Appetizer
A lovesick suitor, desperate to bed his latest conquest, has a very unique, painful and self-defeating method of demonstrating his devotion to the object of his desire. Dinner guests don’t seem to be complaining about the delicacy he gives them a taste of.
by J.C. Maçek III
This is especially true because “cutting off” is the wrong term. She told me she wants thin slices, see? Slices so thin and delicate you can see light through them.
Let me tell you, that fucking hurts! Pure agony!
The things we do for love.
She said, tonight would be the night and I’d finally get to fuck her, thank God! The only thing I had to do was this, so I agreed. She always had that intoxicating effect on me —she fogs things all up. But, yeah, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to fuck her, Goddammit! She’s so fucking hot!
I laid old Willie Whacker on the cold stainless steel prep table. We were in a kitchen I didn’t recognize, somewhere —wherever she had brought me. Then came the cold, sharp slice, starting like a paper cut, hurting more than anything I’ve ever felt, followed by the warm blood spreading across the shiny surface before I repeated the action with the next slice, hissing in air with every sawing cut. Never screaming. She wouldn’t like screaming. It’s not sexy or manly.
I’ll show her manly. I’m gonna fuck her like fifty men as soon as I’m done slow-carving my dick off.
Another slice. Back and forth, forth and back, that sharp pain coursing from my diminishing shaft to every part of my body.
The worst part is that my cock had to remain hard to “whack it off.” I had to stay turned on. With each millimeter I cut away, I lost more blood, which makes an erection harder (no pun intended) to maintain.
Fuck, this was taking forever. My cock kept sliding around in the blood puddle as I sectioned it. I felt like was never going to fuck her, goddammit! When it all started, I was naturally aroused by her and able to keep my hardon going. But after a few slices, I started hurting so much I got softer so she had to show me some things.
She opened up the top of her dress. That did it. She bent her head down and lifted her breast to feed herself her nipple and kept eye contact with me as she hungrily sucked on it.
That was the sexiest thing I had ever seen! It got me hard so I cut more. The blood puddle expanded, and the shaft softened with the next ten-stroke slice.
She took the penis slivers into the dining area, where I heard voices and smacking lips. Someone exclaimed with delight, and it didn’t sound like her. I had no idea who the fuck she was feeding my pecker portions to or how many people were in there, but whoever it was, she didn’t care if they saw her naked. When she returned to the kitchen, she had not only not covered up, but had taken more off.
By the time half my cockaroo was gone, she had to get totally naked to keep me hard. She sat on the other side of the table and masturbated while I watched and sliced. Fuck, I’m hard! Fuck, this hurts! Fuck, she’s so fucking hot. By the time she orgasmed, my blood puddle had spread all the way to her ass.
She pulled her wet hand from her twat and I couldn’t stop looking at her cunt. Fuck! I cut myself. I mean my thumb. Of course I cut my dick. That was the point.
“Let me taste it,” I pleaded, staring at her dripping sex.
“When you’re done, like we discussed,” she said.
“Aw, come on,” I pleaded. “Just one taste. I need an appetizer!”
She sighed and gently slid her sticky digits into my mouth so I could suck her juices.
“Yum!”
“Smaller slices, dammit,” she admonished like an angry head chef. “I have people to feed and your dicky is big but not that big.”
“Okay, fine,” I scoffed. “I’ll cut my cock more finely.”
“It’s not that hard,” she said, cruelly.
“The fuck it isn’t,” I protested, staring at her breasts with lipstick smears still on them.
She laughed. “I mean it’s not that difficult. Chop it like you would a zucchini.”
“Easy for you to say!” I grunted as I jerked my elbow back and forth. “Dicks don’t chop like zucchinis. Ya gotta grind down on ‘em like raw gizzards, no matter how bad it hurts. Plus I gotta stay hard with all this exsanguination.”
“Not my problem.” She sneered as she picked up the latest phallic allotment to bring to her diners. “Take more blue pills.”
“I’m almost out and I gotta save some to fuck you after this.” Then something dawned on me through the fog of my confused mind. “Hey, how am I supposed to fuck you with no dick?”
“Don’t you worry about it —leave that to me,” she said.
I sighed in relief. She’d thought of everything. She probably also got some really great bandages to restore my stick for fucking.
She took the shrinking portions of my meat out to her hungry patrons, still naked and streaked with my penis blood.
I looked down at the stubby manhood and said, “You’re in for a hell of a thrill tonight.”
She wants smaller pieces —I can do that.
I cut horizontally from the now flat and bloody tip down to the base. Then vertically all the way in. Fuck, it burned, but it was all going to be worth it. Now every slice would produce four pieces. I smiled. She was going to be so pleased with this. But not as pleased as she will be when I fuck her so hard tonight. I shook my sweating head. Whatever she did to me was getting worse. I was increasingly lightheaded and confused. Maybe, I thought, it’s the blood loss.
I was woozy.
Surely she wouldn’t begrudge me a power nap. I’d regain my strength, then finish removing my penis so I can fuck her.
It makes perfect sense.
Everything is fading to black now as I slide forward in my own blood pond to take a nappy nap.
I’m in more pain than I’ve ever felt but it’s all going to be worth it to fuck that beautiful girl.
Soon.
So worth it.
We’ve all known that one guy (and, let’s face it, it’s usually a guy) who would do anything to fuck a certain special someone, no matter what it takes. How often have we heard some overeager lothario declare that he would “give his left nut to fuck her?” And, if such a bargain was on the table, how exactly would the payoff work? In Appetizer, the object of our main character’s obsession demands a lot more than a single testicle and he’s more than happy to provide it. Something tells me, however, he hasn’t thought this through.
J.C. Maçek III is the author of the hit true crime novel, The Black Dahlia (2024), and the producer of the 2018 film [CARGO], starring Ron Thompson of American Pop fame. He is also the author of the film’s tie-in novel. J.C.’s other novels include The Antagonist and Seven Days to Die. He is the curator and editor of Symptom of the Universe: A Horror Tribute to Black Sabbath, an anthology of short stories and novellas inspired by the music and lyrics of every era of Black Sabbath. His short fiction and poetry have appeared in Weird Fiction Quarterly, Sleeve of Hearts, The Devil’s Playground, Morsus Vitae, The Beauty in Darkness and many more anthologies and periodicals. He lives in Southern California with his wife and family and a veritable zoo of pets.