Fifi Foxx Maneaters

Date 18-08-2021, 00:57
Model: Fifi Foxx

quot;Do you have any idea why you’re here?” the blond asks. You knew it was too good to be true. Why on earth would five beautiful women put out an ad looking for a lonely, boring guy like you? Now you’re stuck in an uncomfortable situation with five women who have cold, emotionless eyes.
“Do you realize you are nothing but a parasite on this earth?” she continues. You nervously watch as the pink haired girl spins a big knife against her index finger. “That women are superior…”
“And that we eat things like you MEN…pathetic men…for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” she explains. Then it hits you. You’re trapped, they’re feminazis, and they want to dispose of you. Their goal…to rid the earth of men one man at a time.
“We’re gonna just chop you right up,” the pink haired stranger says, jamming her knife down hard into a piece of celery. “I bet you taste so delicious,” the blond says, running her tongue against your skin.
“He’s very plain…he’s missing something,” she says to the girls. The other radical feminists rush to get spices from the stove top, and then begin sprinkling them all over you.
“You know what’s good about this one?” the purple haired girl says to the others. “He’s not muscly…he’s not a man’s man. No, he’s a little computer geek, so he’s all tender.” One of the feminists grabs your arm and runs her tongue against it.
Your heart is racing and you’re sweating, but you have no idea what to do. If you try and run, you know they’ll get you. The constant reminder that a big blade is facing you keeps you still, and the girls shove an apple in your mouth to keep you quiet.
“You have no place here, but a plate,” they tell you. The women talk about carving and slicing you up to take out your organs and then stuffing you. “Should we take out his bones?” the blond asks. “Oh no, we can make his bones into some stew,” the pink stranger replies.
After they’ve had their fun taunting and torturing you, and deciding your delicious fate, it’s time to knock you out. The blond places her hand over your nose and mouth as you struggle, and you eventually pass out.
You wake up crammed inside of an oven as the five women stare back at you. “Are you ready to be cooked alive?” the blond says enthusiastically. She closes the oven door, and that’s the end of you.
After they’ve consumed you, the feminazis stand around, their bellies big and bulging, rubbing their full stomachs after a delicious meal. They talk about where to find their next meal. After all, it’s one man at a time…for breakfast, lunch, and dinner until they’re extinct