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“I’ll have the Banana Bust ‘a Nut pancakes.” said Trevor, handing the menu back to the waiter.

Sam barely heard him. He was still gawking at the menu. Although he had never been to an IHop, he hadn’t imagined ‘Breast Milk Pudding’ to be listed as an appetizer.

“Would you like another minute?” Asked the waiter politely.

“Uhh. Uhm. No… I’ll have the…” Sam scanned the menu quickly. In a nervous haste he landed his eyes “I’ll have the Beef Curtain French Toast with the…” Sam paused for a moment. “Period Blood Drizzle.” He added slowly. He just couldn’t believe what he was reading.

The waiter leaned in to grab the menu and in a drawn out, deep whisper, he said, “That one’s my favorite.” He looked directly into Sam’s eyes and licked his lips. Sam shuddered, starting to regret his choice.

“The reason I asked you to lunch,” began Trevor suddenly, “is because you haven’t been acting yourself lately.” He leaned in closer. “Your productivity is down 13% from last quarter, your co-workers note you never leave your cubicle during break, as if you are actively avoiding them, and everytime I walk by you just look,” He stopped. Sam could tell he was about to say something personal. “depressed.”

Sam knew he was saying this out of genuine concern. Trevor was a good boss. He actually did care about his employee’s well being. But Trevor was also a businessman, and Sam’s falling numbers looked bad for the both of them.

“I just want you to know that I’m here for you, man.” Trevor laid his arms across the table beckoning Sam. Sam looked at him confused for a moment then took his hands. He almost pulled away at the ice cold touch.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I… I don’t know.” Stammered Sam. Tervor continued to stare into Sam. Sam looked away, he was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. No one had asked him how he felt before. In fact he had never really had anyone to talk to. His parents were long dead and he had no girlfriend. Hell, he had never actually been on a date. The freezing sensation in his hands was withering away the shock of the personal question. He began to feel calm

“I guess, I’ve just felt a little lost lately.” Started Sam, “Work has become boring and mundane. It feels like…” Sam was searching for the right words, “It feels like I wasn’t meant to do this. Like, I’m supposed to do something else with my life. Like, right now I have no…”

Before he could finish his sentence the waiter came over with their food. “Banana Pancakes for you.” He set the plate in front of Trevor. “And french toast.” he handed Sam his meal.

Despite the grotesque names, the food actually looked quite delicious. The pancakes were a perfect golden brown, and the french toast, fluffy and crisp, had a perfect amount of powdered sugar dusted over top like newly fallen snow.

Sam looked around for some strawberry syrup when, seemingly out of nowhere, the waiter jumped up onto the table and dropped his pants facing Trevor, exposing his bare ass to Sam. The waiter then started ferociously masturbating. With each pump of the wrist his muscles contorted then relaxed. The moans of passionate sexual pleasure pierced Sam’s ears, paralyzing his brain. “What the fuck.” Was the only thought Sam could conjure, stuck in his head on repeat like the catchy chorus to a new pop single.

Sam was finally able to subdue his shock just enough to look at Trevor. He was just sitting there, patiently, smiling up at the waiter as if waiting for something. The moans began to reach a higher pitch. With a final ear ringing scream the waiter ejaculated. His sperm rained down onto Trevor’s pancakes soaking them in a creamy white syrup.

“Thank you.” said Trevor passively, grabbing his knife and fork.

The waiter then turned violently toward Sam. Sam looked up. His eyes widened in horror. Where there should have been a penis, there was only a red mess of a vagina. The waiter stepped out of his pants towards Sam. He slowly squatted over Sam’s french toast. If Sam would have been looking at the waiter’s face he would have seen an expression of dull pain, but all he saw was blood starting to drip onto his food. The dripping turned into a steady flow, then a torrential downpour. The stinging smell of iron overpowered all of Sam’s senses. “WHEN!” the word found Sam’s lips before he could even think it. The flow stopped immediately.

The waiter stepped backwards into his pants and pulled them up, fastened his belt, and stepped off of the table. Bowing he smuggly said, “Enjoy.” before walking away.

“What was it you were saying?” asked Trevor, devouring his pancakes while looking at Sam. Each piece he dipped into the thick ivory sperm that had pooled on his plate.

Sam didn’t answer. He was still staring at the gory massacre that was once his french toast.

“Eat up. You might find your words in your food.” Said Trevor, almost like a loving grandma that thinks their grandchild is too skinny.

Sam was on autopilot. The insane turn of events he had just witnessed broke him. Without thinking, he picked up his knife and fork and began eating. The food was sublime. The metallic tinge of the bloody condiment perfectly mixed with the powdered sugar and egg battered toast creating a flavor that was absolutely euphoric.

“Feeling any better?” asked Trevor.

“Not really.” replied Sam. He had somewhat regained control of himself, but was still in a stupor.

“This should help.” Trevor looked above Sam and nodded. All of a sudden Sam was restrained. He couldn’t have moved, even if he wanted to. The waiter had snuck up behind Sam and put him in a hold. Trevor climbed up onto the table and came toward Sam on all fours. Looking at Trevor, Sam saw an expression of compassionate concern. Trevor’s face was now just inches from Sam’s. “Just let it happen.” Trevor whispered into Sam’s ear.

Trevor slid a few fingers of each hand into Sam’s mouth and pulled his Jaw open. Sam didn’t resist. He was petrified from the shock. Trevor opened his own mouth and began gagging. With each wrench of the gut a gurgling sound croaked from Trevor’s throat. Suddenly, a laminar flow of bile, partially digested pancakes, and semen, spewed from Trevor’s mouth, directly into Sam’s. Sam’s throat opened on its own, as if welcoming the sick.

After a few seconds Trevor closed his mouth, wiped it with a nearby napkin, and returned to his seat. The waiter let go of Sam.

Sam could feel Trevor’s essence creep down his throat deep into his stomach. He sat there in stunned silence. All of a sudden he felt a punching sensation from inside. “More of a kick.” The thought flashed in his mind before he looked down and dropped his jaw. His belly had swelled as if a cancerous tumour had been festering inside for months, untreated because, well, he had come to care for it. Loving the tumor as an extension of himself. Loving it more than himself.

A jolt of intense pain raced through his body. His breath quickened. He looked up to Trevor.

“It has begun.” Trevor brought the knife to his own throat and ran it across. A fountain of blood came pouring out. Trevor gave one last gurgle before collapsing on the floor. Lifeless.

Another jolt of pain. Sam instantly forgot about Trevor. That wasn’t important right now “Whoooo. Whooo. Who” The pace of Sam’s breath quickened. The pain was becoming more frequent and more violent. He couldn’t take much more of this. It had to stop. Sam stood up. His feet were soaking wet. His whole leg was wet. A sudden realization hit Sam like the wakening from a nightmare. He collapsed.

Sam awoke screaming in agony. He felt his sphincter stretch to an unnatural diameter. The tearing pain raced through Sam contorting every single muscle in his body

“Push!” screamed the waiter, standing at Sam’s feet. Sam looked around. He was lying on the table he and Trevor had been eating at. Trevor’s lifeless corpse lay crumpled in a pool of blood stemming from his throat.

“Push!” the waiter screamed at Sam again from between his legs. Sam instinctually pushed. Trying to force an impossibly large foriegn mass out of his comparatively small asshole. The pain was too much. He just wanted this to be over.

“I know it hurts, but your body was made for this. You have to push. It’s almost over.” pleaded the waiter, but to Sam he may as well have been speaking Latin. He was in too much pain to listen to any kind of instructions. It was the desperation in the voice that finally got through to him. With an ear shattering scream Sam gave one final push. He had never felt so much pain and so much relief at the same time. A slimy mess of blood, after birth, and something else withdrew from his body.

Sam’s vision waned going in and out like a strobe light. The waiter wrapped something up in his arms from between Sam’s legs wiping it down thoroughly with a blanket. Sam heard a cry. He blacked out

When Sam came to, he was still lying on the table, The waiter stood over him with a bundle in his arms.

“Oh look daddys awake.” said the waiter in a quiet voice. “Would you like to meet your son, Sam.” Sam gently took the bundle without question. In it was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen. A life. A purpose.

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