“Our sales were up from last month and our stocks have increased quite a bit; up 2.96. I see a lot of great news coming in and I am sure we all have secured our quarterly bonus.”
The meeting room applauded as Max Rutten modestly held his hands up.
“I couldn’t have done it without all of you. Honestly, your hard work and sacrifices have all paid off and allowed me to bring this good news to the table.”
He felt the phone vibrating in his pocket as he made his way back to his chair. A man next to him gripped Max’s shoulder and gave him a thumb up. Once settled in he pulled out his phone. He had a text message.
2435 Hazy Creek Edge
8:00 PM Sharp
As his boss continued the meeting, Max obsessively read and re-read the text message. All morning he had been excited about this conference, to deliver this good news, but now he was impatiently waiting for the minutes to count down. Tonight everything was about to change. He hoped he wpuldn’t get cold feet.
As soon as the meeting concluded, Max made his way to the bathroom. With a well-manicured finger, he scrolled through the contacts of his cell phone and dialed a number.
“Hey Max, honey, how was your meeting?”
“Baby, it was amazing, nothing short of it.”
“When will you be home?”
“Well, we are having a few drinks at the hotel bar, so I think it might be a late night. I wouldn’t wait up hun; you know how these meetings go.”
“Yeah, I do; cocaine and hookers.”
“Please baby, my days of hookers and cocaine are long behind me.”
“I know, sweetie. Well, you be good. Don’t get too drunk, and if you do, make sure you take a cab home.”
“Ok. Goodnight sugar.”
He needed to find a way to duck out. He needed to get to that address… he couldn’t afford to miss this night. It had taken him months to reach out to those who shared his fetish; his obsession. Tonight, he finally got to indulge.
The bathroom door opened and in walked a fit young man named Clayton Kettler. He was a rising star in the company, a real prodigy at only twenty-seven-years-old. He walked over to the sink and like a magician, revealed a small clear tube full of their favorite white powder.
“Want to do a line, bro?”
Before Max could answer, Clayton already had some of the powder dumped out. He used a corporate credit card to form the small pile into four perfect lines. Max shrugged his shoulders as he reached for the rolled up one hundred-dollar bill Clayton handed him. Like a vacuum, he snorted two lines and passed the bill.
“I definitely needed that.”
“Hey bro, your hard work keeps bringing me the money to buy this magical white powder. Want to go get a woman in town? My treat.”
“Na, I got to leave. My wife is expecting me.”
“Listen to you, man. I offer free, strange pussy and you want to go home to the wife. You’re whipped man.”
“When you finally get some pubes, you will understand.”
Clayton laughed as he bent down to snort his two lines. Max made his way for the door as Clayton shouted to him.
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
As he pulled his car into 2435 Hazy Creek Edge, the guard at the front gate checked his ID. After examining the license, he nodded. “They are expecting you, Mr. Rutten. At the front door, a valet will take your vehicle and a butler will lead you in. Enjoy your evening.”
Max nodded as he drove his silver Mercedes up the curving driveway, his way illuminated by small glass globes of light… As he approached the front door, he felt overwhelming excitement.
“Mr. Rutten, I will take your vehicle. I assume the title is signed over and inside?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Very well, sir.” As soon as Max stepped out, another man greeted him.
“Welcome Mr. Rutten. They are waiting for you. Please, come this way and we will prepare you for the event.”
“Very well, lead the way.”
The main hall was breathtakingly beautiful. Hanging in the center was a crystal chandelier. The shadows it cast jumped all over the room. The carpet was amazing, a Persian import for sure. He walked across it in his leather Italian shoes and let his feet sink into the soft fabric.
The butler led him to a room. “This is where I leave you, sir. Please get undressed and meet the rest of the guests in the main hall. When you are ready, simply walk out to the left and follow until you see the party. They are anxiously awaiting your arrival, sir.”
The butler left and Max walked over to a vanity. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved his phone and searched for his wife’s number. He dangled his finger over the call button, but stopped short of pressing it.
He wanted to call her, but knew it would be a bad idea. Hearing her voice would bring him back to reality. He would realize the insanity in all this. He would go home and return to his mundane world, wondering what he gave up this night. He loved his wife, but his obsession pushed him.
He put down the phone and began to take off his expensive suit. Each article of clothing was neatly folded and placed it in a pile. On top, he placed his leather shoes, the ones with the perfect shine. Now, completely naked, he looked at himself in the vanity mirror.
He had muscles, tone, a perfect stomach; he was well-endowed and always had a year-round tan. His wife back home was a gorgeous hard body herself. She was a gym rat and nutrition nut. Their house was full of all the things anyone could ever want… his life was perfect, yet why was he here?
He knew that after tonight many lives would change, including his. He knew this whole thing was insane; no normal person would come here. This fetish, which began as a titillating search on the internet, had developed into an obsession. This macabre fascination drove him mad.
He knew there was no turning back. He had to commit.
He made his way into the hallway. The air was full of drunken laugher; people having a good time. He continued on, following the sounds.
In the main hall were nearly two dozen men and women. They were all well-dressed, and each one wore a beautifully decorated Venetian mask. They all froze as he entered. Silence fell over the crowd.
“Our guest of honor has arrived. Are our appetites strong?” A man asked. They all yelled out in joy. The man approached Max and held out a hand. “Please, take my hand and let me show you something.”
Max reached out and gripped the man’s gloved hand. He allowed the man to lead him deeper into the room. Many of the guests were licking their lips, and one woman nervously sipped her wine to hide her excitement.
The host brought Max to a wall. On it were pictures of good-looking men and woman. In each, the person was naked and standing in this exact room.
“You see this one here. It is dated 1923. This is the year our Order of Tantalus was formed. Her name was Natasha Vates. She was a Russian immigrant who worked at a cathouse. She was depressed, and one night, she tried to kill herself. Then she met a man who understood her sorrow.
“My great-grandfather, Irwin Leishner was a wealthy man and rather extravagant. He discovered early in life that he had a taste for human meat. You see, during World War One, while in the trenches, he came across a German man. This soldier was a casualty of a flamethrower. Irwin was trapped in the trench for three days. He ran out of ammo, food, and water. In an act of desperation, he used a knife to cut away the burn exterior to where it was more… tender.
“When he met Natasha, he expressed a desire to eat her. At first, she was disgusted, but after a few days, she warmed up to the idea. My great-grandfather took this picture of her just moments before he laid her on a table and to be eaten alive.”
Max couldn’t hide his erection and the party guests all welcomed his enthusiastic arousal.
“Now onto you.”
A woman approached them with a camera and took a picture of Max. She smiled as she looked at it on the digital display.
“This came out perfect.” She spoke in a soft voice. “You look very nice, Mr. Rutten.”
“Thank you.” Max responded.
“Max, this night we both will indulge in our fetish. We, the Order of Tantalus, will indulge in devouring you alive. You will enjoy being eaten. That is what separates us from criminals. We do not need to force people to fulfill our needs; willing sacrifices are everywhere. We are not criminals; we are not thugs. We are the ones who run this country’s corporations, military, government and banks. We are professionals just like you.” Max looked at the wall. There was a picture for every month of every year; willing sacrifices. Soon, he would be added to this wall.
“I’m honored. How do we do this?” Max asked. The host could barely hide his smile as he grabbed hold of Max’s arm and brought him to a table.
The table was short, the length of a body, and made of African Blackwood. Max took his place, lying down on the surface.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Order of Tantalus; this month, our feast will be Sir Maximilian Rutten. This fine young man will go down in history among the likes of the great and beautiful Natasha Vates. Now get your cutlery in order.” The masked guests all reached into their pockets and eagerly pulled out silver forks and knives. Looking at Max, the host said, “These forks and knives have been with the order for many years now. This cutlery has cut and pulled apart the meat of men and women and tonight the tradition continues. Now, let us indulge.”
For the first time that evening, he felt guilt. He thought of his wife and children. He imagined the misery and sadness they would feel after he dissapeared.
For a moment he felt the urge to flee. He battled it, fought with the good sense to get up and run far away from this place. This fetish is called Vorarephilia, and it had destroyed his life. Now here he was, and there was no turning back.
The group feverishly began to stick their forks into his body. He felt their knives cutting into his flesh. He screamed in pain and pleasure, looking down as chunks of his own meat were being pulled away from his body and shoveled into the mouths of the eager. All around him were bloody masks as arteries were nicked.
A fork jammed into his eye. He felt the metal inside the jelly-like material as the masked woman scooped it out like it was ice cream. Max watched with his good eye as she sucked it down her throat. The guests continued to devour, feverishly pulling meat, and entrails from his body.
The room began to fade to black. He was dying, imagining his meat packed inside the stomachs of cannibal gluttons.
The butler walked down the hall and into the room where Max had changed. Without emotion he picked up the man’s clothes and placed them in a plastic bag. A vibrating sound captured his attention. It was Max’s phone.
The butler picked it up and saw that he had received a picture message. He pressed accept and opened it. In the picture was a beautiful brown-haired woman sitting on a couch with two cute children; one boy and one girl. Below the picture, the text read “Daddy come home soon mommy and we miss you so much.”
The butler closed the phone and tossed it into the bag before making his way to the front door. Outside, he handed the bag off to a man posting security. The man took the bag down a walkway which wrapped around the house. He made his way to what looked like a mausoleum.
Inside this stone building were hundreds of bags, each one containing various personal effects. The man took the belongings of Max and tossed them on the pile and secured the door.