DQ Ch. 02: Dangerous Recipes

"It's him... The cook!" The woman holds the phone to her chest and yells at the man.

"What the fuck..." he says, placing the tooth pick that he has been playing with on the table in front of him.

The woman listens to what the cook tells her. Her mouth hangs open from surprise.

"How can a character reach out to us who are in the process of making him up?" the man wants to know.

But the woman listens and nods to what the cook has to say. "I... don't know... We usually don't take orders... I like your plan, though... I'll discuss it..."

"What did he want?"

"He wants us to send a dove to the mothers, so that he can spice up the workshop."

The man looks shocked. "How did he have our number?"

The woman returns to the desk, thoughtfully, as she picks up her pen again. The man rolls the tooth pick on the table's surface back and forth.

"We are not going to do this, right?"

The woman shrugs. "I don't know. His idea sounds fun, and it isn't as if this workshop wouldn't have been spiced up at all..."

"What is his suggestion?"

"You'll see, I'll send the dove when it's time. Actually, I am looking forward to this..."

The man rests his head in his hands, in frustration. "All I wanted was to write something worthy of Sophocles' Oedipus Rex , but it seems like I cannot move further than cheap pornography with you... Enough with the bloody deus ex machinae already."

Laughing, the woman replies: "It is touching to see how modest you have remained. I know you too well: you don't look for long and windy tragedies, you want it quick and dirty. So stop sobbing and look at what I will conjure up here."

The man accepts her suggestion but only reluctantly. He can't help feeling the presence of someone else, that lingers in between him and the woman. They have never been interrupted before by anyone. He can not understand how she would just let this pass by... But then the story catches his attention again, as he stings his finger on the sharp side of the steel tooth pick...

Evelyn was quick to gather the cutlery and the cutting boards to accommodate her friends. She had placed them on the kitchen counter before they even had had a chance to wonder where they would be in this large kitchen.

"Thanks, Eve," my mom said. "You are always so considerate!"

Evelyn beamed. She had looked forward to this day for such a long time, especially as her son had joined too. It was great to hang out with him now that he was an adult. Doing things like this made her feel that he did not just accept her presence because he was her mom, but that he actually liked doing things with her. Even better that her friends had come too, and that they would also have a nice day with their sons!

Mom started to chop up the zucchini that the cook had given to her. She made tiny cubes out of it, and Carol followed her example, while Evelyn stuck to the literal instructions and made small slices of hers. The women did not have any idea yet what the dish would be exactly, nor what their feminine contribution would consist of. They had been joking all afternoon about what the secret could be. Motherly love? Wisdom that came with the ages? When Carol had suggested it might be breast milk, the women had laughed so hard that Evelyn had had to cry.

The cook entered the room with a stainless steel plate with a cover on top, which he balanced carefully as something seemed to stir inside of it. He attempted not to let it get out, but the women heard the fluttering of wings against the steel. With several long strides, the man stood in front of the three women, whose hands still rested on the zucchini's they were cutting. Surprise leaked from their eyes. What was this?

"And I present to you..." the cook announced in a theatrical voice, "with appropriate pride, the illustrious, the famed, the terrible..."

He let his sentence hang in mid air. The three 'o's of our moms mouths waited for it to land.

"... deviant dove!"

And he pulled off the top from the plate. Immediately a white dove shot through the kitchen, purring softly as he made his way straight to the nearest window. Evelyn yelped high-pitched as her eyes tracked its trajectory. Carol looked at the dove, then at my mother. My mother looked at the dove before she ducked when it soared over her head. Then, a tiny bit too long to not be awkward, all three fell silent, before erupting into loud laughter.

"You scared us!" Evelyn giggled, as she put the knife she had been wielding and placed her hands on her tender face. Mom placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, what was that good for, mister bird?"

The cook just laughed, making them wait before he embarked on an explanation.

"Well, you see, ladies. This dove has hypnotized you. You will believe all my instructions, and you will follow them as if you had willed them yourselves..."

The man hits the table with his flat hand to express his enjoyment of the story. "This is interesting!" he yells

The woman laughed as she put her stylus down. "Yeah, I know. It is exciting, right, to see how he will make use of his powers to steer his own story?"

The man nods. "I am curious to see where this goes. Can we have some pop corn?"

"Sure, in a bit. I had only hoped for there to be a bit more of romance between the cook and the women. It was what he promised too... But even seeing them fall for him like this is OK, I guess. At least, for once, we are writing a story without incest!"

The man looks at her obliquely. "But what will happen with the sons? We cannot have all this build-up and then simply abandon them in the kitchen, right? That would be such bad writing. What will the cook do with them?"

The cook continued his explanations, unperturbed by the interruption of his authors.

"So, you will basically be in my power, even though you will remain thinking you are free. Moreover, I have also taken control of your sons. We will go back into the kitchen in a bit, but you will not perceive them as your sons."

Evelyn looked confused. It was too much to process for Carol.

"Wait, I don't get it. Is this some kind of joke? As what will we see them then?"

"You will not perceive their bodies except for their cocks, which you will see as a delicate, rare fruit to be prepared for our meal."

It was as if someone had just read out horrible test results in a hospital. It was completely silent. Mom scraped her throat.

"I don't get the joke. What are you suggesting?"

The cook sighed out audibly, impatient. "You will do as I say is what I am saying. For example, if I say that you blindly accept the explanation I have just given, you will do so."

The women started nodding as if he had just said something that made great sense to them. Evelyn and Carol still looked at mom with a tinge of concern in their eyes, but mom just replied: "Okay. Fine with me."

Soon the kitchen was filled with the sounds of their knives chopping the remaining zucchini's.

The woman hits the table with the front of her head, which she drops in dismay. "My, oh, my..." she groaned. "There goes my hope for a nice romantic story... That cook is a fucking lier. He promised to me he would develop this story slowly, to make these women betray their husbands one cooking workshop at a time. He cannot control himself!"

In contrast, the man seems delighted at the turn of events, and he even claps his hands at the choice of the cook.

"What a dick head. What a beautiful dick head. He is just like us, he is."

But the woman does not bulge. "I am going to stop this. I can't bear to see another mom sucking her son's cocks."

Yet, when she tries to place the pen on the paper, it ricochets off of it. She tries again, but she can't succeed. Instead, letters form on the page one by one, so that all she can do was read on.

The cook has taken over their story.

I do not know how long I had been out of it, but when I woke up, I was strapped to with my legs to the kitchen counter. The first thing I noticed, to my utter dismay, was that I was naked. I needed to put on some clothes, and quickly! I was bound here as if I were a piece of meat on display.

Groaning, I sat up as straight as I could, and I tried to lean on my elbows to take stock of the situation. I couldn't. My hands were strapped onto the counter too. I was still in the kitchen, the lighting was lit much brighter than before, though. The single bulb had been replaced by a couple of large standing lamps that were directed at me. I tried to move my legs, but they, too, were tightly bound.

I heard Llewyn and Jim groan to my left and right. They were naked a swell, and I awkwardly stared away from their dicks. They also appeared to be bound.

"What the hell has happened?" I wanted to know.

"Ah... He... the douche bag... He bound us to the counter." Jim uttered, while he pulled on the straps around his wrists with all his might. The rattling sound echoed harsh on the steel. To no avail. "I saw him do it, but I had no control over my muscles. He undressed us and put us up here. I told you he was a pervert."

Llewyn whimpered and almost cried.

"Don't, don't, Llewyn," I hushed him. "We are gonna get out of this. It will be alright."

But I wasn't so sure myself. As far as I had been able to tell, we had been alone in the building with the cook. Screaming for help would not get us anywhere. When Llewyn started wailing like an alarm, I had trouble telling him so.

My mind raced. I felt extremely lucid and vivid. I looked around, still with enough decency not to stare at my friends' cocks, and saw that behind Jim, on the counter, lay the piece of aluminum foil that he had been playing with.

"Jim!" I shouted, trying to speak louder than Llewyn was moaning. "The piece of foil... Could you try to make it into a lock pick?"

Jim tried to turn around, but the straps prohibited this movement. Nevertheless, when he leaned backwards as far he could, he almost touched the piece of foil. He tried again, and with the tip of his index finger he managed to push it in his direction.

Then, abruptly, the cook came in, accompanied by our moms. I felt a surge of relief. Surely, this would now come to an end. Our moms would do anything for us.

"Mom!" Llewyn yelled at the top his voice. "Help us!"

But when our mothers approached us, I immediately knew something was off. They trailed slightly behind the cook, whose malign gaze rested on our naked bodies, while they chatted softly, showing to each other some chopped up vegetables they carried in plastic containers.

"Mom?" I asked, carefully. But even though I was sure she would hear me, she did not respond. Instead she gestured Carol to be silent, so she could hear what the cook would have to say. Finally, her eyes turned towards us, and I was sure I could beckon her for help. But her gaze did not veer upwards, to our faces. It just lingered on, first, Llewyn's crotch, then Jim's, then... mine...

I felt really awkward being looked at like this by my own mother. She stooped a bit and winced her eyes, as if she was studying an art work that she wanted to see more closely.

"I have never seen a vegetable like this," she remarked to the cook, who had turned his back to us to speak to the ladies.

Vegetable?

"What the fuck, mom?" I screamed, desperately, feeling ashamed that my mom had been staring at my dick for about two minutes already. My nakedness was unbearable. I did not want Carol, Evelyn, and mom to see me like this. What was going on?

Mom, of course, did not reply. The cook, at first, did not either, until Llewyn started yelling like an angry child again.

"Ladies, freeze for a second."

They did. They really did freeze, to my surprise! Carol stood still looking into her plastic container, which, as I saw now, contained pieces of chopped zucchini. Evelyn was nervously fumbling the fabric of her dress. Mom was still trying to stare over the cook's shoulders at my crotch, which, luckily, did not show any sign of sexual arousement - that would have been the absolute worse.

The cook turned around and spoke softly, and quickly to us.

"Shut up, you big baby." Llewyn was the big baby, sobbing in fright. "In a second the secondary effects of the peppers will kick in, and you will feel euphoric. Also, your mothers are completely under my mind's control, so there is no use protesting. I promise you, that the more you protest, the worse this will be for you, okay?"

He turned around before we could reply and gave our moms the command to unfreeze.

His speech had silenced me for sure, although I still felt deeply worried about what would happen and whether I would make it out alive. Llewyn, on the other hand, had trouble collecting himself. I couldn't blame him. His whining expressed how I felt inside too.

The cook quickly glanced over his shoulder, in Llewyn's direction. He was going to show us his power.

"Evelyn," he said, "could I ask you to be my volunteer?"

Llewyn stopped his whimpering. There was no telling what the cook would do to his mother.

Evelyn shyly nodded. "Yes, I would like that," she replied in a small voice.

"Could you give me an estimate of how you think the vegetable on far left weighs?", the cook said, as he pointed to Llewyn's dick. "I have got to admit it is a trick question."

"Ehm, I don't know." Evelyn answered. "0.5lb?"

The cook nodded. "Not a bad guess, but why don't you go ahead and feel for yourself?"

Evelyn stepped forward, visibly nervous with everybody looking at her. My jaw dropped as I saw how she stood in front of her own son and without hesitation reached for his cock.

Llewyn tried to turn his hips as to hide his dick from his mom, but he was too tightly bound. The straps made awful iron noises, as of a prisoner trying desperately to break from his cell. There was no use. I knew that I had to avert my eyes, but when Llewyn's mom turned her hand upside down, to open her palm, as if she was going to weigh a pumpkin or an eggplant, I had trouble to.

It happened really fast too. She just placed her hand under her son's crotch, and started to lift it softly, his balls flattening on her hand's palm.

"Stop, mom, stop!" Llewyn screamed, ashamed. Evelyn gave no sign that she had heard him, and she went on unperturbed as if she was testing the weight of a bunch of tomatoes in the supermarket.

"I would say that indeed this is around 0.5lb," she said, straight through Llewyn groans and whimpers. Her eyes never once looked up to his face. Instead, she turned around to face the cook and to see whether he guess had been right.

The cook nodded. "That's enough, Evelyn, thank you."

Evelyn gently let go of her grip on her son's penis and balls, and she returned to her friends.

"But it was a trick question, because this vegetable will respond to what you do with it. This is where the magic comes in, and this is why it is a secret recipe that I am teaching you. I will show you how to do this, but if you treat the vegetable properly, it will become heavier."

Our mothers gasped, as if a great secret had been revealed to them. I just had to grind my teeth at hearing such nonsense. Llewyn was breathing loudly, distressed as he had been at his mom touching his crotch. I felt really bad for him, but I also wanted to avoid at all costs that my mother would be called to do the same with me. When I looked to my left, I saw Jim returning my gaze with deep concern in his eyes. Very subtly, he showed me the aluminum foil that he had pressed between his fingers. Perhaps there was a way out yet... Before our mothers were going to eat us alive...

"Okay, two questions..." the man begins, but when he looks up from the text to face the woman, he sees that she is as perplexed as he was. Nevertheless, he presses on. "First, where the hell did those peppers come from?"

"I don't... I don't know..." the woman replies. "I thought only we could release mind controlling devices. These peppers are nonsense. There are no such things in the real world. Apparently, this cook guy was pulling at least some strings in our story from the start... He must have been able to bend reality to make room for stupid things like sleep-inducing euphoria-stimulating peppers."

"Damn. Okay. Second question, then. Do you think this is going to involve cannibalism? Mothers eating their son's crotches, thinking they are delicatessen? Because then I am out. I mean, really out. I will just backspace my entire existence, okay. That would be too much."

The cook, apparently overhearing his creators' discussion, interrupts.

"What kind of freak do you think I am?"

The man falls off his chair, so startled is he, as his limbs go as limp as the tentacles of an octopus at rest. "The hell...!"

The woman looks around her frantically. "Where did that voice come from?"

A sigh.

"Look, I am taking this story over, okay. You should have thought twice replying to phone call. Anyway, you can rest at ease. There will be no cannibalism, you morons. Geez."

The woman tries to stand up, but leather straps shoot out of her chair and bind her in position. The man gets up as fast as he can, trying to make it away from the table, but another strap shoots from the ground, grabbing his ankle. Softly, it pulls him back to the table, where other straps bind him tightly next to the woman. He can not look away from the book even if he wishes to. Leather straps restrain every movement of his head.

Words continue to form there.

"And that will be the last of this man and woman." The cook says to you, the reader. "They will remain here in eternity, while I explore all the deviant possibilities of their little narrative universe."

Then he returns to his story.

"To prepare this vegetable," the cook started, "it is very important that you give it the proper treatment. The seeds of the plant are hard to reach. Age old civilizations all over the continent have developed special ways of treating it to get to the seeds, which is accompanied by a certain ritual." He walked through the kitchen, as our mothers followed him intently with large eyes. "A first step is to gently massage its underpart. Do you see two ball-shaped extensions of the fruit? Just gently try to hold them in your hand and ever so softly knead them."

The mothers nodded again, as if all this made perfect sense, which only heightened my fears that, indeed, the cook had them fully under his control. What was going to happen?

I stared at mom, who listened intently to the cook's instructions, as she always did when she was told something by an authority. I remembered the Spanish course. I had only just been in college then, and I was slightly embarrassed when mom tried to be the best in class, raising her hand at all the teacher's questions. She had that look in her eyes again now. She not only wanted to know what the cook said, but she wanted to show him that she was intelligent too.

Were they just going to accept all this nonsense like that? What the hell did they think was going on? The cook, with an air of gallantry, shoved three chairs over the brown tiles of the kitchen and placed them in front of the notches in the kitchen counter that were carved out right in the spots between our legs. If our moms would sit here, they could comfortably reach for our crotches which they believed to be vegetables. They could even lean their elbows on the counter for their own convenience. My God, this cook was wicked.

As our mothers approached us, I just prayed silently that mom wouldn't step in my direction, so that I would be spared the degrading sampling that Llewyn's mom had given to him. By some miracle, it turned out that the spots our moms chose did not match their genes, that is, Evelyn sat down between Jim's legs, Carol between mine, and mom between Llewyn's. My relief was short-lived. This would mean that I would have to see how my very own mother was going to massage the cock of my best friend. No matter how hard I tried to look away now, this was something of an order that shocking that I followed every little move mom made in the corner of my eye. It is not all too quotidian to see your mother jerk off your best friend, thinking his dick is some rare fruit...