Fragments Fiction

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Dave Fragments

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SWEET THING

February 15, 2003

"Hey sweet thing, how's the pastry business?" A visitor yelled across the kitchen. Sam looked up from his desserts to see who yelled and frowned as he recognized the visitor. Hate passed across his face. The visitor ducked out of the kitchen through the wrong door nearly hitting the busboys. One word slipped out of Sam's mouth: "Asshole!"

"Do you know that asshole?" I asked as I chopped mire' poix for the mise in place at my station.

"Unfortunately," Sam replied in his usual laconic way and turned his attention back to his work. Sam was the best pastry chef I ever worked with. A party in the banquet room wanted 40 "death by chocolate" desserts for a birthday and Sam was finishing personalizing them. They looked spectacular: four types of chocolate cake layered with four types of chocolate filling, frosted with chocolate ganache, decorated with crystalline flowers, and each surmounted with a chocolate banner announcing "Happy Birthday" in delicate gold icing. Sam didn't talk again until he finished decorating the desserts.

"Tell the banquet manager that the special desserts are in the walking. I plated one for show," he said as he pushed the rack towards the walk-in freezer. I was deveining giant shrimp when Sam returned with flour for the bread.

"How do you know the asshole?" I pried. The asshole's name was Lancelot Doddrill Beaver IV and his resume said his nickname was Lance d'Beaver.

Sam just shrugged and replied "High school. He's bad news. What the fuck is he doing here?"

"Rumor has it that he's up for a job out front," I said. Sam rolled his eyeballs in disgust as he started to wrestle a mountain of flour into bread dough. We called Sam the creeping white fungus. Flour dust began to hover in the air around him. A fine white coating spread around the countertop creeping slowly towards me. Sam made the best bread in the city, perhaps in the world. The muscles of Sam's arms and chest bulged as he kneaded the giant mass of dough in his large hands. Usually he only talked food and recipes, but today was an exception; he spoke about his private life.

"I'll quit before I work for him. His idea of gourmet food is the shrimp platter at Denny's. His idea of soigné is to put fucking little white cards at the fucking table asking if the customer liked the fucking food. He can't figure out that when we charge forty fucking dollars for a fucking plate of the worlds best god-damn food that if the customer didn't like the shit we serve, they wouldn't fucking be here! He'll destroy the fucking restaurant with his fucking antics and I won't stay to see the asshole do that," Sam remarked grimly. I never heard Sam curse like that before this. As Sou Chef, I had to protect the interests of the restaurant. Sam heaved the dough and worked the gluten in it. The dough quivered and shook with the strength of his blows.

"I gather you don't like him?" I watched as Sam's eye narrowed into little red dots of pure loathing. He cut the dough parted into halves and then fourths. Sam threw some bench flour and more little, white clouds of flour levitated up from the countertop and floated gently around the room.

"Do I sound like I like him?" Sam threw me a withering glance.

"If I could show you a way to eliminate him, would you help me?" I asked.

"Eliminate him! He's king of the mind fuck. He used to call me the 'Pillsbury Dough Boy' in school, made my life a living hell. He made everyone's life a living hell. We developed a theory that he's the spawn of Satan. One of the girls got so bent-out-of-shape she even tried to run him over with her car. Lot of good it did her. She's still in a psychiatric hospital thanks to his abuse. I wanted to kill him but I was afraid he would haunt me from the grave," Sam's frankness startled me. He really despised the guy. Sam took his hatred out on the dough and started to cut it into small, round loaves. He set these on baking pans to proof. After that, he would reshape the loaves and bake them.

"I can absolutely, positively, guarantee that he won't haunt you after I get done with him. Are you in?" I hoped that Sam would take my offer. I wanted a reason to get close to him. Sam used a small lump of dough to preserve the yeast culture, adding water and sugar to it, then covering it. He set it back in the pantry.

"He's an unhinged, psychotic, paranoid asshole. You can't win with him. I know. Once, some kids from the class behind us played a practical joke on him, he tormented them for years, drove two of them out of school. If he's going to work here, I don't need him persecuting me because we played a practical joke on him that cost him a job. You'd have to eliminate him from the face of the earth before I would help," Sam replied.

"I can do make sure he never bothers anyone again," I replied.

"No, you can't," Sam smiled at the idea and shook his head from side to side.

"Yes, I can! Oh most certainly, I can! No one on this earth will ever hear a word from him again," I answered.

"I won't be a party to murder. No killing!" Sam said as he got the ingredients for creme anglais from the refrigerator.

"No, No, not murder! My great Aunt Edith was a voodoo priestess and she taught me how to transform people into things. If you help, I can change him into something inanimate for Mardi Gras and never change him back," I put my hand on Sam's shoulder and gave him my most sincere look. Sam returned the gaze and looked at me as if I was terminally goofy for suggesting voodoo.

"How about we turn him into a chocolate gorilla for the Mardi Gras feast and then melt him down into chocolate truffles and sell him for Easter?" Sam's sarcasm scorched the room.

"It's a deal," I told Sam. He looked back at me trying to decide if I was telling him the truth or not.

"What do you want me to do? Cook with chicken blood?" Sam asked as he handed me a whisk to assist in tempering the eggs. I whisked the egg and milk together as he poured.

"No, no dead chickens. I'll give you a special cocoa powder to blend into one of your chocolate deserts. The spell will take effect a few hours later. It's that simple," I replied.

It took about two months and three wasted chocolate recipes to corner Lancelot Doddrill Beaver IV into eating a big chocolate dessert, but we finally did it. The three of us sat in the kitchen after the restaurant closed and served him the prophetically named "death by chocolate" and my delicious "Chocolate Gorilla" coffee-mocha supreme spiked with lots of very old, very expensive, and very smooth cognac and containing plenty of my great Aunt Edith's special blend of chocolate. Lance d'Beaver swooned as he devoured the cake and washed it down with Chocolate Gorillas.

"Hey, doughboy, that was sinful! I guess you finally accomplished something in your life; creating a dessert that can wow even me and I've tasted it all. Great stuff!" he squeezed Sam's shoulder. Sam cringed at his touch.

"Have another Chocolate Gorilla. There's always room for more," I said as I set an extra large cup in front of him. Sam and I drank very white Cafe Lattes so we couldn't mix up the drinks.

"This stuff is just too much. What's the catch, I know you guys hate me. Everyone hates me! Why are you being so nice to me?" Lance asked. All the alcohol made him a silly and careless. His legs wobbled under him as he tried to stand up.

"Whoa, doggies, I think I'm drunk! Drunk on chocolate cake and Chocolate Gorillas! Oh Lordy me! Will they respect me in the morning?" Lance laughed and sat back down. He looked from Sam to me and back again several times with the silliest grin on his face.

"I'll never drive home like this, you guys have to take me home and put me to bed. Maybe you two can spend the night; I'll be your drunken slave. I always wanted to be your drunken slave," Lance broke into gales of laughter.

"Are you propositioning us?" Sam said in disbelief.

"I'm big as a post and warm as toast and love to be poked by the big, strong, handsome, Sammy, the Pillsbury Dough Boy," Lance replied giggling his fool head off.

"He's completely lost it. If this doesn't work, you're going to pay dearly for it," Sam remarked.

"We have to get him standing before he stiffens up. It might help to undress him too," I said to Sam. Lance listened drunk as a skunk and giddy as a schoolgirl. He tried to unbutton his shirt:

"Aw! The fingers no workie, Lancey gotta get naked for the nice boys! Lancie wannnnnna," he held the "n" sound for a few seconds and then added the rest of the sentence at breakneck speed: "get fucked by you two." Lance said in a chocolate and alcohol induced daze. I started to unbutton Lance's pants. Sam started on his shirt.

It took a few minutes of groping and being groped, but we finally got Lance naked and standing as still as he could. Lance's cock was big and very erect. His body was hairy, slightly overweight, but solid.

"Bring me more of that wonderful drink!" he commanded. I stuck a straw in another large cup and let him suck to his hearts content. He drained it.

"Oh boys, I feel strange. I must be really, really drunk. It's like my hips don't want me to stand up straight anymore," Lance said. Sam watched in awe as Lance's hips widened and bowed his legs outwards. His legs thickened and shortened to accommodate his new stance. We watched as his feet grew larger and his toes became prehensile. Sam and I held Lance upright. His spine bowed and twisted bending his torso forward.

"Remind me never to piss you off. I didn't think this was possible," Sam said as he stared at he changes in Lance's body.

"What's happening to me?" Lance asked as his bone structure changed in side his body. I felt his arms grow longer as his chest barreled out. His shoulders drooped forward and his hands grew.

"Why am I changing? This all feels so strange," Lance bent forward and rested on his knuckles. He moaned as the bones in his neck and head became simian. The top of his head formed a crest and his jaw grew outward. He stood up and mockingly beat his chest, not realizing the changes in his body. I fed him another Chocolate Gorilla.

"Me big man! Me like what's happening! Me want sex with you two!" Lance said, his voice deeper and rougher, but still human. He made a few "oooohks" and "aaahks" like a gorilla. Lance pulled us both against his body with his new and incredibly strong arms. He rested his large, simian hands on Sam's and my crotches. He squeezed and caressed both our cock and balls.

"Little boys gotta get undressed. Big man wants little boys' naked or big man rip off little boys' clothes," Lance said. Lance stood shorter and stooped like a gorilla, but his reach was longer.

I whispered to Sam: "We better humor him and remove our shirts."

"But he's still a pink gorilla," Sam said as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt revealing well-muscled arms and chest. I'm nicely built, but Sam looked like a Greek god. Lance's long arms reached out and tweaked Sam's nipples. I took off my shirt and invited Lance to fondle me. His body started to stiffen and he moved slower. Lance grabbed my head and pulled me to my knees right in front of his smallish gorilla cock and extra large balls.

"Suck it!" he commanded in a rough voice and yanked my head into his hairless unit. I felt his arms and hands stiffen as I fought not to touch the small, reddish prong of his cock. I twisted away, stood up, and twisted out of his grip.

Lance's body completed its transformation into a gorilla and started to stiffen. I grabbed his larger-than-human simian hands and forced him to assume a chest-beating position while watching his new and powerful muscles flexed and strained. In a few minutes, his body was rock hard. His eyes could still move and they darted back and forth between us.

"He's a stiff, hairless, pink gorilla. What do we do with him now?" Sam asked.

"Just wait, there's more to this," I said as I put my bare arm around Sam's muscular shoulders.

Thick black and silver hair started to grow all over Lance's body. Sam just stared as the hair grew out and reached nearly six inches in length. It covered his body completely. Lance had a handsome silver streak down his back. I watched Lance's eyes as he sobered up and realized just what happened. His eyes betrayed his struggle to move, but that was not to be.

"See, a big hairy gorilla. By tomorrow morning, he'll turn to chocolate," I said.

"And he knows what's happening?" Sam asked me.

"Yes, he'll be aware of the change for a few hours. Let's leave him alone with his thoughts," I suggested. The next day, Sam and I "tasted" Lance by breaking off his cock and making it into the dessert of the day. It was first rate chocolate. We fixed Lance and put him on the display platform. He made a magnificent centerpiece for the Mardi Gras. Then we used him as our source of chocolate for the better part of a year before we ran out of chocolate and had to buy more.

Sam and I became close friends and had a long and profitable stay at the restaurant.

2360 words more or less

Chocolate Gorilla
Ingredients:
4 oz cold milk
3 oz chocolate syrup
2 oz banana syrup
4 oz fresh Hot espresso
Whipped cream (whipped to a frenzy)
Chocolate topping powder

Instructions:
Steam the milk with the banana syrup and allow to sit
Pour the chocolate syrup in the bottom of two 6 oz cups...1 oz in each
Prepare two cups of espresso and pour each into a cup
Stir the espresso/chocolate mixture gently
Gently add the hot, steamed milk until the cup is about 2/3 full
Mix the foam with the whipped cream lightly and spoon on the top of the hot cappuccino to form a peak.
Drizzle the chocolate syrup down the peak in a spiral using 1/4 oz on each cup
Dust lightly with the chocolate topping powder