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The Donut Shop

by Bearstock

Trooper Tom Elmers of the Michigan State Police looked briefly down to his shoes before walking into the Flat Stone Donut Shop. They still held the mirror shine he’d given them before the start of his midnight shift. “Hey Dave, what’s going on?” he asked against the dying chime of the doorbell, the smell of sugar and grease hanging in the air wafted beneath his nostrils.

Dave Fetend, owner of the shop who worked the night shift, turned and greeted his friend. “Not much, buddy, not much,” he replied. He was quick to grab an clean coffee mug from the drying rack, force of habit whenever any cop walked through the door. He poured the trooper a mug of fresh coffee. Through the large window overlooking the lit side of the parking lot, he spied Trooper Jerry Baker coming to the door. “You boys have been traveling in pairs lately,” he commented.

“It’s good for troopers working the night shift to have shadows, Davey boy,” Tom smiled.

“Same shit, different day?” Jerry asked as he entered the shop then sitting on a stool next to his buddy of ten years.

Dave filled the second mug. He thought highly of both men; it took guts to be a state trooper. But Jerry, a body builder in his spare time, he was built like a brick shit house, had developed such a massive barrel chest that it entered the shop two seconds before the rest of his six-foot six frame did. Just seeing the giant muscle cop gave Dave an instant hardon.

Tom flinched slightly at his buddy’s cursing. He took his job more seriously than Muscle Head (his pet name for his friend) and cops - especially troopers - were supposed to set examples of good behavior in public. But this was Jerry, after all, so Tom really didn’t mind, especially getting every chance he could to see the dark blue uniform as it wrapped tightly around his friend’s huge arms, chest and thighs. Tom started to sport a hard on in the crotch of his own uniform.

“Ain’t it always?” Dave smile back.

“Any fresh cruellers in the back yet?” Jerry asked.

“Now you know those cruellers are made with only you in mind, my friend! My new donut guy just made some. Hold on.” He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a creme filled crueller with chocolate icing, the trooper’s favorite! He set it on a narrow piece of wax paper in front of the muscled cop. “Won’t that screw up your workouts?”

“Shit no!” Jerry exclaimed. “It’ll give me a good excuse to work out twice as hard when I get off shift in the morning.”

Dave continued wiping the counter around the coffee machine. He looked up at the clock above him—it read three a.m. “Any action in this little town of ours this morning, guys?”

“Nada—as usual,” Tom answered. “I take that back. Our state post down the road is getting new cruisers next week.”

Jerry’s ears pricked up. “No shit?! I thought that was just a rumor.”

“The Capt’n okayed it this morning. Brand new models. I can finally say goodbye to that 1990 I’ve been driving around all these past eight years.”

Suddenly a crash came from the kitchen. Both troopers took sips of coffee watching Dave disappear through the doorway only to return a second later. “The kid dropped a stack of empty trays.”

“Sorry about that, dudes,” came an apologetic teenager’s voice. Through the doorway emerged a tall, six-foot three kid, with a shaved head and a swastika tattooed on his neck. The kid’s face lit up when he saw the troopers, especially the muscular one.

The two cops looked at each other knowing they shared the same thought: skinhead.

“Percy, this is Trooper Tom Elmers and Trooper Jerry Baker,” Dave introduced. He turned back to the men sipping coffee. “Can you believe how tall this kid is and only sixteen years old!”

“You probably still have some more growing to do, kid,” Tom said.

The kid’s smile seemed to grow with some unknown, intense satisfaction.

“Whatever you say, officer!” Then the kid disappeared back into the kitchen.

Dave noticed the bewildered look in the trooper’s faces about his new donut maker. He leaned closer, whispering to the cops, “Percy’s uncle had been a Minnesota state trooper—the kid’s friendly to state cops.”

“Percy?” Jerry asked, snickering.

Dave smiled giving Jerry a nod. “Hey, you guys want to try some chili?”

“I’m not eating anything that’s been sitting around since noon yesterday,” Jerry chuckled.

“It’s fresh. Made it an hour ago.”

“In that case, sure, I’ll have some, but don’t waste any on Mr. Vegetarian, here.”

Normally Tom would have recoiled from the comment but quietly accepted his minority status to a carnivore majority.

Finally something new to add to our little business venture, Percy thought, thinking of the troopers as he scrubbed donut trays. It was then he overheard one cop mention that the other was vegetarian. He stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway to see Dave bringing the muscular cop a bowl of fresh chili. Dave returned Percy’s intense look.

At that moment the doorbell of the donut shop sounded. The three men nodded to Sgt. Steve Brown of the Flat Stone Police Department as the tall officer set his police cap on the counter, sitting across from the two state boys. “New squads are on the way for you guys, I hear,” he mentioned as a mug of hot coffee was set in front of him.

Tom turned to Jerry. “News does travel fast around this town, don’t it?” watching his bud shovel a spoonful of spiced animal flesh into his mouth.

Suddenly Jerry’s taste buds jumped up a notch. “Dave, this is really great chili!”

“Thanks. It’s the meat I’ve found that makes the difference.”

“Hamburger?” Steve asked.

“Ah…not hamburger, but just as good. Cheap, too.”

“Really? Where’d you get it?” Steve’s voice carried a tone of pleading. “I love steaks, meatloaf, you name it. But the wife won’t buy any more since the government regulated the cattle industry last year…”

“…shutting down cattle farms and driving the price of meat up to over ten dollars a pound—and that’s just for ground chuck!” Dave added.

“It’s ridiculous!” Tom said. “Even if I ate the stuff I wouldn’t pay those kinds of prices.”

“Neither would I,” Dave smiled then looked to Baker. “It tastes something like pork, doesn’t it, Jerry?”

“Yeah…it does.” He dug out a big piece of meat with his spoon and chewed it. “Tastes damn good, too.” The trooper swallowed, leaning closer to the counter. “What are you paying? How cheap?”

Steve inhaled the wonderful aroma of fresh chili. “That smells great! I’ll take a bowl when you get a chance, Dave.”

Having no interest in eating it, Tom knew his wife and kids would eat any meat he brought home nowadays. Patiently he and Jerry waited until Dave returned with a second bowl. As the officer dug in everyone waited for Steve’s reaction.

“Hmmmmmmmm…this is excellent chili!” Steve exclaimed.

“How much did you pay for the meat?” Tom asked Jerry’s question again.

“Less than one dollar a pound!” Jerry and Steve stared at him wide eyed as Tom’s lips formed an inaudible whistle.

“Where’d you get it?” Jerry asked.

Dave smiled, giving a nod towards the kitchen. “Percy got it.”

Steve stopped eating, like someone had just slapped his face. “Who the hell is Percy?”

“The new donut maker,” Jerry answered.

“If you’re all are interested I’ll talk to him. He’ll arrange to give you boys special treatment.”

“I’m in,” Jerry said immediately.

Steve gave a smirk like he’d just gotten away with swiping a cookie from the cookie jar. “Me too.”

“Okay, be here same time tomorrow night. I’ll let you know what Percy can do.”

The following night Trooper Elmers sped down Huroc Drive on a breaking and entering call. He held his radio’s mike to his mouth as his cruiser turned north onto Midler Road which led to the edge of town. Tom checked the addresses carefully wishing the houses didn’t sit a quarter mile apart from one another. “Ten-four, dispatch, I just found the Hartong House. No sign of break-in yet, comeback?”

There was a pause. Then the dispatcher’s voice broke static. “Twenty-three, check rear of house, ten-four?”

“Ten-four.” Tom kept the cruiser to the side of the road as it slowed to a stop. He killed the headlights. The one story house was completely dark. “Dispatch, is the family registered as being on vacation?”

“Negative. Family did not register.”

A twenty-two year veteran of the force Tom had learned long ago to pay close attention to his gut, and his gut was now telling him that something was wrong. An eerie feeling fell over him. “This doesn’t feel right,” he muttered to himself. “Dispatch,” he spoke again into the mike, “request back up before proceeding, repeat, request back up, ten-four.”

“Twenty-three, back up dispatched.”

“Ten-four.” Tom got out of his cruiser and waited. A sliver of moonlight reflected off the red bubble light atop the car’s roof. Minutes later a pair of halogen lights broke the darkness around him, pulling up behind his cruiser.

“Need backup, buddy?” Jerry asked in a low voice, approaching his friend.

“Always, Muscle Head.”

Jerry smiled slightly. “Get to work, Sweet Cheeks or I’ll fuck your ass here and now,” he laughed.

With flashlights in hand the two troopers cautiously crept up the dark driveway towards the house. In the dim moonlight they could make out a two-story barn fifty yards away. Tom felt better that his bud was here but still kept a nervous hand on his holster. After they checked out the house’s rear door and windows finding everything locked and secure, Tom motioned towards the barn. “Let’s check it out,” he told Jerry, who took his pistol out.

Approaching the barn Tom’s gut spoke louder. Suddenly, several feet away, a loud bang sounded from behind it. Tom froze as Jerry jumped slightly. Tom signaled that he’d flank the north side of the barn and for Jerry to flank the south. Jerry nodded.

Keeping along the north side Tom pointed the strong beam of his flashlight at an old oak tree. Ducking beneath a low, weathered branch he approached the side door of the barn. His gloved hand grasped the handle and found it locked. Aiming the beam of his light along the side wall he continued through a dense patch of thick weeds. Suddenly a muffled voice sounded from around the back corner of the barn. Unsheathing his pistol, Tom moved quickly through the weeds until the end of the wall was just two feet away. Before he could pounce on whoever was behind the barn, Sgt. Brown stepped out into the flashlight’s beam. Tom forced back a startled cry. “What the fuck are you doing here?” In the light the sergeant’s eyes appeared mesmerized and glazed over.

“I need to…show…you…something Tom,” Steve replied in a monotone voice.

Tom’s gut wasn’t speaking to him now, it was yelling at him to get away! His grip tightened around the butt of his pistol. “What do you want to show me?” Steve gestured with a quick nod toward the rear of the barn. He turned and Tom followed him.

Tom rounded the corner and behind the barn he found Jerry kneeling on the ground, a gloved hand covering his mouth as moonlight reflected off handcuffs locking the trooper’s wrists behind his back. Tom’s flashlight beam ran up the arm from the hand covering Jerry’s mouth up to a teenage skinhead he’d never seen around town before, wearing baggy jeans, a ripped shirt and holding his buddy’s pistol to the bound cop’s head. “What the fuck…?”

Before Tom could react, a hand reached out from the darkness grabbing his own weapon. He turned just as a hard fist hit him square in the face. Tom Elmers hit the ground hard.

“You did good, Sgt. Brown,” complimented the skinhead holding the pistol to Trooper Elmer’s head.

Thank you…Master,” Steve replied.

“How long is that drug supposed to last on him, Biff?” asked the skinhead who had brought down Elmers.

“Not long, Tony, let’s hurry!”

Tony grabbed Elmer’s handcuffs and locked the cop’s wrists behind his back, then bound his feet together with rope as Biff tied Baker’s legs together. “I can’t believe how easy this was!”

“I know. We just nabbed two state troopers and a police sergeant!” Biff laughed. Then he turned to the sergeant, who was standing quietly in a catatonic state. “Sgt. Brown…drag the big one here to our van parked down the hill,” he ordered, pointing to the muscular Baker as Tony gagged Elmers’ mouth with a rag. “Do you understand?”

“Yes…Master.” Steve obeyed, dragging the trooper by his bound feet. Jerry, slightly stunned from being hit on the head with his own pistol, started to struggle but Biff kicked him in the side. “Stay calm or I’ll shoot your fucking ass!” the skinhead warned.

Tony finished gagging Elmers then dragged the half-conscious cop himself. Minutes later they reached a windowless cargo van. Steve was ordered to lift the bound troopers into it through the rear doors. Then he was ordered to lay in the van next to the other two, where he was also handcuffed, gagged and his feet bound tightly together.

Tony rode shotgun as Biff drove. “Hey, ya think a person could make a serious living selling cop meat?”

Biff glanced thoughtfully at his friend. “Maybe. All you’d need would be the meat, oven and the customers,” he said, aiming the van towards the donut shop to meet up with Percy. “Ya know, Tony, I’d like to start my own business too. I want to be an entrepreneur. Ya know? Start a real money maker business.”

“When I make enough I’m going to college,” Tony replied.

“Not me, buddy. I want the money now. I want to earn it, call it mine as soon as I can. The trouble with college is you get an education then go off to work for a company that basically owns your ass, telling you how much you can earn according to what they see fit, give you raises based on how the value THEY put on you, you can’t even take off when you want unless you schedule vacation time! I watched my ‘ol man play that game before I ran away from home…that’s a bunch of shit! If anyone’s going to decide how much I can make it’s going to be ME!”

“So whatcha going to do?”

“Maybe start a video store that carries DVD. I don’t know, something hi-tech, ya know? That’s what people will pay for. I’ll think of something.”

Moments later the van pulled into the unlit parking area behind the donut shop. Biff got out then disappeared through the back door of the shop. Returning with Percy he opened the rear doors of the van to show his friend their catch.

Percy’s face froze looking down at the bound, uniformed men. “Holy shit! You guys actually got ‘em, I don’t believe it!”

“Three sixteen-year olds brought down two troopers and a local pig! Says a lot for how smart cops are!” Biff exclaimed. “But it sure helped you drugging the sergeant’s coffee tonight.”

“Trivalene, man, it’s the shits, ain’t it?” Percy laughed.

Tom, laying chest to chest with Jerry, looked into his buddy’s face under the light spilling over them through the shop’s rear glass door. They listened to early morning traffic traveling up and down Wahrman Road—the main artery of traffic through town—just thirty feet away, hoping that someone - anyone - would spot them and get help. Or maybe Dave would come out to discover them, Tom prayed. Suddenly the van’s doors closed sealing them in darkness only to reopen a minute later.

“Oh my God!” came a familiar voice. Tom’s hopes quickly raised. It was the voice he had heard many, many times asking if he’d like a refill or another jelly filled. Jerry’s smile beneath the rag around his mouth was as wide as Tom’s, who laughed in relief, turning his head up towards Dave. The donut shop owner hopped into the van, crouching over the bound cops. Suddenly Tom and Jerry both realized that Dave wasn’t scrambling to free them. Instead they watched the twisted look of pleasure on the man’s face as he stared down at them, obviously pleased. Jerry’s heart skipped a beat.

Dave crouched lower, carefully pinching and squeezing various parts of Trooper Baker’s muscular frame, like a customer in a grocery store checking the freshness of produce. Then he checked the thickness of meat on Elmers then Brown. “Baker is the one I wanted, boys, but I’ll take all three. There wasn’t a struggle, was there?” he asked his accomplices.

“Naw, boss, it went smooth,” Biff replied.

“Good. The less damage to the meat the better.” He squeezed Elmer’s chest and thighs. “Yeah, all three will do nicely!”

Tom’s expression fell beneath the gag. Somewhere he thought he actually heard the lid to his own casket being closed then locked. Strong fingers then clasp his jaw tightly, forcing his head upward.

“Howdy Tom!” Dave said cheerfully, “you were very curious about the meat I use in my chili last night. Do I have to draw you a map now? No? You’ve been captured for your meat, buddy!” He pinched Elmer’s chest muscle. “After you’re cooked—after all THREE of you are cooked—this meat will be damn tasty and earn me a good living!” He turned his head back to the skinheads keeping his words loud for the bound cops to hear. “We got three pigs here, boys—three LONGPIGS!” Dave laughed then climbed out of the van. Before he closed the doors, he said, “see, boys?! I told you Percy would give you the special treatment!” After shutting the doors, he turned to the skinheads. “Take ‘em to the base. I’ll close up shop and be right behind you.”

Sealed again in darkness, Tom listened to the engine start as the van pulled away from the shop. If he could keep track of the direction they were headed, should he be able to escape he could find help sooner. At first the van stayed on paved road for what must have been twenty minutes driving in a straight motion, at the same time he felt around the floor of the van for anything he could use to free himself. The tips of his fingers fell on loose change, mostly pennies, he knew, gum wrappers, an unopened sucker and even a few computer floppy disks which littered the van. His weight shifted as the van made a sudden right turn. Tom heard the road change to gravel beneath the tires. In less than a minute they made a sharp left turn before coming to a stop.

Tom continued searching with his fingers for something useful. His heart pounded in his chest. Suddenly a loud popping sound came from his feet. As metal rubbed against metal, the rear doors creaked loudly open. Beyond the three skinheads looking down at him he made out the silhouette of a building beneath a moonlit sky.

Biff reached down and grabbed Baker’s bound feet. He pulled at the muscular cop’s body which soon slid easily across the van’s floor then fell, hitting the ground hard. Percy followed, reaching in and grabbing the sergeant’s feet who, not nearly as muscular, grunted as he hit the ground. “Take that you fucking longpig cop!” Percy spat then kicked Brown hard in the ribs.

“What the fuck you doing?!” Biff yelled. “We’re not supposed to damage the meat!”

“Dave will have a shit fit, Percy,” Tony reprimanded.

“This mother fucker gave me a fucking eighty-dollar speeding ticket last month!” He kicked Brown harder. “Then I guess we won’t tell Dave about this, will we,” Percy said, looking from Biff to Tony. He knew his buds wouldn’t nark on him but he couldn’t leave bruises that Dave would see, either.

Tom started to kick and struggle as Tony’s strong hands grabbed his bound feet. He slid easily across the metal floor. All of a sudden something lodged between the skin and nail of his right index finger. His fingers quickly moved around the object’s curved, narrow shaft—a paper clip! Tom concealed it between his middle and index fingers before he, too, hit the ground hard, his ribcage impacting against the dirt causing him to moan loudly.

“Sounds like he’s a pussy cop!” Biff laughed at Elmers. “What’s the matter, pussy cop, learning you’re not such a touch shit after all?!” Percy laughed too as Tony opened the rear door of the building.

The ropes around each of the cop’s feet were cut loose. Percy grabbed their uniform shirts, one a time, lifting them to their feet. “Inside, assholes, we’re not carrying your asses!” Biff ordered.

Tom quickly looked around before Biff pushed him through the doorway into the building. He discovered that they were at the old Newport military base! Rumor had it that the land and property had been sold “as is” to a local business owner but no one ever found out who. But he knew now—Dave! While in the Marine Corp. Tom had been to the base several times for CTO training. The building they were being lead into used to be the maintenance building. “Keep moving!” Biff ordered him.

Jerry was already inside when he stopped. He turned around, fighting Percy who had him by the arm. “You don’t have to do this!” he yelled through his gag. “Don’t do this!”

Percy answered the cop’s cries with a kidney punch.

Tom’s eyes widened once inside the building. Looking around he saw over twenty, four-foot square cages at ten foot intervals along the walls, all of them filled with cops! All of the officers were hogtied and gagged, each wearing different colored uniforms from the different states they were kidnapped from. All of them wore angry looks of revenge on their faces.
Suddenly Tom’s gag was taken off. “Wha…what have you boys gotten mixed up in?!” he yelled, holding tightly the paper clip between his fingers.

“Shut the fuck up!” Biff ordered.

“Come on, kid, take the cuffs off!” Tom pleaded. “You’re holding cops hostage! Whatever Dave has steered you into has guaranteed you boys a life time in the prison! Let us go! You snuff us and you’ll be cop killers! That’s the worse crime you could…”

Biff punched Elmers hard in the stomach. “I said to shut the fuck up, meat!” watching the trooper hit the concrete floor.

Laying on his back, Tom fought to keep the paper clip out of sight from the teenagers.

Tony handed Biff a small, brown medicine bottle half filled with clear liquid. The skinhead sat down on the fallen trooper’s chest, pinning him to the floor. He opened the medicine bottle then soaked the end of a Q-Tip in the liquid. Setting the bottle aside, with his free hand Biff pressed the hinges of the cop’s jaws tightly together forcing the mouth open then quickly rubbed the Q-Tip inside the trooper’s mouth.

Tom instantly tasted a strong metallic flavor running around his mouth and down his throat. He coughed and gagged trying to spit it out but the skinhead’s weight kept him from breathing. After several minutes, his lungs gasping for air, the teen finally stood, letting Tom draw long breaths of air into his lungs. As the skinheads abandoned him to work on Jerry, Tom’s fingers didn’t hesitate to straightened the paper clip and maneuver it’s end into the narrow keyhole of his right cuff. Using his knowledge of handcuffs, he twisted and turned the shaft which disappeared further into the hole. Suddenly a numbing feeling started in his face and neck. He had to hurry, he realized, whatever drug he’d been given was starting to take effect, the numbing feeling traveling further down his body.

“Shit! We’re gonna be making money hand over fist, dudes,” Tony laughed.

“Hell yeah! This beats working at Kroger’s any day!” Biff replied.

Tom felt the end of the paper clip hit the locking lever. He was almost there, he knew! Suddenly the numbness, like a dull gray feeling that quieted his muscles, turning them off like someone striking a light switch, moved into his thighs as well as down his arms into his fingers. A unanticipated feeling of tiredness precipitated over him, his lungs and heart beginning to slow. Tom used all of his will to force his fingers to obey his will. Out of desperation he jammed the narrow shaft of the paper clip against the locking lever inside the cuffs. The lever gave way and the cuff binding his right wrist opened. Tom brought his arm up just as every muscle in his body locked at one time. Still conscious, he was completely paralyzed.

“Hey guys,” Tony said, looking at Elmers’ right hand now at his side, “looks like he freed himself!” All three skinheads laughed—they knew that once a person is taken over by the drug they’d never move a muscle again!

By the time Baker and Brown were completely numb ten minutes later, Dave entered the building. “Are our guests ready yet?” he smiled.

“Yup. These are numb but what about the rest of the cops we captured, boss?” Biff asked looking to the cages around the room.

“I’ll prepare them soon enough. I want to cook these three first.”

“Which one is the vegetarian, Percy?” Biff asked his friend who pointed to Elmers. “Dave, he’s worth more because he’s vegetarian, right?”

“Not really…all three are worth the same…cop meat,” Dave replied.

“That’s what the customers want.” He then removed an envelope from his pocket. As he did a small address book fell to the ground. Quickly he picked up it up and put it back in his pocket.

Percy had seen Dave at the donut shop several times adding names to that black book while on the phone discussing various prices of “meat.” He had a pretty good idea what it was. If he was right, that book which was probably more sacred to Dave than his own mother.

“All right, boys, I agreed on two hundred bucks for Baker. Here’s two hundred bucks for each cop.” He handed Biff six one hundred-dollar bills.

“There’s always more cops out there, boss, just say the word. You know when you bark, we jump,” Biff assured.

A businessman for over twenty years, Dave grew accustomed to employee brown-nosers, and Biff proved himself to be a consistent one.

“How do you prepare the meat, boss?” Tony asked.

As Dave stood over the paralyzed cops stuffing the envelope back into his pocket he looked thoughtfully to each skinhead. “You boys really want to find out?”

“Sure do, boss,” Percy added.

“You realize that if I show you, you’ll be deeper into the operation than you might care to be. You’ll be more than just delivery boys, you’ll be, shall we say, “sub” partners. If I get caught, you three go down with me.” He gave them a serious look.

There was a long, silent pause in the room. “I’d like to learn, boss,” Tony said. “Me, too,” Biff and Percy said separately.

“Okay. Help me drag the meat into the next room and you’ll learn more.”

Dave lead the way as each skinhead dragged a cop. He stepped through the large entranceway to a darkened bay that once serviced military vehicles. After flipping a switch four rows of overhead flourescents came to life illuminating the room…and his pride and joy.

The overheads bathed Biff, Tony and Percy in bluish light. All three stopped abruptly, their mouths open, looking at the contraption in the center of the room. Before them stood the largest oven they’d ever seen—an twelve foot square metal box with a glass door in the front.

“Gentlemen,” Dave announced proudly, “this is my specialized rotisserie longpig oven!”

“Awesome!” Tony exclaimed. He stepped closer, followed by Biff then Percy. Through the glass door, on either side of the oven, were large metal discs flat against the sides twelve feet in diameter. Running the width of the oven were four, twelve-foot long spits set into notches in the discs.

“That’s a fucking big oven, Dave. You didn’t order that out of no donut shop supply catalog,” Biff said in an amazed tone.

“Fuck no!” Percy agreed. He looked closer spotting a brush with foot long bristles aimed downward running the width of the oven’s ceiling. Several small tubes at six-inch intervals disappeared into the bristles from the top. At the oven’s bottom were large heating coils.

“No I didn’t,” Dave replied. “A friend of mind built it for me.”

Percy stepped back admiring the maker’s handiwork. “Hey…you know what this looks like? A bigger, wider version of one of those rotisserie ovens at Kentucky Fried Chicken!”

Dave laughed. “Exactly! That’s where the idea came from. I ordered a small model, exactly like the one KFC uses, told my buddy how big I wanted it and he built a man-size version for me.”

The three officers laying on the concrete floor were still conscious, listening to every word. As the drug in their systems already started breaking down their nervous systems, permanent blindness was setting in.

“Who built it and how much did it cost?” Percy asked.

Over the last month working with Percy at the donut shop, Dave quickly learned the kid was very nosy. “Who built it I’m not going to say. How much did it cost me? Nothing.” He watched Tony’s and Percy’s raised eyebrows. “The builder made it for me on the condition that he have the honor of being the first longpig cooked in his own creation—alive! He’s the meat I’ve been serving in the chili over the last month”

“Why’d he want that?” Tony asked.

“Don’t know. But I kept my promise to him. Now let’s get to work preparing these long pigs…help me get their clothes off and clean ‘em up.”

Against one wall in the old maintenance bay sat several work benches. The three skinheads each put a longpig on a separate bench. Dave went to a cabinet in the corner of the bay then returned handing each skinhead a sharp utility knife. He sported a hardon watching the youths, probably known as juvenile delinquents by many people, cut the uniforms from the cops.

Percy, working on Sgt. Brown, looked deeply into the naked man’s eyes. “Can they really hear everything we’re saying, Dave?”

“Yup,” Dave assured.

“You’re a dick, Sgt. Brown!” Percy yelled at the cop. “You’re a fucking cock sucker and I can’t wait to stick you in the god damned oven, you bastard!”

Tony and Biff laughed.

Dave laughed too, grabbing a set of barber shears and several straight razors. “Only one set of shears so Biff, you do Elmers first. Once you’re done getting all his hair off, head to toe,” he emphasized, “shave him down.”
Biff played with Trooper Elmers limb cock in his hand. “Can I cut this off? I’ve always wanted to slice off a cop’s dick!”

Dave smiled, always knowing Biff was a true cannibal at heart. “Sure, go ahead. Take the balls too!”

Biff sheared off the cop’s body hair, paying close attention to the bush of dark fur around the cock. Then he shaved the entire body using soapy water, all the while sporting a hardon anticipating the fun he was going to have slicing the cop’s dick. After rinsing off any soap residue with more water as Dave instructed, Trooper Elmers was completely hairless head to toe. Then Biff grabbed the cop’s limp cock, pulling it hard.

Tom couldn’t feel his cock being pulled away from his body or the cold blade as it tore his flesh.

Tony had just finished shearing off what little body hair Trooper Baker had. He handed the shears to Percy who stood over Sgt. Brown, but both skinheads stopped what they were doing to join Dave watch Biff neuter Trooper Elmers.

Tom was completely blind now. The voices he heard were just sounds escaping down a darkened tunnel somewhere in his mind. “Oh wow!” he heard, then “holy shit, he’s going to do it!”

The sharp blade slid easily through the base of the trooper’s cock. Biff held the cock’s head at an angle away from the body as the shaft easily separated from its base; veins, arteries and muscle tissue sprang like rubber bands towards the severed flesh in his hand.

“Cool!” Percy exclaimed. “Oh my God!” added Tony, reaching toward his own crotch, repulsed by the act but so curious he couldn’t turn away.

A second later Biff held in his hand the flesh that no doubt had given Trooper Elmers much pleasure in his lifetime. He thought of all the remarks every man makes to buddies in a bar or at work, bragging about the “love muscle” that fucks his wife so well, or is bragged about in the gym locker room that his is longer than the next guys, or even the object of what bosses, coworkers and the average jerkoff on the street could go and suck at times if they didn’t like it. Holding the trooper’s severed member in his hand, Biff didn’t think what was so fucking special about it now. A sudden impulse struck him, an impulse to do something he’d always wanted to do. He opened his mouth, put the three-inch piece of soft flesh on his tongue then swallowed it whole.

The three spectators didn’t say a word. Dave understood the taste of cop meat in his mouth. But he liked his meat cooked first! Percy and Tony stared at their friend, mesmerized by what he just did. Then they watched as Biff grab the cop’s egg size balls in one hand then press the sharpened metal of the blade against the base of the ball sac.

Slowly, almost erotically, Biff added pressure as the blade slid back and forth, slicing through the flesh. A sigh of pure lust for power over the trooper’s nuts escaped his lips as the blade sliced through the base of the ballsack like a hot knife through butter. Within seconds it was over. The youth looked at the sac he held in his hand, the container of the glands that had given Trooper Elmers his sexual power, his lust, the source of his urge to fuck.

Tony stood there seriously questioning what kind of monster his friend was, while Percy, sporting a rock-hard erection, took his cock out of his fatigues then quickly stroked it. In less than a minute he shot his load onto the floor, knowing he had to do the same thing to Sgt. Brown that Biff did to Elmers. Tony, completely focused on Biff, didn’t notice Percy’s orgasm.

Biff carefully examined and squeezed the sac between his thumb and index finger, exposing the purplish testicles inside. These ARE Elmer’s masculinity, the seed of his children, the source of his manhood, he thought. He squeezed his thumb and index finger pushing out one of the testicles from the sac, opened his mouth then swallowed it whole. Closing his eyes, he savored the feeling as the lump of flesh slid easily down his throat. When it finally dropped into his stomach, he ate the second of Elmer’s manhood.
Tony wanted to puke. “That was the sickest thing I’d ever seen! Are you on drugs?” he asked.

Percy, controlled by his own sense of lust and power, hurried over to Sgt. Brown. Just as his friend did, he grabbed the cop’s cock and balls then made him sexless. He chewed and savored the taste of cop flesh in his mouth, jerking off his cock again as he did. After he swallowed the balls he licked clean the inside of the sergeant’s ballsack.

“Okay, cannibals,” Dave said, “let’s finish business.”

“Give it a try, Tony?” Percy asked his friend. “It’s a real rush, man!”

“Fuck you, sicko!” Tony spat. Feeling nauseous but willing himself not to be sick, he worked on Trooper Baker occasionally giving his friends looks of revulsion.

A half hour later all three cops were hair-free. “They’re ready,” Biff told Dave, who left the room then returned with a sealed fiv- gallon bucket.

“Excellent work, boys. Next we rub their skin with this oil.” Opening the lid the aroma of spices quickly filled the room.

Tony sickened from the smell. “What’s in that shit?”

“Garlic, paprika, ginger, olive oil, and about ten other ingredients you don’t need to know about.” Dave dipped a cupped hand into the solution then rubbed his hand on Trooper Elmers shaved chest in a circular motion. “Press firmly. Push the oil into the skin, it’ll clean out the pores,” he instructed then watched each skinhead do a thorough job with the oil. Dave then went to his special oven, removed one of the spits then brought it over to Elmers. “Tony, Percy,” he ordered, “lay the longpig on its side.”

“What are you going to do with that?” Tony asked in a naïve tone.

“Watch and learn.” Dave put the end of the spit against the cop’s asshole then slowly slid it up into him.

“You’re impaling him!”

The three youths watched Dave give the metal rod several hard pushes, twisting and turning the shaft, working it laboriously up into the man’s body. “You want…to…” Dave grunted, giving it another hard push, “keep it parallel with the…spine!”

A soft gasp escaped Tom’s throat. Blind, deaf and barely conscious, he felt the invader move up into him. Whatever it was, he thought, must be tearing apart his insides. The image of his wife came to mind, then his kids and all the people in the community he vowed to serve that he’d never see again. He wanted to cry so badly but couldn’t even do that. Suddenly something moved up his throat then pushed against his teeth, separating his jaws.

“Impalement is the only way to cook longpigs right, boys,” Dave said. He ordered Tony to fetch another spit from the oven then work it up Trooper Baker’s ass. Tony fetched the long rod. Biff and Percy both watched the bloodied end of the spit appear from Elmer’s mouth. Both skinheads got instant hard-ons. “Help Tony,” Dave told them.

The two skinheads moved over to Trooper Baker and put the longpig on its side. Tony aligned the rod with the nude man’s butt hole then hesitated giving his friends a look that he just couldn’t. Percy eagerly stepped in taking the spit from his friend’s hands. “Let me, man, this is so fucking cool!” Tony was more than happy to step aside.

Percy aligned the spit then quickly shoved it up the cop’s ass, keeping it parallel to the spine just as Dave had shown. “Take that mother fucker!” he told Baker. Soon the end of the spit emerged from the trooper’s mouth.
“Too fucking cool!” Biff said excitedly. “We’re actually impaling cops! This is too fucked up!”

“You boys are getting the hang of it,” Dave praised. “But they’re not cops, they’re longpigs—just meat to be cooked!”

As Percy and Biff impaled Sgt. Brown, with Tony standing off to the side giving looks of disgust, Dave cut several lengths of copper wire from a utility spool then quickly tied Elmers’ hands behind his back and his feet to the spit. He did the same to Baker.

“This is too fucking wild!” Biff told Percy. “These fuckers have rods sticking out their butts!”

Tony helped Dave carry Elmers to the oven, sliding the ends of the spit into the slots in the metal discs as Biff and Percy impaled Sgt. Brown. Once the rod was set Dave pushed a button. The discs rotated moving Elmers to the bottom of the oven over the heating coils. Into the empty slot they put the spit impaling Baker, rotated him then deposited Sgt. Brown’s spit once the two youths had finished.

“….uh…” A small sighed escaped Brown’s mouth.

“This longpig’s still alive, boss,” Biff told Dave.

“They probably all are but won’t be for long. They’re already bleeding to dead on the inside. A man’s lung tissue is very fragile and shrinks when exposed to high heat. They’ll suffocate once the oven heats up. You boys see that brush at the top of the oven?” he asked, pointing to the oven’s ceiling. The skinheads nodded. “Every time the longpigs turn in the oven they’ll pass through those bristles and get brushed with a light coating of that oil you rubbed into their skins.” Dave briefly admired the three longpigs in the oven that used to be his customers then set the temperature knob to three hundred and fifty degrees.

“Shit!” Biff laughed looking at the setting, “that’s what my grandma bakes bread at!”

Dave turned another knob. Slowly the metal discs turned. As they did, each spit individually rotated. Everyone watched the longpigs travel from bottom of the oven, up to the top to pass through the bristles, their bodies glistening from a light coating of oil deposited on their skins, then moving back down over the heating coils.

“This is so fucking cool,” Percy said, watching the cops cook. The oven’s motor purred a gentle hum under the weight of the officers.

Dave stood proudly in front of his oven feeling like a king. Within another year, he figured, he’d be selling more cop meat than people could eat!
“Know what that oven needs, Dave?” Biff asked eyeing the empty spit in the oven.

The question threw Dave off a moment; there was nothing this oven could possible need! “What?”

“We need a fourth longpig in there.”

Tony looked at his friend with a blank expression. “Huh?” Biff raised a finger to his lips gesturing Tony to keep quiet.

“Yeah we need a fourth!” Biff said again, quietly picking up a two by four that was laying on the floor next to the workbench where he had prepared Elmers.

Dave cocked an ear towards the skinhead. “I’m not cooking any of the caged meat, they’re for a special party I’m thinking of hosting.”

“We got one right here in this very room we could use,” Biff replied matter-of-factly.

Dave didn’t respond. Suddenly there was an explosion at the back of his head. He saw stars then blacked out before he hit the floor. When he awoke he was floating in space. A metallic taste hung in his mouth. He opened his eyes lethargically. As the blur came into focus he saw that he was staring at one of the slots in the oven, a slot that sturdily held the end of the spit which jutted from his mouth!

Tony and Percy watched their former boss open his eyes. “Know what, Dave?” Biff asked, holding the man’s small address book in his hand which was filled with names and phone numbers of customers who’d been buying Dave’s cop meat, “you really should have kept this locked up somewhere. If I hadn’t seen it fall out of your pocket you wouldn’t be where you are right now. You gave me the idea that me and my bros go into business for ourselves without you!” he laughed.

“…bastards…” Dave choked around the metal shaft filling his throat.
“We’ll keep your donut shop going for you too,” Tony said. “We have a buddy whose brother is a hot shot lawyer—a crooked scheister—who for a price will draw up the papers legally making your donut shop ours.”

“We’ll have us an endless supply of cops to supply your, I mean, our customers with!” Before closing the over door, Biff leaned forward and kissed Dave’s cheek. “Thanks for setting us up in business, man.”

“Yeah, dude, thanks,” Percy added. In one hand he held Dave’s severed ballsack; he’d already eaten the man’s cock. Then he swallowed one ball and was about to swallow the second when Biff stopped him.

“You don’t get both, dude.” His friend handed Biff Dave’s other testicle which he swallowed whole, immediately feeling the rush of power eating another man’s ball!

The oven door was then closed. From his peripheral vision Dave saw his world begin to spin around him as he traveled around the inside the oven along with the other longpigs. The bristles of the brush were soft against his skin, lightly coating him with spiced oil as the temperature climbed around him. Closing his eyes, the donut shop owner fell into his final sleep, his last thought being at what a wonderful rotisserie oven his friend had built for him.

One month later two Flat Stone police officers entered the donut shop. Percy, who had kidnapped and murdered his step father two days earlier to eat his manhood then cooked him in the rotisserie oven, was getting to know the shop’s early morning clientele very well. He reached for two coffee mugs from the drying rack and poured the cops their coffee. “More chili?” he asked. The chili, of course, was made with Sgt. Brown’s meat. Dave and the two troopers, their flesh having turned a deep tan color after twenty-four hours in the oven weeks earlier, had already been distributed to various customers Biff had very discretely contacted explaining that he’d be the contact person if they wanted their special meat. And Dave, the three skinheads learned, had been wrong—people did pay much more for a vegetarian cop! Sgt. Brown, on the other hand, had been cut up into steaks and chops then put into the donut shop’s freezer to make chili and kept for other special occasions. All of the caged cops at the abandoned military base each had a full day at three hundred and fifty degrees and now Percy and his friends needed more cop meat.

“Sure,” Officer Thomas said in a heavy, burly voice. “That is really good chili. This makes my fourth bowl this week.”

“I’ll take some too, Percy,” Officer Watson added.

Percy quickly returned with two bowls of chili. “Any luck on finding Sgt. Brown or the missing troopers?”

“The state boys don’t tell us much,” Officer Thomas sighed, “but I think the case might be dead in the water. A complete mystery.” He and Steve Brown had been buddies for years, and now he was terribly worried that he might never see his friend again as he lifted a large spoonful of chili to his mouth. He chewed the meat heartily.

“Well eat up.” As the cops ate, Percy took in the site of their thick, muscular chests and arms. Dave was right—they’re all just meat to be cooked!