Elle Needs to Eat

Tanaka-san pointed at the box where Ellie should put her clothes. All her clothes.

"American girls are very popular in China this season," Tanaka said. He was a short, stocky man, with a large potbelly that he liked to stroke as he talked. He grinned and nodded his head. His English was impeccable.

Elle nodded graciously. She knew he meant the new television season in China. Tanaka-san was the producer of the most popular Japanese reality game show in the world-Winning is Everything-and the Chinese market was the next big gold rush. All of her Stanford classmates knew these simple facts. The show required each contestant to strip nude and then live by their wits in an apartment with limited supplies. Contestants could only resupply their apartments by winning provisions from online contests.

"To win," Tanaka-san continued, "a girl must be resourceful. Meticulous. Determined." With each word, he tapped his fist into his palm. Elle stifled a yawn. The flight from the States had been long and dull, and she already knew what she needed to do to win.

And she would win.

She had bet big on winning.

She'd dropped out of Stanford for this. She had asked her fiancée, Markus, to support her as she flew to Tokyo, became a contestant, and fought to become the next big reality TV sensation for the Asian television market. With her background in marketing, Elle felt certain she could parlay her fame into a series of lucrative sponsorships.

"And," Tanaka-san said, holding up a finger and pausing dramatically. "A winning girl must have a nice ass." He chuckled lewdly, rubbing his tummy.

A great wave of unease washed over her, but she chuckled politely. Japanese television men were, as a general rule, incredibly sexist. Tanaka-san was no different.

Tanaka picked up the box and held it out. Waited.

Elle's mouth went dry.

Of course, she had already known about the nudity and the sexism of the show. In her marketing classes, students discussed endlessly the culture of accommodating male desire. She removed her top and stood before Tanaka-san in her bra. Handing him her shirt, she exhaled and felt the tension drain from her shoulders. In the back of her mind, she held onto a vague idea about using male privilege to fight male privilege. But, in reality, her motivation was simpler than all that-Elle wanted to win.

"Oh," Tanaka-san said, a sheepish look on his face. "I almost forgot." He used his phone to turn on a giant television attached to the wall. Elle saw herself, standing in her bra. She understood this was the image of herself that a billion Chinese viewers- mostly men-were seeing. Tanaka-san dutifully explained all the things she already knew. There was an around-the-clock internet audience, but also a studio audience for the weekly show. The voice of the show's host suddenly came from the TV, filling the room. He spoke Japanese, so Elle couldn't understand any of his words, but she understood the cheering of the audience, which soon changed to a rhythmic clapping chant.

Tanaka-san stopped talking and smiled.

Elle felt a small swell of fear mixed with excitement. They wanted her nude. She slipped her pants down her thighs. The broadcast was behind a paywall and only meant for Asian audiences, so her dignity would be preserved-well, somewhat preserved. Throughout Asia her respectability would be forever tainted. It would be worth it, Elle had already decided. Her pants went into the box, along with her shoes. Her panties and bra. Her phone, everything.

Elle stood facing Tanaka-san, one arm covering her nipples, a hand over her pubic patch. Her firm ass suddenly appeared on the big screen in front of her.

She peered over her shoulder to find the camera.

There was much cheering.

Her face started to heat up. She watched her cheeks glow red on the screen. Tanaka-san used the camera on his phone to broadcast close-ups of her cleavage. There was an animated overlay on the left side of the screen that provided a visual metaphor of audience response. Right now, it was showing rockets gliding into the air. Elle dropped her arms. The rockets began bursting into colorful star patterns and the crowd roared its approval. Elle grinned. She was glad Markus would never see these images. He would not approve of her using her body this way. Placing her hands on her hips, Elle felt a dirty little thrill as Tanaka-san used his phone to broadcast images of her pubic patch. He gave her the signal and she obediently turned and put her hands on her knees so that he could broadcast images of her most private places. On the left side of the screen, a tiny plant sprouted out of the ground and then soared upwards, expanding in girth and length until it transformed into a thick, sturdy oak.

Elle loved it. She had never used her body quite like this before and it was intoxicating. She quickly grew comfortable with being naked all the time, with having the cameras always on. With an around-the-clock audience.

Soon she even grew accustomed to the loneliness and the isolation.

To deal with the boredom, she masturbated. At first, she did this in the middle of the night in the hopes that only a few people who were awake at that time might see her engaged in such a private act. But then those clips of her masturbating were replayed during the weekly broadcast. A highlight of the coverage was an image of Elle's face twisted into an ugly mask of passion-her sex face. Elle was mortified, but her approval ratings soared. She soon realized she could masturbate to pass the time and improve her ratings. One of the fans sent her a vibrator. Another sent her lube. Elle knew these gifts were an aspect of the Asian television market that Markus would never understand. So, she kept them to herself.

Markus chatted with her once a week on the computer. During these video calls, they often masturbated together. Unknown to Markus, these conversations were broadcast live with subtitles, making them ethically tricky for Elle to participate in, but she desperately longed to hear his voice.

On one of their first calls, Markus had whispered: "Can they see this?"

He was sitting halfway across the world, leaning forward into the lens of his laptop, which made his eyes and the bridge of his nose loom comically large across the entire screen.

Elle was panting, her laptop on the floor between her legs. "I... I..." she husked, not wanting to tell an outright lie.

"I would hope not!"

A ripple of noisy laughter came from the TV.

"What was that noise?" Markus asked.

"It's just the TV," Elle said, rising to her feet. She raced across the room to mute the broadcast. The laughter grew louder and then suddenly went silent. On the left side of the screen, a large disembodied hand wagged its finger at Elle. Gazing into the camera, she gave the audience an exasperated look, smirked, and then made a hand gesture for quiet. The hand transformed into a cartoon imp with a huge erection. The imp winked knowingly at Elle, giving her a big thumbs up.

Elle felt certain she would win. She was the obvious crowd favorite, and she fully intended to claim her crown.

And then, about six weeks in, Elle ran into trouble.

She couldn't win any online contests. Her supplies dwindled. Her ratings dropped. During the weekly show, the left side of the monitor showed a lonely tumbleweed rolling along, or sometimes little soap bubbles rising into the air and making silent, dry pops.

She hadn't eaten for two days.

Tanaka-san called. "What is your plan?"

"I don't know," Elle said.

Her competitor was a Scandinavian prostitute in another apartment across town who had just won a lifetime supply of chocolate syrup. Elle watched as the pale-skinned whore slipped into a bathtub filled with the gooey brown liquid and gorged herself on it, rubbing it across her tits, licking it off her fingers.

The audience showed its appreciation with a volcanic eruption of support.

Tanaka-san offered a plan. He would send over a dozen men to her apartment, and she could fellate them all, one after another, and eat their cum. China would LOVE such a performance. A pretty little American girl gorging herself on Asian semen. Her ratings would soar, giving her heart's desire.

She would win!

Elle couldn't believe her ears. Her face felt hot. Her hunger made it hard to think. Could she do such a thing? No, she could not. Her resolve on the matter lasted about twelve hours. During this time, she thought about her mother. Her father. She thought about her classmates at Stanford and her career. Finally, she thought about losing. Not just he game but everything.

She sent Tanaka-san a one-word message.

"Okay."

She would fellate a dozen men.

A great calm settled over her as she waited nude on the couch.

Markus popped into her mind, but she pushed him away. They had an open relationship. If she were to ever tell him, he would understand. He would have to. But he would never get the chance to forgive her because she would never tell him. It was just too tawdry.

She told herself she would win her prize, claim her recognition, and then they would get married. She was making a sacrifice, she reasoned, and she was making it for both of them, so they could have all the security that being the next big reality TV sensation for the Asian television market could bring.

There was a knock at the door.

Elle took a deep breath. Tanaka-san stood in the hallway surrounded by a pack of young men. She shielded her nipples and pubic patch with her hands. It was one thing to remain nude in the empty apartment, all alone, but quite another to stand nude in front of a host of strangers.

None of the men could meet Elle's eyes.

Tanaka-san grinned.

The men entered, each bowing. Elle returned their bows, hiding her nipples and pussy. Some of the men returned Elle's bow, and then she was forced to bow yet again. It was awkward, tentative. The men removed their shoes and stood along the walls in the main room. There were more than twelve. Fat men, skinny men. Men who looked like university students. Men who looked as if they had just finished a shift at some factory. Office men who wore collared shirts and ties. Where did Tanaka-san get so many men on such short notice?

He took Elle by the wrist, leading her to a middle-aged man who seemed hesitant. Elle smiled coyly, taking his hand. Tanaka-san spoke in Japanese. The middle-aged man laughed.

"I told him you are hungry," Tanaka-san said.

Tanaka-san gave her the Japanese word for "hungry" and she knelt before the middle-aged man. She opened his fly and fished out his cock. He was only half hard. Her shoulders slumped. Looking around the room, she didn't see another man in a more aroused state.

She laughed nervously. Could she do this?

She put her mouth on his prick. He had a musky aroma. He did not get hard. She licked his balls, the underside of his penis. Looking into his eyes, she said she was a hungry slut. She used the Japanese word Tanaka-san had given her. The prick of the middle-aged man started to swell. She enveloped him with her warm mouth and began her labor.

Wet noises filled the room.

The men around her took off their pants. A few pulled their shirts over their heads. They remained in their underwear a good distance from her, craning their necks to watch her suck.

Elle was exhausted. Her hunger was so great she could hardly think. She wondered how she would ever satisfy all the others. Finally, the middle-aged man took his penis in his hand and started to stroke himself.

Elle felt so relieved.

She hunkered down, raised her chin, and extended her tongue. Looking into the lens of Tanaka-san's phone, she knew she would see the images he was capturing on the weekly broadcast. She smiled slyly, thinking about the cartoon reaction her behavior would elicit from the studio audience.

The middle-aged man gave up his cream. It had a strong odor and she eagerly collected it in her mouth, cupping her hands under her chin. When he finished, she scooped the head of his small penis into her mouth and licked him clean.

Tanaka-san insisted she present what was in her mouth. She opened, swallowed, then opened again. Tanaka-san grinned.

Elle's head was spinning.

The middle-aged man petted her head. He didn't want her to rise from her knees. He spoke to the others in Japanese. As a man became ready, he approached Elle and jacked off into her mouth. None were allowed to approach until they were close to ejaculation. They stood against the walls of the apartment with their hands down their underwear. After each man fired into her mouth, Tanaka-san recorded her swallow. She showed the camera her mouth twice. First her cream-filled mouth, then her pink tongue. If semen had landed in her open palms, she licked that clean too. Sometimes Elle would find herself waiting on her knees for a man to climax and then another man would approach in urgent need. When this happened, Elle collected the juice from both men before she turned to Tanaka-san to record her swallow.

Her temples throbbed, her heart raced.

The semen had a rich earthy odor. It had a medicinal smell, or sometimes it reminded her of cleaning products. Her body grew warm from swallowing so much semen. She sweated. As a new man approached and began fisting his penis, she made little whimpering noises. The middle-aged man stroked her moist brow, whispering soothing words.

Adrenalin coursed through her body. Her mind went blank. The middle-aged man used her mouth to relieve himself a second and then, eventually, a third time. Other men may have approached multiple times, too, but she couldn't be sure.

The night went on.

Elle knew she had become a plaything for the show. An eager little American cum slut. It turned her on and it made her sad all at the same time. She mewled as she waited for the next man's deposit.

Finally, the middle-aged man took the dominant position with her once again, flailing his modest-sized penis into her open mouth. Elle raised her chin. It took him forever and then when he eventually did orgasm, nothing came out.

Elle looked at Tanaka-san confused.

He laughed.

The middle-aged man laughed. The other men were pulling on their pants or tugging their shirts over their heads. The mood in the room seemed to change somehow. The urgency was gone. Everyone seemed sated. Informal and cool. Elle felt in some way demoted by this change in the atmosphere. The middle-aged man hiked his boxers and said something that amused all the other men but that Elle couldn't understand.

"Congratulations," Tanaka-san said.

Elle rose to her feet on shaky legs. Her tummy felt full, but it wasn't the satisfaction that comes from a good meal. Tanaka-san said she was a winner, but she didn't feel like a winner. The men hurried out the door in small groups of two and three. The middle-aged man had dressed. Now he stood at the door and saw the men off, either clapping them on the back or sometimes bowing slightly.

"He feels responsible for you," Tanaka-san whispered.

Elle narrowed her eyes.

Tanaka-san dismissively waved his hand. He said the middle-aged man wasn't actually responsible for her but that he was just following Asian customs.

The last of the men left.

The middle-aged man turned to Elle. He gave her a wistful, appraising look that was so unabashedly lewd, she had to look away. Tanaka-san smirked. When she turned back to the middle-aged man, he was gone too.

Tanaka-san congratulated her again and left.

Elle was uncomfortable in her body for a long time. She didn't understand what had happened with her and the middle-aged man, and so she didn't know how to process it. Her body discomfort soon took her mind off her troubles with the man. The taste of semen remained in her mouth no matter how many cups of water she drank. She tried to focus on earning new sweepstakes, but her mind kept returning to images of men jacking off into her mouth.

She had a fitful sleep.

In the morning, she had to sit on the toilet for a long time to expel a watery stool. The stench was horrible. Afterward, she had to open all the windows to air out the apartment.

She was incredibly hungry when a delivery roused her. Outside her door lay a huge, heavy package. She dragged it into the apartment and ripped it open before the camera. Inside she found a frozen goose packed in dry ice. An online admirer who'd watched her performance had sent it express delivery.

Tears welled in her eyes.

She bowed dozens of times to the camera, the goose.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

She put the frozen bird into the bathtub to thaw it out. She ran hot water until the tap went cold. She straddled the goose, rubbing herself on its frozen back. Cobbling together a tinfoil apparatus in which to roast it, she made the oven ready. She had to improvise a ladle for basting. The roasting took forever. Soon the apartment filled with the smell of roast meat. Finally, finally. She dragged that golden-brown bird into the living room and sat cross-legged before a camera.

Elle tore off meat with her bare hands and stuffed it into her mouth. Nothing had ever tasted this good. It was savory and delicious. She ate steadily for a long time without speaking. She licked the fat from her fingers. Grease collected on her hands and she wiped on her thighs.

The show came on the TV.

Elle was sucking on a leg bone, already cleared of meat. Animal fat and drippings hung from her hair. She had won. Tossing the bone into the pan with the carcass, she lay back on the floor with her legs spread.

The camera spanned the studio audience in the show's familiar opening sequence. Audience members were clapping and laughing, mugging for the camera. On stage stood the host, wearing an expensive suit and holding a microphone. He welcomed the studio audience and those watching at home.

A large screen dropped down behind the host. The screen contained a video image of Elle in her apartment, sprawled lewdly out on the floor.

Elle grinned. A warm rush of emotion enveloped her. Tonight she would get her crown. She would soon be the next big reality TV sensation for the largest television market in the entire world. Tanaka-san strolled out onto the stage with the host. Elle turned to face the camera.

A spotlight shone on a man sitting alone on the stage.

The lighting changed and it was Markus. Elle watched her own brows knit together on the large screen behind Markus.

Her blood ran cold.

Tanaka-san introduced Markus to the studio audience. The audience cheered. Markus looked like he had been hit by a train. His eyes were red and swollen. He held himself protectively as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. Tanaka-san explained to the studio audience that he had flown Elle's boyfriend in from the United States for this episode.

The audience tittered with glee.

Elle sat up, closing her legs. Breathing in short, quick gasps, her mouth went dry. She knew only too well what was about to happen, as did the studio audience. She was going to be humiliated. Disgraced in front of a live studio audience. Tanaka-san announced that she had sucked off more than a dozen men and swallowed their semen.

Markus looked at his shoes.

Elle wondered if she were dreaming. She watched her expression on the large screen: her eyes were vacant, her mouth slightly ajar. Watching herself on the TV made her feel disconnected to herself. The image changed to a video of the previous night. She nervously greeted all the men. A close up of all their shoes lined up at the door. And then her kneeling for the first time. Markus refused to look at the screen. Tanaka-san stood nearby, a hand on Markus's shoulder. A highlight reel of her swallowing semen played on the screen behind them. Tanaka-san narrated in a good-natured voice but there really wasn't much to say. He was mostly just fucking with Markus.