I’m Steve Dwight, 53, originally from New Zealand and now living in Bulgaria. I have written a few short stories for competitions but primarily write scripts for YouTube crime channels.
I enjoy writing in the thriller or psychological horror genres and find it easiest to write about situations that make me feel uncomfortable as there can be a cathartic effect from the output.
Check out the channel where I write scripts and do the voice-over narration right HERE.
LONG PIG
by
Steve Dwight
James was breathing rapidly.
He was trying to remain calm, but knew he was failing miserably.
The viewer count was ticking up steadily in the bottom corner of the screen, just nudging the three figure mark. He had set himself a target of at least four figures before starting.
The dark web forum that was hosting his stream had been buzzing since he had posted invites to the show.
This was the next logical step in a life dedicated to a very singular fascination, one that started in his early teens, talking excitedly with friends about the video nasties that were mostly banned, but circulated on grainy VHS copies.
Cannibals ‘Holocaust’, ‘Ferox’ and ‘Apocalypse’ had all piqued his interest, but it was the growth of the internet, and then the dark web, that drove his desire into overdrive.
He had left the schlocky fake gore behind, joining forums that allowed him to interact with a like minded community who wanted to consume, or had consumed, the most forbidden delicacy.
What had started as morbid fascination in his youth, had blossomed into an obsession.
Now in his late 40s, James lived an insular life with barely any real world human contact. Acting on his fantasies had become the preoccupation of his every waking minute.
Another glance at the screen gave him a shot of adrenaline, over 1100 viewers were now watching the stream.
He looked squarely at the camera. Upon speaking, his voice came out as a croak, he cleared his throat and continued, “Welcome friends, welcome to cooking with James”.
“Today we will pan frying a tender piece in shallots and cream, I am sure it will be excellent, I urge you to take notes and try the dish for yourself”.
The show, with it’s low production value, wouldn’t have been out of place on Youtube, lost amongst thousands of hours of random cooking videos, that is, until James repositioned the camera downwards to his midriff and the towel wrapped around his waist.
“You’ll notice I already have some butter melting in the pan, to which I have added the diced shallots”.
With a flourish he removed the towel, exposing his penis and testicles, sans pubic hair.
He reached off camera and picked up a scalpel, replete with a #21 blade.
His chest rose and fell quickly. He shot the camera a quick glance, over 1300 viewers now.
It was time.
With his left hand, he stretched his penis onto the edge of the table.
“I’ll now make the cut. The butter is sizzling and browning slightly, we mustn’t let it burn”.
He aimed the scalpel at the base of his penis and pushed the blade into the flesh. Blood erupted quickly around the blade, ran downwards and dripped off his testicles. He tried not to make any noise but failed, a high pitched squeal escaping his lips.
The amount of blood shocked him and made seeing the cut impossible. Wavering slightly, he grabbed a wad of paper towels and hastily wiped the blood away.
Picking up the scalpel again, he pushed it quickly back into the cut, moving the blade around and over the top of his penis, pushing downwards until it was completely severed.
Inhaling sharply, James looked at the camera, “Now we must slice this thinly before adding it to the pan”.
His words had become slurred, and he stopped and stared at his manhood on the chopping board, before rousing himself and going to work with the scalpel.
This, as any chef will tell you, is not the correct implement for slicing a cut of meat, and barely half way through he slipped and deeply cut his thumb open.
“Fuck”, he hissed.
The added blood from his thumb wasn’t making dicing the penis easy. He continued, working quickly, and added his hastily chopped appendage to the pan. It sizzled loudly, and steam rose up in a cloud.
“We want to stir the diced flesh in the butter, completely coating it and almost cooking it through, before adding salt and pepper and a small amount of cream”.
This last piece to camera was almost incomprehensible, his words garbled and his swaying more pronounced. He was on the edge of unconsciousness, trying to focus as his vision was disappearing down a tunnel.
Roughly poking at the pan with a wooden spoon, he reached for a carton of cream and tried to add just a splash to the pan. He failed miserably as he wobbled, most of the cream ending up on the table.
He picked up a fork, and stabbed it into the pan, skewering a lump and bringing it up to his mouth.
“Folks, this is the moment of truth, the taste test”.
James put the barely cooked morsel into his mouth and started to chew.
Viewers on the stream saw him inhale deeply through his nose, and continue to chew the piece of meat, which mere minutes before, had been part of his body.
He closed his eyes and seemed lost in rapture, his fantasy finally realised.
Upon opening his eyes, the shock of red in his peripheral vision drew his gaze downwards.
Suddenly, the horror of what he had done returned him to the moment.
His vision swam and there was a rushing in his ears. Viewers on the stream saw James whip his head quickly from left to right, as if looking for someone to blame for the grotesque sight of his severed penis.
James struggled for composure, steadied himself by placing a hand on the table and looked straight at the camera.
He managed a breathless “Thank you for joining me today, this has been cooking with James”, before vomiting copiously and collapsing forward, destroying the table and knocking the camera over.
Viewers on the stream were left with an image of a stained ceiling, harshly lit by strip lights, and the sound of retching and whimpering coming from a man, off camera, lying in the fetal position.