Titel: La cuisine raffinée des rapax
Kapitel: Cuisse de chevreuil florale
Sprache: Französisch
Autor: Mehrere, siehe Liste
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Translate: French > English
Introduction:
Few dishes excite those fond of the delinquent and the obscure alike as does the Cuisse de chevreuil florale. The ‘blooming deer hind’ presents the pinnacle of Rapax cuisine, a dish unmatched in its ability to experience the thrill of the primal hunt. Meticulous preparation of many stages is required do it justice and it is to be served at the most exquisite of banquettes as any lesser occasion would border insult to both Chef and those indulging in it.
Stage one I - Bunting
Take a European roe deer. It is to be a femme with no history of pregnancy and fully matured but no older than her second decade. The Doe is to be confined to complete a solitude as one is able to muster. She must not be allowed to tell day from night and is not to be spoken to when dealt with. She is to be confined to a simple space and good hygiene and air not stagnant.
Prepare a feed of 1 quart of bovine milk, ½ quart of a mash of chestnut and ½ quart of a mash of Pistachio so that it may fill a bucket.
Offer this feed and plenty a drink of wheat beer to the Doe once a day for a week of three and make it so she consumes the portions in their entirety. Then feed her twice the portions for another week and twice that for another. The Doe is not to defecate unless every third day and measures must be taken to prevent it prematurely. If proper care is taken as to the procedure, a widening of the thighs by the double is achieved.
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“Why do you do it?”
The trails of cigarette smoke curled in the still air, circling up towards the old ceiling, hitting the rafters and birds nest of cabling running across the lateral before finally disappearing in the old shingles of the roof. The red glimmer that flashed every time the Wolf took a draw illuminated his face, matching his piercing eyes. He had sat down on the corner of the draining pit, his feet stretched across the old tiles, stuck in the ominous black leather boots. His waistcoat and dress shirt hidden behind the stained apron she had seen so many times now. His true suit.
“Why do you do it?” he repeated, smiling at the Doe swinging in front of him. She was hung upside-down, her ankles bored through by large meathooks that kept her legs spread and her arms were tied behind her back using the bandanna that once kept her hair in check. It was making it impossible to so much as wiggle without exhausting herself; and exhausted she was. The blood rushing into her head was making her dizzy, drowsy, coherent thoughts were slipping from her head like the soft stream of saliva drooping from her open muzzle.
“It’s a question they ask me a lot, you know? I am afraid the answer might be too elaborate for your current state of mind, Venison.”
She could taste copper in her gums and swallowing hurt. She tried her best to ignore the urge to contract her esophagus but it returned every few seconds, like a tick she could not manage to shave off. And every time she succumbed to the urge, she could feel the dreadful cattle feeding tube inside of her throat once more. It wasn’t there, sitting on the tiled floor to her left, just in view which she was sure was intentional. She tilted her head to not having to look at it and met the gaze of the Wolf who studied her with interest. She tried to speak, closed her muzzle with all the strength she could muster but all she managed was to close her eyes before releasing a soft, pained bleat, feeling hot tears stream down her eyes.
She wanted to go home so badly.
The Wolf watches as she cried, the pleading bleats perking his ears and bristling up the fur on his neck, itching his digitigrades. She could hear it, the leather boots he wore protested against his legs trying to assume their natural angles. He seemed to ponder on what to do next with her. He had told her early on that she wasn’t going to die, at least not soon. The words still rung in her head, because they were terrifying. How could something be so reassuring and so dreadful at the same time?
He slowly pushed himself off the ledge and stepped up to her, his hand rising up to push into her stomach, trailing his fingers down her midriff. Her breath quickened, her chest heaved as she tried desperately to suck in more air but the tension her body was forced to endure from being hung up by her ankles did not allow for it, which only raised her panic further. Gasping for air over and over she his beastly digits crawled over her stomach until she felt a hiccup befall her. She gagged on her spit, coughing and wriggling about, bending up and down like a worm until she felt her abdominals burn and stiffen as they soured after just a few seconds.
She kept her eyes pressed so, so tightly, trying to hold her breath to stifle the hiccup. She felt so deeply embarrassed at the noises she was making! Paradoxically, she still felt a need to show manners, even in her current situation. His size, his scent, his huge claws on her small body, it was all too much and she felt an onset of fainting befall her. Dark hands grasped for her sanity and she was all too willing to give in.
Take me away, she thought to herself, take me with you and make the pain go away!
And for just a moment, it seemed to work. Her senses slipped and she felt her body grow limp. Maybe she could finally sleep. Maybe she’d wake up tomorrow, in her bed, in it was all just a bad dream. Maybe…
But her senses rushed back when he grabbed her neck. Oh, they rushed back with the intensity of an oncoming truck! Violently she was pulled back into the harsh reality of the situation.
“No, please!” she gargled, her eyes burning as sweat poured into them, adding yet another layer of discomfort, another thing to panic about. It was much worse than the others, however. Loosing sight of what was going on, no longer having a clear vision of what the dreadful lupine was doing? She could not bear it! She needed to see, at least, not being able to was much more fearful.
She could only hear. Hear and not see, her worst fear. The Doe was so very susceptible to noises, especially the ones she remembered. And what she remembered was the cattle feeder being pushed into the bucket of the dreadful sludge he was making her eat. Every day he would come in to feed her. Every day he would pump her full of the cold, gross mush of stale milk and nuts.
His hand on her neck was clamping down, forcing her weak muzzle open and forcing her to stop pleading and simply brace herself. She heard the slicing sound of him pulling up the handle one-handed, the sound of stainless steel sliding across ceramic tiles before he brought it up to her muzzle. There it was again; the cold, rounded tip of the hollow tube that felt so awfully thick and so LONG! It would never fit, she told herself! It was too much, her body would reject it. But of course, the Wolf knew what he was doing.
She pressed her eyes closed but it mattered not. What came next was the worst part. She felt him tilt his hand back and in one swift motion insert the tube down her throat. It was so clean, almost elegant and she HATED every second of it! Like a swab being pushed up your nostril it hurt, it was uncomfortable, her throat protested, contracted and gagged around the insertion. It was nothing like a boys endowment. She had tried to imagine it as one in the beginning but it was only cold, unforgiving and HARD! It was so, so hard, there was no give, nothing, it forced her head, her neck, her body itself around it, unyielding just like the Wolf operating it.
Then came the pumps. His hand slipped from the handle, leaving it dangling in the air as he operated the plunger and slowly but surely began to inject the dreadful feed directly into her stomach. How cruel he was to make the act of eating, something she had a deep love for, something so traumatic and dreadful. He force-fed her, making her feel her stomach fill up with cold, unappetizing mush. What little of it was making it back up around the tube pooled up in her muzzle and set of her gag reflex all the more fiercely. It just tasted so awful. If it only was warm then there would have been some pleasure to derive from it. But the Wolf would not allow it.
“Misery breeds flavour, little Hind.” his voice sounded in her ears. What a thing to say. Food that needed to suffer in order to be enjoyable?
The plunger continued. Up and down, up and down, every repetition saw another few bites pumped into her stomach, extending it further. Gravity forced it down, tucking stronger on her tissue the wider it became. She was so full, her stomach so bloated and there was no air to relieve herself with. Nothing to belch up and feel the wonderful relaxation that came with it. It was all dense, mushy mass that stretched her skin and made her sides ache. She shivered, twitched, tried to bend her body once more, wanting to nothing more than to push out the stupid tube from her muzzle. It felt almost as if she was successful! Over and over and over it did feel so…
But there was no relieve. No rest, nothing. It would end when the Wolf decided it would and there was so little she could do, it made her feel weak and insignificant! Just a little Doe in the grasp of a huge predator. When the first stretchmark across her navel tore, her eyes widened and she began to screech! The pain was absurd, her skin had torn down to the lower epidermal layers, nerve ends had been severed and for just a split-second, the Doe had passed out.
When she awoke again, she heard the middle of the Wolf’s chuckling, his words were lost to her ears as she hung, limp and drugged by pain, unable to form a coherent thought anymore. She wanted to look but she could no longer muster the strength to lift her head.
The tube was finally removed, the Wolf placed his hand against her muzzle and pulled it out, leaving her to cough and sputter, wanting to spit out but she lacked the strength. She had reached her limits, there was no more. A belly fit to burst with raw calories to fatten her, yet she felt she lacked the energy to even digest it.
She heard him speak again but her ears failed her. It was only when she heard the winding sounds of the steel ropes that held her up and the disorienting feeling of being lowered when he operated the crank that she realized it was over… for the day, anyway. And still, she felt a hint of hope, a feeling of perverse accomplishment of having made it through another day. Twice he had pumped her full today and she had made it! She’d be able to sleep and rest and-
The gag reflex hit her all at once. Her eyes widened and she felt a tube of sludge crawl up her neck, straining, stretching her food pipe before it burst forth in a pile of barely digested sick that sprayed across the draining pit. Gargled bleats and a winding body that contracted against her very will snaking across the tiled floor, she was forcefully rejecting most of what she had been fed. Her throat was on fire, red streaks were mixing into the olive colour of the sludge.
She could not tell how long it had lasted. Minutes, certainly but once it was over she was left breathing and panting, her stomach still inhumanly distended, the pain that was crawling back into her every muscle was slowly overtaking the prior pains of her strained skin and left her in a position not much more comfortable than before. Her body felt more beaten and broken than it ever had before. Sore, aching and twitching still, she could barely perk her ears to the Wolf’s sigh. There was no anger, just… a mild sense of frustration in his tone. She heard him drop into the pit behind her. And the noise of the stainless steel tube being picked up.
“Auf ein Neues.”
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