surprised how dainty she was, and in fact, she passed out before he tied her ankles.
The siren passed the road and headed straight up past the dorms. Someplace else it was headed, his heart was pounding... but he was not finished with her.
He carried her carefully, and slowly through the shrubs back to his dorm, and leaving her on the ground below his window, he leapt back up the fire escape and in seconds was back in his room, tying off a sheet, a belt and two pairs of jeans he made a lift. With some electrical chord he lowered it, making a mental note that he would have to do better than this next time, he dropped the two stories down and attached her to the harness. While she slept he hoisted her inches at a time into the room. It took nearly ten minutes. He would begin working out at the gym the following day due mostly to this excersize.
Once in the room he carefully lay Karen on her back, stripped her to her underwear and looked at her.
Then he put her Kimono back on. He sat and stared at her for an hour while she snoozed in blissful sleep.
Karen wasn't particularly beautiful, but she wasn't unattractive. She had always felt cheated about her size, but her shape was quite feminine and soft. Marco was wondering what was causing his hunting skill to malfunction he had never hunted a woman before, and certainly didn't know what to do with her now that he had captured her.
Suddenly, Marco became aware of a gut wrenching hunger. He quickly stood and sat at the same time clutching his abdomen, he bent over and rested a moment on his knees and realized that his mouth was watering at a smell. He leaned over and carefully sniffed Karen's neck, and Marco nearly convulsed with desire and raging hunger. Shocked by this turn of events he let his tongue touch her neck and shoulder, her taste, a bit salty was pure ecstacy. Again he stripped her. She was awakening slightly as he positioned himself over her feet. She lifted a hand drowsily to her face and moaned.
He let his tongue touch the big toe of her right foot and began to take it into his mouth. His eyes closed he simply let his body take over. An automatic drive took him over, and he watched in shock and with terrific bodily satisfaction as he swallowed her feet. Moving his head slowly from side to side he accepted her delicate ankles and firm small calves into his mouth. He could feel her feet touching him inside and he reached forward and held her hips and pulled her thighs into him. She was waking up and he couldn't imagine what would happen.
With great strength and with power he never knew was within him, he sucked her hips into his mouth. Felt her soft fleshy bottom with his teeth. She seemed to slip past his teeth and lips with ease after that, her eyes met his as she tried to scream, but instead only peeped out "What are you doing?"
Her small breasts were next and she pushed with her little hands against his face. "Don't you EAT me!" She seemed to be dreaming, or was he it who was dreaming. Her breasts slide in, followed by her slender neck, and then her face.
And she was gone. Her frail arms hung between his grossly streched lips her hands swung as she became dimly aware of her peril, she slipped further into him eaten like a mouse by a snake. Her fingers grabbed his lips as a last ditch effort to save herself like a woman hanging from a cliff. She slowly sobered deep in his esophagus.
His pleasure was orgasmic, and he understood the anaconda magic his grandfather had granted him, he fell onto his back and slept deeply into the morning.
This was the first of Marco's victims.
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