Posted by Sawney Beane on October 14, 2006 at 00:01:42:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #84
SUSHI GIRL
by Sawney Beane
2, 30 December 2001
2,882 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 consensual snuff and gynophagia as well as quite a lot of gore. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Another kind of restaurant, this one a sushi bar, and an American girl eager to break tradition and achieve her ultimate dream. Decent but a bit gory.
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"No, it is impossible!"
"But why not?" Jessica knew she sounded desperate. "Don't you think I'm good enough?"
The old chef sighed. "No, you are vely excellent girl. You make vely nice roast, vely succulent. I cook you myself, but not right for you be sushi girl."
"But why not?"
"Because you are not Japanese girl!"
"Why do I have to be Japanese to be a sushi girl?"
"Japanese girl smaller, have tender flesh. Vely important for sushi. Also, Japanese girl have sweet tasting meat. Perfect for sushi. Western girl good only cooked."
"I read somewhere that that's just a myth. How could Japanese flesh taste any different from American flesh?"
"Sushi expert can taste difference, and I only make best sushi."
"But this is America; we have anti-discrimination laws."
This gave the old chef pause. She had him there, and he certainly couldn't afford to get involved in a discrimination lawsuit. He abruptly changed his tactics. "I don't think you really want be sushi girl."
"Yes I do! I have dreamed all my life of being a sushi girl. It's the only thing I want to do!"
"Maybe, but you don't know what it takes be sushi girl."
"What do you mean?"
"Sushi girl is eaten alive."
"Yes! I know."
"That hurts being eaten, you know."
She was startled. Jessica had always assumed that the sushi girls were heavily anaesthetized like the live roasted men and women she'd seen so often.
The chef saw his advantage in the expression on her face and went in for the kill. "Sushi girl cannot use anaesthetic."
"Why not?"
"Anaesthetic corrupt flavour of sushi girl. Good sushi girls don't use anaesthetic."
"But how do they stand it?"
"Japanese sushi girl selected at very young age. Sushi girl study technique for controlling pain. Take long time. Sushi girl start when six year old to study mind control. Only after many year can she be ready. Every sushi girl tested when 20 year old. If she pass she can be sushi. If not she cannot."
"How are they tested?"
"Much pain. If she feel pain, she is not sushi girl."
"Can they teach me to not feel the pain?"
The old chef snorted at the ridiculous idea. "No! It take many year to master painlessness. You be too old when you stop feeling pain."
Jessica now faced the defining moment of her life. She had fantasized for years about being a sushi girl and had always planned to meet her end in this way. It was the only plan she'd ever had. On the other hand, this was apparently a significantly more painful proposition than she had suspected. Pressing forward would mean enduring unimaginable torture. She teetered on the brink of this decision. Should she back down and find another plan or should she push on regardless. She pressed on.
"Let me live for a month with the sushi girls. Ask them to teach me. I will learn in a month. Then you can test me, and then I'll be a sushi girl if I pass!"
The old chef was uncomfortable with this proposal, but it was looking like his best way out of this tricky predicament. She would never pass the test anyway, so he would not have to worry about her being a sushi girl.
"OK, but you going to regret this."
Jessica smiled, but there was uncertainty behind it. Had she made the correct decision?
Jessica was nervous. Her month had come and gone quickly, and now it was time for the big event. Not the main event, but the prerequisite. She was to be tested today. If she could prove that she was impervious to pain, her dreams would come true. If not, she would be rejected.
The sushi girls had been wonderful. Most of them spoke only broken English since they'd all been imported. Still, they welcomed her to their ranks and tried their best to teach her how they planned to face the excruciating pain of live sushi preparation. In some ways, the old chef had been right. She quickly found that one short month could not make up for fourteen years of intensive mind control study and meditation.
Jessica learned that sushi girls enter a sort of meditative trance state, which allows them to ignore the illusion of pain. By focusing their minds inwardly, they are able to see their bodies as do the chefs and patrons-as objects. Since objects do not feel pain, the sushi girl does not feel pain. She watches as her object body is turned into sushi, but she remains detached. In this way, the sushi girl not only endures but completely eliminates all pain.
Jessica was never going to master this in one month. Still, she was going to go through with the test. What else could she do?
She entered the testing room and undressed. The technician in the corner attached dozens of little patches to her body, many of which were attached to wires that connected to his equipment. It was with these that the technicians would test her pulse, respiration rate, body temperature, perspiration, and several other parameters that would indicate her response to the pain she would soon be subjected to. She was directed to sit in a special large chair in the centre of the room, and the test began almost immediately.
One factor worked much in Jessica's favour. Her body could not be damaged in any way, or the testing would ruin her potential to be a sushi girl. Thus, the tortures had to remain within a certain non-destructive realm. Nonetheless, the testers managed to dream up several dozen ways to inflict pain without damaging the body.
The test began with electrical shocks to various sensitive parts of her body. She thought she had lost it immediately when she gasped at the first hint of pain. However, her intense desire took over quickly. Unlike the Japanese sushi girls, Jessica was unable to block out the feeling of pain entirely, but was able to suppress it because she was so determined to achieve her ultimate goal. Her experience of the test became a fast-paced blur of undifferentiated agony barely beneath the surface of her consciousness. The dominant thought in her mind throughout was the image of herself enthroned in glory upon the altar of the sushi chefs. She endured.
At the end of the test, she was unstrapped and allowed to rest in the chair as the technician tabulated her performance. After a few minutes he announced solemnly that she had passed. Her scores were near the minimum allowable in each diagnostic, but she had made it through, barely. Relief wafted over her exhausted body.
The old chef, upon hearing the news, was almost beside himself with irritation, but he had no choice but to schedule her for a date with the sushi knives. He scheduled her for a Tuesday evening when the crowds were smaller and less demanding.
Jessica's long-awaited day came at last. She stood in her white kimono in the doorway to the sushi restaurant's big dining room. The restaurant went through at least two sushi girls a day, three on busy weekend evenings. Today Jessica would be the second and last.
She gazed distractedly at the large blood-stained platter that was being carried past her by three busy Japanese waitresses. The platter carried a pile of cleanly-picked bones that had once been Noriko, a friendly girl who had been especially eager to introduce Jessica to the mystic talents of the sushi girl. Jessica was unable to feel any sorrow as she saw the paltry remains of her friend. It was not an occasion for sorrow.
Jessica heard but barely comprehended as her name was announced over the restaurant's loudspeaker. Two Japanese waitresses appeared and led her down the red carpet from the door to the back kitchens to the stairs at one side of the sushi bar. Jessica heard the gasps of surprise and delight. Each new sushi girl received a very warm response, but Jessica thought that hers was especially enthusiastic due to her uniqueness. Was it extra enthusiasm or outrage from the traditionalists? Perhaps it was both.
The sushi bar itself was in the form of a large circle, about 30 feet across. Forty seats were spaced evenly all around the circle, each of them filled with an eager customer. A thin river flowed around the circle under a canopy of bamboo. On this river small wooden boats carried plates of sushi for customers to select at will. A few of these boats still carried the bits of flesh that were all that was left of Noriko, but most were by this time empty.
Inside the ring of boats was a wide counter on which the five sushi chefs would create their miracles and place them on the boats. Access to the inner ring was afforded by a small wooden staircase. The stairs rose to a small platform mounted above the sushi boat stream and descended to the counter within. An especially wide part of the counter on the opposite side waited to be filled by the next sushi girl.
Jessica climbed the stairs to the small platform. At the top, she bowed ceremoniously in the four directions and removed her kimono and sandals. As she stepped down the stairs to the inner counter, she completed her transformation from human to food. She walked slowly and carefully around the perimeter of the counter to the enthusiastic response of the patrons and, arriving at her final destination, sat waiting with her legs crossed and her hands folded modestly across her lap.
Jessica's mind raced. This was the moment she had gone over so many times in her head. She drank in the cheers of the forty customers around her, each of them thirsty for her blood. She felt the cool firmness of the steel counter beneath her shapely rump. She savoured the dread inspired by the approaching chef carrying a comically large carving knife. On the threshold of her impending death, she felt for the first time in her life fully the moment.
The customers clamoured for Jessica's flesh. In addition to the forty seated around her, dozens more cheered from the waiting room, impatiently waiting for some of the forty lucky ones to surrender their positions. Jessica imagined herself feeding this mass. In a few hours, her beautiful body would be dispersed among the many bellies of the hungry multitude. Tonight she would sleep in many beds.
The chef appeared at her side, and the moment of truth was upon her. She sat straight and steeled her mind as the chef, without speaking a word to her, grasped the nipple of her right breast with one hand and with a quick motion of his other hand passed the knife through her soft flesh. The sharp blade passed through without her feeling it at first. Her first realization that it was done was the sight of her ample bosom flying across the sushi bar and snatched out of the air by a chef on the other side. Her second indication was the warm blood trickling down her ribs and belly. Then, a few seconds later, the pain hit her-hard, sharp, and intense. Her vision blurred momentarily, and her mind whirled, but she regained her focus just in time to see her left breast launched into the hands of another eager chef. She felt nothing this time. The pain of the second wound adding nothing to that of the first.
Jessica would have lost it at this point, but the intensity of her desire took over. She drove the pain back to a manageable level and with immense effort regained and maintained her composure. She unfolded her legs and reclined on her back as she was supposed to do at this point. Now it was easy; all she had to do was lie here and endure whatever pain arose from the deconstruction of her exquisite body.
To her left she could see the sushi boats flowing around in their stream. At this point all were empty, the last traces of Noriko having been consumed in anticipation of the new queen of the sushi bar.
It was not long before new plates began to appear, each carrying four sushi rolls, black seaweed cylinders containing a bit of rice and a small ball of the uniquely textured and somewhat fatty inner contents of Jessica's breasts. She gazed at the blood-streaked white ingredient she had contributed to the delicacy. Over the years she'd tried almost all of the different kinds of girl sushi, and now she imagined the taste of this highly prized commodity. She stared fixated as one of the customers near her picked a plate off of a sushi boat and dipped one of her sushi rolls into soy sauce before popping it into his mouth. She watched the expression of pleasure that crossed his face and knew that she was responsible for his happiness.
Shortly a different kind of sushi began appearing on the plates alongside the breast meat rolls. Thinly sliced strips of the soft skin and meat of her breasts now topped rice formed into two-inch long cylinders. She regretted that she missed seeing the nipple rolls since these scarce delicacies were snatched up before they reached her side of the sushi bar.
Jessica wasn't sure how long her breasts had occupied the sushi chefs, but it couldn't have been very long. The chefs now made a move that led to Jessica's relatively short life on the sushi table. Normally, sushi girls lived for at least an hour into their destruction. The record was over two hours, with the entire deconstruction process taking around three hours. In fact, it was a matter of pride to sushi chefs to keep the sushi girls alive for as long as possible, and some rather extreme measures were resorted to in order to prolong the doomed lives. Nonetheless, Jessica was dead half an hour after her arrival on the chopping block.
This was no accident. The sushi chefs were still nervous about Jessica's appearance in this forum. Despite her surprising endurance of the qualification test, there was still a danger of her losing her self-control during the actual meal. This would have been embarrassing to all involved. Thus, after opening with the traditional breast removal, the chef carved a large slab of meat from Jessica's right thigh, reaching the bone and allowing her to lose quite a lot of blood. The chefs set about busily carving this meat into thin strips to serve up as sashimi. Jessica didn't even notice until the thigh meat began passing her in the boats. Her leg didn't hurt as much as her chest, so its agony therefore didn't exist.
Although her life was rapidly reaching its end, her last twenty minutes had a lot to keep her attention. The chef dropped the knife on her right wrist and on her right ankle, and soon she began seeing plates on the sushi boats carrying rolls that seemed to have her fingernails poking out of the tops of them. Other things she couldn't quite identify passed by and entered the bellies of the eager customers.
She did live to see the most peculiar delicacy of all served. Ten minutes before her end, the chef spread her legs and deftly carved out a triangle of flesh just above her genitals. This neatly relieved her of the well-groomed patch of pubic hair and exposed the bone behind it. The chefs sliced this meat extra thinly to create several dozen pieces of flesh each with a single row of pubic hairs extending from one side like enormous eyelashes. These were draped over rice rolls and began floating by Jessica's smiling face. She watched with delight as her customers devoured these morsels hair and all.
The chefs had also removed most of her actual genitalia but little of this made it to Jessica's view. The chef had her belly open and had passed on most of her abdomen to his colleague, but Jessica was too far immersed in her self-satisfied mist by this time to take much notice. She expired quietly just as the chef was pulling the first loops of her intestines out in order to make tripe rolls. The sushi bar had lived up to her expectations and exceeded them. Her last thoughts were joyous ones.
Jessica was gone from life, but her flesh remained and was depleted over the next three hours. Eventually, she, as Noriko before her, was reduced to a small pile of bones, a blood stain on the counter, and a smile on the faces of dozens of happy diners.
After she had gone, many of the diners applauded the management of the sushi restaurant for this daring new sushi girl. They requested that more non-Japanese sushi girls be offered in the future.
The grizzled old sushi chef knew that he had unwittingly unleashed something that he could never again control. The tradition of the sushi girl was changed, and it would never be the same again. Perhaps it was for the best, but the old chef could not help himself from harbouring a subtle sense of loss that evening.