Posted by Sawney Beane on July 23, 2006 at 21:53:26:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume 42
THE CONTRACT
by Sawney Beane
7 November 1992; 26 March 1995; 2, 14 December 1996
3,651 words
DISTRIBUTION NOTICE and DISCLAIMER: Sawney Beane requests that any distribution of this work of fiction remain within the realm of social responsibility. This story is suitable neither for minors nor for the seeming majority of adults who have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality. It is pure fantasy, which means that, for whatever reason, someone has found it interesting to think about the events depicted herein. It does not in any way mean that the author would like to see this fantasy become reality, so if you are the type of person who might be swayed into doing something irrational by reading a work of fiction, the author respectfully requests that you decline to read further.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sawney Beane, originally a native of Edinburgh, lived for twenty-five years in a cave on the coast of County Galloway, subsisting on the flesh of unfortunate travellers, roughly a thousand of them all told. He and his wife raised a large family of eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons, and fourteen granddaughters. Eventually, the family was captured, and the whole lot was brutally and unjustifiably tortured and executed without trial. Since his death in the early 17th century, Beane has reformed his ways and now confines his atrocities to his literary endeavours.
WARNING: This story contains scenes of snuff and cannibalism concerning consenting male and female victims. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a pretty old story that I finally got around to finishing. It was imagined way back in 1992 almost in the final form presented here. But, as is often the case with my old stories that take a long time to complete, it seems to have lost its charm for me.
--------------------------
I'm not sure why it happened, but I have a strong suspicion that it was my own fault. Alcohol always makes me a bit crazy, but that is no excuse.
I was having a very bad month. My fiancee had left me the day before for no apparent reason, aside from a few petty infidelities. I had lost my job less than a week before because of a faltering economy and my lack of productivity. My rent was overdue, and I had no money and no friends. In short, I was a mess.
I spent the better part of an evening down at the pub spending my last few quid on drinks, which lowered my inhibitions and allowed me to embarrass myself in front of everyone. That was smart.
After I had become completely pissed, I stumbled over to a group of seven of the world's most beautiful women and threw myself onto their table amidst a mass of flying pints and wineglasses.
In my most appalling moment, I cried in dramatic pain and declared that the world was not my friend, I was a complete failure, and that I might as well be hamburger. I invited them to enjoy the meal. I'm not at all sure where this idea came from, but it seemed rational at the time.
Three of the ladies were appalled by my actions, three were amused, and the seventh remained serious. She took my arm and began to gnaw on my wrist. This confused me beyond belief, and I eventually stumbled home and drifted off to sleep.
The phone woke me up around one in the afternoon. The female voice on the other end of the line declared decisively that she and her friends were willing to take me up on my offer. I didn't know what she was talking about. She explained my actions of the previous night. With some embarrassment, I stalled for time by telling her I would think about it and asked her to call back the next day.
I later discovered that the group of women had asked the barman for my name and address. I wasn't sure if they were serious or just playing with me. I was embarrassed either way.
The next day I had a foolproof plan. When the girl called, I agreed to their offer on the condition that I be granted one of them for my last meal. She didn't seem as shocked as I expected her to be. She said she would discuss it with the others and hung up. I never expected to hear from them again.
I was shocked beyond belief the following afternoon when the same woman called and informed me that my terms were acceptable. I didn't know what to do. There was a small element of pride involved. I didn't want to back out. However, I could have got over this. The thing that made my decision a difficult one was that I was very nearly suicidal at the time, and the seven women were likely to make my exit about as enjoyable as it could possibly be. I was surprised to hear myself accepting the offer and agreeing to visit their house on the following day to negotiate a contract. My stomach turned inside out as I put down the phone.
The house was an old three-bedroom frame house on the fringe of the local university campus. As it turns out all seven women were university students, and they all shared this house. I knocked on the door with trembling hands.
The serious one from the bar opened the door almost as soon as I knocked. She welcomed me and virtually dragged me into the living room. All seven women were assembled. Some of them seemed a bit pensive about the whole affair, but others, particularly my escort, seemed calm.
I was introduced to each in turn. My escort was named Samantha. She was tall with long dark hair, small breasts, dark brown eyes, and muscular limbs. She seemed to have a fondness for wearing black and was a law student. The small girl at the end of the sofa was named Tina. She had curly blonde hair and was a chemistry graduate student. Next to Tina was Cindy. Cindy smiled at me with a gleam in her eye. She was medium height and had large breasts, blue eyes, and long wavy brown hair. She was a medical student. Irene was the third woman on the sofa. She was a tiny Asian girl with a nervous smile and long hair. She was a philosophy student and in the middle of writing a thesis on ethics. The easy chair supported another Black-haired beauty. This one was named Michelle. She had dark uneasy eyes, medium build, and a bright toothy smile. Michelle was a biology undergraduate. Elizabeth was an attractive flat-chested redhead. She stood by the door to the kitchen. Elizabeth was an English major. Finally, Jennifer, an engineering student, sat in the chair by the door. She had overdone blonde hair, a confident smile, and a marvellous small body.
After everyone had introduced themselves, I stood in the middle of the room nervously. What was I to say? Samantha offered me a chair and handed me a stack of papers. It was a contract that she had drawn up for me to sign. I won't get into the details, but it was a tremendous document filled with a detailed set of terms and conditions for my voluntary bodily surrender. I was to select one of them for my reward by a random method and live in the house as the unfortunate girl's lover for one month. At the end of that period, I would put her to death and eat her gradually over the course of the next month, during which time I would also have intercourse with one of the other six women each day. Then, after having lived in the house for two months, I would be put to death and enjoyed by the six surviving women. It was bizarre. But Samantha was serious and handed me a pen.
I signed. Don't ask me why. Then, each of the seven women signed the contract in turn. I wondered why they would take such a risk for me. Then Samantha brought out a handful of straws and showed them to me. Six long ones and a short one were presented to my view. Then, each of the women picked one. Everything was moving so fast; it felt so unreal.
Six of the women breathed a sigh of relief. Irene stared expressionlessly at the short straw in her hand. She was the unlucky one, but she was restraining her fear and disappointment well if she was experiencing either. Then she stood, walked to me, knelt before my chair, and said with a bowed head in a meek little voice "Gary, I am yours." I took her hand, and she sat beside me calmly.
It was arranged for me to remain at the house. I didn't even go home for any of my personal belongings. I didn't need anything much. The women were determined to keep me nude as much as possible. That rule took effect immediately after the selection ceremony. They cheered as I disrobed shyly, and they admired my body in a horribly embarrassing way. Irene opted to go nudist as well, and I was pleased to have the company.
The house had two upstairs bedrooms and one bedroom on the ground floor. Samantha and Elizabeth moved their things out of the downstairs bedroom and replaced Irene as Jennifer's roommate. Cindy, Michelle, and Tina remained undisturbed in the larger upstairs bedroom. Irene and I were moved into the ground floor bedroom. It was comfortable enough. I thus began the most unusual period of my life.
Despite the horrible aspects to come, the first month of my tenure at that strange house was the most wonderful month of my life. Irene turned out to be a fabulous lover. It's really indescribable, but she did everything exactly right. Even more unusual, we became very good friends over the course of the month. Within twenty days, I had decided that when the time came, I would give up my claim on her life and allow the women to do me in at the end of the first month. I didn't tell anyone about this resolution, however.
As it turned out, the other girls left Irene and me pretty much to ourselves. We all ate together, Elizabeth and Tina being excellent cooks. I was not, however, free to spend all of my time with Irene, because she was determined to finish her philosophy thesis before the end of the month. While she was working, I chatted with the other girls or watched television. I soon lost all self-consciousness about my nudity and even began to enjoy the effect I had on my female hosts. After all, the one thing I did have going for me was my good looks.
Strange things were happening in the house in those days. Jennifer designed and built a sturdy table on which a person could be securely strapped down before being snuffed. A shiver ran up my spine every time I looked upon the contraption. Samantha was making arrangements that I could only imagine, and Cindy was honing her surgical skills just for Irene and myself.
Three days before Irene's scheduled departure from this world, I broke the news to her. I told her that she would not have to die, that I would take her place. The look she gave me was puzzling. There was love and gratitude in her face, but there was also sadness and sympathy.
"I can't let you do that," she said tonelessly.
We talked most of the night on this topic, and the results were entirely unsatisfactory. It was a conversation that left no doubt in my mind that she was a philosophy major. She even showed me parts of her thesis to support her points. It so happens that the entire thesis was designed to prove that there is an internal reason for keeping one's word under any circumstances. This necessity was not based on anything beyond the person herself, but it was immensely powerful. The thing is, I couldn't understand a word of it, but Irene was deeply motivated by the whole thing. The result was that she felt she could not for moral reasons let me let her off the hook.
So it was decided. She would have to die for me, even though I despised the idea. What could I do? It was a horrible situation, and it hurt me all the more to realize that, unlike myself, Irene didn't have any death wish. She had only an overpowering need to keep her word even unto death.
There was one thing she wanted, however, and I was happy to grant her this last request. She was unhappy that she would not get to taste my flesh as would the other six girls. This was entirely unfair, since it was her sacrifice that was making it possible for them to consume me. I agreed to let her amputate a part of my body to serve as her last meal. We agreed upon my feet, which didn't sound all that appetizing to me, but she felt it was the most logical choice. Irene arranged everything the next morning with the other girls.
The day before Irene's scheduled departure, I found myself on my back strapped to Jennifer's contraption in the spacious kitchen. Irene had dropped off her thesis at the graduate school early that morning so that she could be by my side at this trying moment. Cindy was prepared to perform the surgery and would be assisted by Tina and Michelle. They administered a general anaesthetic as I heard Irene tearfully thanking me for this favour. I drifted off to sleep with my eyes and nostalgic thoughts on my doomed feet.
Now there is something I should explain here. I was convinced that this foot amputation was merely a ruse by Irene to escape her obligation. I shouldn't have thought so badly of her, but I thought it, or maybe just hoped it. I was sure that Irene wanted to have the girls snuff me while I was anaesthetized for the foot surgery. That way she could go back on her word without me ever knowing about it. Now it is amazing to me that I could so underestimate her ethical commitment, but I did go to sleep on that operating table fully expecting to never wake up again.
I did wake up though. It wasn't a very pleasant return to consciousness. Every part of me ached, and my head was pounding. My eyes seemed glued closed, and my mouth felt dry. When I had struggled to a half-coherent awareness, I saw that I was still on my back on the operating table in the kitchen, but I was no longer strapped down. I blinked a few times and looked over to the adjacent kitchen table and saw that Irene was enjoying a meal. She smiled at me as I stirred, and I had difficulty identifying the food on her plate. After a few more minutes, I recognized the shape and looked down my legs. Both of my feet were missing, and the whole episode returned to my memory. As it turned out, Cindy had done a great job of sewing up the wounds and bandaging my ankles. Irene was lunching on my left foot, and my right was ready to go into the oven for her dinner. I think I fainted at that point.
When I came to again, it was late in the evening. Dinner was long over, but I wasn't hungry anyway. Irene was tearfully thanking me for her last two meals, and my throbbing head regained its awareness of the intolerable situation. I again pleaded with Irene to relent, but there was nothing that I could say to shake her resolution.
We passed the night as pleasantly as possible under the circumstances. We did have sex, but neither of us was much in the mood for it. Mostly we just talked about life and other fleeting pastimes. Irene drifted off to sleep around three in the morning, and I stared for a long while at the slow rising and falling of her small breasts. Her delicate features revealed an expression of peacefulness that seemed unlikely at this point in her short life. I finally fell asleep two hours later.
We were awakened early the next morning by Samantha. I knew from the first moment of consciousness that this was to be the worst day of my life. At the pre-arranged hour, we were again in Cindy's makeshift kitchen operating room, but it was Irene who was strapped to the table this time. She had tears in her eyes, but she was trying to put on a brave face for my benefit. We kissed, and she told me not to feel guilty and to enjoy the gift she was giving me. In response to her persistent urgings, I promised that she would be my favourite food and that I would not let any of her body go to waste.
Tina and Michelle administered the anaesthetic, and Irene fell into a deep sleep that would last an eternity. Cindy picked up the scalpel and handed it to me. She did not intend to be her friend's executioner, but I was even less inclined. It was Samantha who finally took the deadly instrument and made an incision across Irene's soft neck. There was blood flowing everywhere, but Cindy managed to collect most of it. Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched the life trickle from my lover's throat. Afterwards, I dragged myself to my room and refused to speak to anyone until I was forced to come to dinner.
Michelle, Jennifer, and Samantha had seen to the butchering operation. I don't know how it proceeded, but Irene's corpse was dismantled and in the freezer before I was brought back to the kitchen for dinner. I approached my first taste of human flesh with mixed feelings. I was curious about how it would taste, and I didn't find the idea inherently repulsive at all. Still, I felt I was doing an injustice to Irene in consuming her flesh in that way, even though I knew that the damage had already been done and wasting her would have been even more cruel.
So I stared at the first of many cannibalistic meals I would partake of. The small round steak on my plate was unmistakably a part of Irene's delicate thigh. I cut a piece with my knife and placed the morsel on my tongue. I closed my eyes and drank in the flavour of Irene's beautiful flesh. She was delicious! I would not for a moment suggest that the meat was worth the cost, but it was absolutely wonderful, and I knew that my promises would be kept. That night I slept alone with my tears and strangely conflicting thoughts.
After the senseless slaying of the beautiful Asian philosophy student, our room became mine alone. Beginning on the second night, I was accompanied to sleep with each of the six remaining students in a strict rotation. All of them were attractive, so my sex life became varied and exciting. The first night I had Samantha, who, not surprisingly, turned out to be a very dominant lover. It was a good beginning because I was in no mood to take the reins that night, but with her leading we both enjoyed ourselves. The second night was Elizabeth who was very meek, but still wonderful. Tina, Michelle, Jennifer, and finally Cindy passed through my bedroom before we began the cycle again. Each was unique, and each was a joy to sleep with.
Throughout the month, all of my meals had a familiar feature. I dined morning, noon, and night upon the flesh of my dearly departed lover. Tina and Elizabeth prepared the meat in as many different ways as they could imagine, each more delicious than the last. I did feel horribly strange whenever it came time to consume a bit of meat that was recognizable as part of Irene's body, but I overcame my revulsion and was able to enjoy the meals.
Despite the pleasures of this month, I look forward to the end. I know that my guilt over Irene's death will not be soothed until I am on the chopping block myself. It will be very similar to Irene's death I expect, but there will be no tears. And if I'm half as delicious as lovely Irene is, these six women are in for a treat.
So we are almost arrived at my final moment. Early tomorrow morning they will strap me to the table and slit my throat, and I will become meat. Who knows; it might prove to be my greatest talent. So, I bid good-bye to the universe. It has been fun at times, but not as often as I would have liked. I hope that Irene is resting in peace, and I especially hope that if there is an afterworld, Irene and I can get together and be friends again.
A post-script written by Samantha Stengel, esq.:
I just had to add a few lines after I read Gary's memoirs. Everything happened just as he described, except that I went through and changed all of our names for obvious reasons. In fact, Gary seems to have had incredible insight into things that he was not privy to.
He was right in believing that my initial call to him was a cruel prank. It might not have gone any further than that except he wasn't recanting, and I just had to push him to the edge. At the same time, I started having fantasies about consuming him. He wasn't bad looking after all, and I must admit to having had cannibalistic fantasies for most of my life. The others were willing to play along, and I managed to keep them going until the end.
It is also true that our drawing of straws was never intended to result in the death of one my friends. If it had been anyone other than Irene, we would have given him a month to remember and then backed out at the last minute and let him go home. It wasn't as if we had a legally enforceable contract. But Irene had her hang-ups, and, unfortunately, she was willing to die for them. The night we amputated Gary's feet, I begged Irene to let us snuff him, but she wouldn't have anything to do with that.
So we ended up killing Irene, which was a terrible shame in itself, and we then had to go on and kill Gary. The other girls weren't as excited as I was about actually eating someone. It wasn't until they were cooking Gary's feet for Irene that they knew we were actually going to go through with it. But they came around after they had their first taste of Gary's meat, a few bites of that initial meal that Irene had donated to each of us. By the time he was done, they were wishing he'd been a bigger fellow.
Finally, Gary's death was a pretty calm affair. As he predicted, he wasn't shedding any tears for himself and did everything willingly to the end. Cindy chickened out again, and I had to slit Gary's throat, but everything was smooth after that. He was a damn good-tasting man. I doubt we'll ever have such an opportunity drop into our laps again, and I'm glad we took advantage of this one, even if silly little Irene had to die for it.