Evan started to wake up, but he had a dream. He dreamed he'd gone to some secret club to conduct an inspection because they needed human expertise. There, they secretly drugged him and took nude photos. What a messed-up dream.
He tried to move, but he felt tied up. He wanted to say something, but he felt something in his mouth. He felt irritated. His mind flashed to Frida and her penchant for such things.
When he opened his eyes, he realized he was still asleep. He was in some luxurious room with dark wood paneling, burgundy wallpaper, and carpeting. Sconces glowed on the walls.
He began to moan through his gag; it was like he was in his dream.
"He woke up."
He looked in the direction of the voice. Standing before him was the black, foxy bartender. He wanted to scold him, but he couldn't say anything. He could only moan through the gag.
He pointed at him. Evan followed his finger and saw him kneeling naked on a pedestal decorated with flowers. Around the pedestal was a railing with burgundy rope. Like in some museum.
He saw a sign in front of him.
"Excellent."
He glanced to the side. He saw another black fox, very similar to the bartender, only in a chef's uniform.
Next to him stood a white fox in an extravagant white dress, a glass full of red wine in her hand. She didn't look like an Arctic fox. More like a bleached version of Callisy. Leucism? She stood before him and smiled with satisfaction.
"She looks much better in person than in the photos."
She turned to the cook.
"Sable, are you sure you can handle this?" The cook walked around him a few times and touched him in a few places.
"No problems, Madame White. I already have a few ideas." He offered a few recipe suggestions. Evan groaned through his gag. "Are they going to eat him again?! He disagrees!"
"Good. Sable, Vermilion, do your best, and you'll be rewarded. Now leave us alone for a moment."
Both black foxes bowed and left with smiles. Evan continued howling through his gag until the vixen motioned for him to stop.
"First, introduce yourself. Aurelia Albedibe, here they call me Madame White."
Evan looked at her, begging for release.
"I'll answer directly. Your sheep friend doesn't know about this place."
Evan paused, surprised.
"The text message that arrived in your inbox was fake. SMS spoofing, I think it's called. A few hacking tricks and a few expressions of gratitude. As for the green zone sign at the entrance, that was also fake. As for this place, it doesn't technically exist."
Evan shuddered, as much as his bonds would allow.
"In short. This is an illegal club, and your consent or lack thereof has no bearing on us."
Evan groaned. He'd been tricked. He should have called back. Before he could think any further, his captor spoke again.
"Why?" I'll explain in a moment.
She sipped from her glass of wine.
"You see, you, the council, and the world live in a kind of cognitive bias. Consent is an illusion. A delusion imposed on the world by the weak or the indecisive. There are only three groups: meat-eaters, meat-eaters, and servants."
She pointed at him.
"And you, I am the rarest and most luxurious meat in the entire world. You should be cooked and served in the way you deserve... But these four girls..."
A look of disgust appeared on the fox's face.
"Meat-love affairs. Foolish girls. Especially that Vulpine and her entire family. Instead of playing games of affection and love affairs, they should simply cook and eat."
Anger and disgust filled her voice.
"Waste. Mindless Waste."
Evan howled through his gag. He refused to insult the girls. The vixen said to the side.
"Sable. Vermilion."
A moment later, the brothers returned.
"I'm almost done. You can cover him up."
"Yes, sir."
A curtain began to descend from above Evan.
"Don't worry. You're in good hands. Sable is a talented chef. You'll be proud to be the main course at our banquet."
Then she licked her fingers.
"I guarantee you'll be a delicious culinary masterpiece."
A moment later, a velvet curtain enveloped Evan.
***
For a while, Evan tried to fight against his bonds, but it was useless. He could barely move, let alone reach anywhere with his hands. He was practically a living exhibit in a gallery.
Around him was a curtain, through which he couldn't see anything. He could only hear sounds. Something like quiet conversations.
As he sat there, surrounded by his velvet top hat, he wondered if it wasn't an exaggeration that everyone was saying it was delicious. After all, ever since he arrived here, they'd always been talking about how delicious people were. Seriously, are people that delicious?
As he pondered this, he heard a sound like several tappings on a glass, followed by the voice of a black fox.
"Attention, everyone."
A silence fell. Then the art dealer began to speak in a solemn, theatrical tone.
"Thank you. Dear members. For years, we, the Noctevore brothers, have been able to welcome you to our restaurant, thanks to the kindness of our sponsor. We've shared many unforgettable banquets. We've served you all sorts of exquisite meats that couldn't be tasted anywhere else."
He paused for a moment.
"Today, however, we present you with something truly special." A delicacy so rare that few dare even dream of it, yet everyone longs to taste it. What, you ask? Words can't do it justice, so see it for yourself.
Another pause, and then a loud shout.
"Curtain."
The curtain covering Evan began to rise. Excited whispers reached him, but when the curtain revealed him, a collective gasp of astonishment rang out. Everyone stared at him as if they couldn't believe their eyes.
"This is a real, living human. The rarest and most legendary meat, appearing only once every dozen years."
The art dealer pointed dramatically at him.
"This young, soft, and juicy male has been acquired by our club to be the main course at today's banquet."
Then, bowing, he stepped aside.
"Feast your eyes on him before he's taken to the kitchen."
Evan longed for nothing more than to break his bonds, but it was impossible. He knelt naked on a pedestal. Spread legs, his erection inexorably restrained by the ring at the base of his penis. He felt more shame than during a pole dance.
The guests were watching him; by the looks of it, there were a dozen or so carnivores. Herbivorous waiters were milling about the room, carrying glasses of red wine and appetizers. From his seat, Evan recognized cubes of red jelly, steak tartare, amuse-bouche, and small bowls of broth.
Evan would have swallowed if he could, but he could only drool through his gag. He wondered where they'd gotten the meat. From people like him who'd been cheated, or perhaps kidnapped?
But the worst comments were the guests'.
A pair of lions stopped in front of him. A male with a lush mane and a female.
"It looks wonderful. The club can really acquire magnificent specimens."
The silver fox stared at him for a long time.
"Excellent quality. Truly excellent."
The female jaguar walked around him.
"Membership here is truly worth the price."
A hyena passing by smiled predatorily.
"Man. I never dreamed of it until now. It's so good to be a member of this club. They serve nothing but delicious things here."
There were many such comments. However, the waiters paid him no attention. Absorbed in their work, they didn't glance at him for more than a blink. Even then, they looked at him as if he were an exhibit.
Suddenly, there was a clinking of glasses.
"Dear guests. It's time for our main course to be taken to the kitchen."
A moment later, the chef and his assistants appeared, pushing a kitchen cart. They removed it from its pedestal and placed it on the cart. As they took it away, Evan just managed to hear the art dealer inviting the guests into the dining room.
***
Evan soon found himself in a luxurious kitchen. Polished metal, black stone countertops. Work was in progress everywhere.
A chalkboard with the menu hung on the wall.
The smell of butter, wine, and herbs filled the air. The sounds of slicing and chopping echoed everywhere. Normally, he would have found them pleasant, but not now that he was one of the ingredients.
Soon, Evan was lying on a large table, and Sable stood over him, rubbing his paws. Evan howled through his gag and writhed on the table. Meanwhile, the cook was feeling him all over.
"What, you want your recipe? Good."
Sable said proudly.
"Today's menu is a spit-roasted human basted in herb butter with roasted vegetables, arugula salad, fresh bread, and red wine sauce."
Evan thrashed harder.
"I'm glad you like it."
The cook then summoned two of his assistants, who took Evan to a tiled corner. There, they hung him by his ankles and began washing him with warm water.
Once Evan was clean and dry, they placed him on a table with a stand, his head hanging over the edge and his butt high in the air. His wrists and ankles were tightly tied to the table so he couldn't move.
Sable explored his rear opening for a while. Finally, he began rubbing it with butter. When he decided enough was enough, he grabbed the spit and aimed it at Evan's rear entrance. Evan howled through the gag, demanding he be stopped. But no one paid any attention. Evan jerked as the metal intruder entered him. It hurt, but not as much as Frida's pegging. The cook pushed the spit in farther and farther, and his assistant buttered it to ensure a smooth entrance. After a moment, they removed his gag. Evan tried to scream, but the spit came out of his mouth. He could see and feel the rod sticking out of his mouth. But he was alive and felt no pain worse than Fride's strap-on penetration. Besides, he was already giving in.
Then they tied his wrists and tied them so that they crossed in the middle of his back. His ankles were tied to the spit so that his legs were bent.
Sable smiled, and after a moment, he was moved to another table. There, the spit was set on a stand, and Sable took a pot of melted herb butter and began basting it with a brush.
"That's it today. After all these years, we'll finally enter the elite thanks to this meat."
Finally, Evan was ready. Sable summoned two assistants. They grabbed the spit by its ends and placed it on their shoulders. Then, following the chef, they exited through the carved double doors into the dining hall.
As soon as they passed through, the art dealer's voice rang out.
"Dinner is here, ladies and gentlemen."
The dining hall was spacious. In the center, near the door, was a fire pit with spit racks. Further along were tables arranged in a perfect semicircle. Behind the table opposite the fireplace was a place of honor with a chair styled like a throne. Madame White sat on it. The center of the room was still empty. They walked through the room along the tables. They paused for a moment before Madame White's seat. She smiled from ear to ear. Then, along the tables, the cook and his two assistants went to the fireplace. There, they placed the spit on the higher hooks of the racks. Evan felt the heat rising from below. It was still bearable. Then he heard the sound of the crank being tightened. After a moment, he felt it begin to rotate. They were roasting him in various ways; he thought Frida would be jealous.
While the warmth of the coals slowly enveloped him, conversations continued throughout the room. Waiters were passing wine and small portions of appetizers to be served with the main course. Conversations continued among the guests, only occasionally glancing at the fireplace. Meanwhile, Evan was circling the embers. He was slowly warming up. He felt his previously tense muscles relax, but it wasn't a sign of a drop in tension. Evan knew his cooking too well to get his hopes up. This was part of the plan; it would prepare him for a deeper roast and for his meat to absorb the aromas.
Two helpers grabbed the spit with oven mitts and placed it on the lower rack. Evan shivered if he could.
The actual roasting had begun.
The rotation picked up slightly. He spun and felt the heat begin to penetrate him deeply. Surprisingly, he was aroused. His penis stood even harder than it had when he'd been in the kitchen. He wondered if it was the ring. However, the ring broke and fell, but his penis grew even larger. Evan began to wonder if he really wanted to be eaten. At one point during the rotation, he glanced at Madame White; she smiled at him, as if confirming something.
Evan shuddered inside. At the same time, the first drop of juices left his body. It slowly trickled down his side and fell with a hiss onto the coals.
At the same time, Evan smelled something else. A deep, heavy, savory aroma. As he spun, he realized what it was. Oak wood chips. This would give it a refined aroma. Sable began basting it with herb butter. Evan began to sweat more and more profusely, the juices falling onto the coals and returning to him with the oak smoke, giving him a delicious aroma that wafted through the room.
Evan glanced at the room and strained his ears. The conversations were fading. The guests were greedily inhaling the aroma wafting through the air. Their attention was focused on the fire and the meat above it. Evan heard snippets of conversation. But all of them were focused on one thing:
It was just a luxurious roast, for which they had paid dearly. Something that tasted like an unattainable delicacy. At one point, he heard offers to kidnap someone.
Evan howled into the spit. He considered himself lucky to have Sable as his cook. He knew his stuff and cooked it well. He could swear his work would make it delicious. He didn't blame him, nor did he blame his brother. He could appreciate their talent and craftsmanship.
However, this wasn't the case with the guests. Yes, he was meat they'd paid for, but they treated him as simply a confirmation of their elite status. He was nothing more. Especially since their philosophy conflicted with his need for closeness. He didn't want to be eaten by them. Especially by that white fox.
As he thought about this, the spit moved closer to the fire again. It was just above the embers. It was time to finish the crust. The heat was intense. The basting provided a brief reprieve. The turn was quick, too. The sweet scent of apple chips reached Evan. He could feel his skin turning brown and crispy.
Conversations fell silent. The tension was intense. Evan felt the intense heat. The rush of roasting was overwhelming his senses.
Not just him. All the guests in the room began to salivate profusely. Conversation fell silent. One began fiddling with his jacket. Another massaged her breasts. One by one, clothes were removed until they were naked. They were no longer elite, they were ravenous predators.
Suddenly, the rotation stopped and was raised to the highest level again. Time to rest, allowing the juices to evenly distribute throughout the roast. Murmurs of impatience echoed throughout the room. Evan, meanwhile, hung helplessly in the last of the warmth, waiting.
Madame White waved her hand.
The Noctevore brothers began to undress, as did the rest of the staff. Soon, everyone was naked.
The floor between the hearth and Madame White's seat suddenly parted, and an incredible object emerged. It was a huge, carved obsidian block. To Evan, it resembled an altar. The waiters began to arrange bowls and baskets of grapes around it. It dawned on Evan that this wasn't an altar, but a huge platter.
The waiters arranged a bed of lettuce on it, and Sable placed a tall, carved stand in the center. Meanwhile, the waiters were distributing generous portions of accompaniments to the tables and pouring wine.
Two of the waiters lifted the spit with Evan on it. They carried him to the platter. Carefully removing him from the spit, they placed him on the lettuce so that his hips rested on the stand. This lifted his butt high in the air. Any predator could see his juicy roasted butt clearly. Finally, the spit was removed. They didn't tie Evan up. There was no need. The roasting had drained him of all his strength. He still had enough strength to speak, but he wasn't given the chance. As soon as he opened his mouth, an apple was inside. A moment later, a large carrot was in his butt. No one wanted the guests to be frightened by the gaping hole left by the roasting. His legs were slightly spread, his penis hung freely on the stand, his arms were placed at his sides, his face pointed directly at Madame White's seat... Finally, bunches of grapes and fresh herbs were arranged around him.
Vermilion spoke.
"Dear guests, the dish is almost ready. All that remains is to pour the sauce over it."
Evan lowered his gaze. This was the end. There was no escape. He truly would end up as a roast on his plate. His only regret was that they would eat him.
He cast them one more glance. He saw a herd of vain elitists. He didn't want to be eaten by them, but he couldn't resist. He would rather someone else eat him…
He was ripped from his reverie by a voice that was more terrifying to him than the blade of a knife.
"Now, Madame White, please finish the dish."
Several waiters formed a line between the platter and Madame White's path. Then they knelt, foreheads touching the floor.
Madame White stood up. She walked toward Evan with a springy, feminine gait, completely naked. Triumph was etched on her face.
Evan, meanwhile, screamed at the apple, "Not her. Anyone but her."
She leaned toward him. She smiled like a lover. This infuriated Evan. She was acting like Callisa, whom she despised.
"It looks fantastic."
She sniffed it, inhaling loudly, and licked her lips.
"If it tastes as good as it smells, it must be a truly royal dish."
She smiled at him again.
"Being meat is your destiny."
She straightened and began addressing the guests.
"Dear guests, as some of you probably know, they believe that if you call meat by its name and love it, it will become something else, or something greater. It's a lie. A delusion they spread among themselves. Meat is simply meat, and nothing will change that. The proof is before you."
She pointed at Evan.
"He was loved, but that didn't change anything. He's simply meat. The scent you smell says it all. You'll soon taste it." She turned to the kneeling waiter, who held a tray containing a gravy boat full of red wine sauce.
"It's not cruelty. A predator eats meat, and meat should be eaten with class. It's the natural order of things, and few people can understand it."
She began pouring the sauce over Evan. First, she poured some on his head, then up his back, and finished at the top. His entire body glistened with the sauce.
"There's only one reason humans come to this world. So that Carnivora doesn't forget their wonderful taste."
Evan was angry. He felt flattered, but he didn't want her compliments.
The art dealer spoke again.
"Now, I ask Madame White to begin the banquet and make the first cut."
Evan felt a pang of dread. He didn't know if it was because the anti-cooking mixture wouldn't work on the cut, or because she would do it.
The lights dimmed. Everything focused on the platter, the meat, and Madame White. The waiter knelt before her. In his hands was a tray containing a glass of wine.
"Today, destiny will be fulfilled. We will experience the taste of man. This taste will remain in our memories."
She took the glass.
"We saved him from being wasted. He will become our dinner. Let us show our gratitude."
Everyone raised their glasses.
"Thank you for the meal."
Everyone took a sip of wine.
"And now, without further delay, let us begin our feast." Madame White picked up the cutlery. The knife glinted menacingly in the sconce light. She felt herself salivating profusely. There was a flood between her legs. She licked her lips. She stepped aside, wiggling her butt and wagging her tail.
Her hunt had paid off. She had taken it from Arslan, a parody of a chef who lacked the resolve to cook it. She had stolen it from the foolish girls who didn't want to eat it, only love it.
She turned to the platter. It truly was a royal dish, and she had the sense to know that people have no future, only their own taste. She looked at the meat. Her gaze fell on the most exposed part.
She looked at the fork. She aimed it there. She plunged it into the meat. The skin gave way. She heard the sound of it penetrating. She felt the texture. He saw a drop of juice dripping. Such a crispy skin and a tender, juicy interior. Perfect.
She placed the knife against the meat. The blade glinted in the light. The room fell silent with impatient anticipation. Evan howled, begging the girls for help. Madame White tensed a muscle to move the knife. Just as she was about to cut the meat and see if it was the color she thought it was, a scream echoed through the room.
She stopped in surprise. Shocked, she pulled back the knife and fork. She hissed angrily when, seeing what she had instinctively done, she saw.
"Who…"
She didn't get to finish. A loud crash rang out. The door flew open, and something hit her, sending her crashing to the floor. Furious, she saw it was the doorman. Words unbecoming of a person in her position surged to her lips.
Before she could say anything, more objects flew into the room. They exploded in a blinding flash. Everyone howled. Then they heard the sound of many heavy boots.
"SFO!!! GET DOWN!!!"
At that moment, the sounds of punching and being thrown to the ground were heard.
"Let go! Do you know who I am?" Evan heard the vixen's voice. It sounded like someone was pressing her to the floor. He regained his sight just in time to see her handcuffed.
A large man in uniform and a mask stood before him.
"Special Forces Order. Do you hear me? Blink twice for yes and once for no."
He blinked twice.
The officer spoke into the walkie-talkie.
"Site secured. Integrity intact. Send a medic with an anti-boiling potion." The officer hung up.
"You're safe. Just hold on a little longer."
"Is he safe? They won't take him somewhere else and eat him?"
"Wow? No, is he calming down like this? You're all screwed."
"You shouldn't be here. I don't know why I agreed."
He glanced to the side. He saw Frida and her father.
He sighed.
He really is safe.