Like fuel on a fire Casey's smell ignites my hunger causing me to flail against my restraints. Her terrified whimper seeps into my dwindling conscious and calms my compulsion just enough to allow a glance upward. She is naked and cowering in a tightly bound fetal position in the corner of the feeding pen. We are two animals: hunter and prey –trapped in a glass arena for the entertainment of an evil audience.
I peer through the glass and note numerous eyes focused intently on me – willing me to eat. Their wish will be granted: soon.
Time is not on my side; the compulsion to consume is spreading through my empty carcass like a virulent cancer.
I drop my head and fight the powerful pangs that are pushing me toward Casey. My diminishing rationale is still enough to allow me understand the profound cruelty of this situation.
"He's certainly resisting." These words from a male observer momentarily distract me from the compulsion. When I feel a pang about to punch I listen intently for more distracting words.
"He won't last long, that girls big, young and fresh, he'll pounce and pulverize soon."
"Well done for organizing this Dale, you did a great job."
"I second that, Dale's such a valuable member of D:Association: young, handsome and popular, we're real confident he can convert more young people over to our side. I have a huge appreciation for Dale."
"I'm teaching him the Art of Reanimation, he's a natural – he reanimated those boars."
"Who reanimated the Doc at Arlington?"
"Dr Shaheed did."
"Hey, look, this reanimate's getting close, he's showing signs of end stage super strength – grab the popcorn and sit back folks."
"We have popcorn?"
"I'm joking."
"Whoah, Dr Shaheed, are you sure this feeding pen is safe? This reanimate's ready to pop – I don't want to be desert."
"Absolutely sure. Now keep quiet people and watch as the reanimate continues to resist. This is incredible, we could have the power to reanimate and have some control over our dead, it's a mind blowing concept."
......
My carcass is stretching against my restraints, lacerating the leathery skin around my ankles.
The fearful sounds that come from Casey are mixed with her delicious smell, reminding me – that I'm a desperate and dangerous monster.
Her voice, soft and soothing, takes the edge off a powerful pang, "Do it Kirk, give them what they want. I need this over quickly," she pleads.
"No. Not yet," I say. A small amount of hope still sits with me.
"Please – I'm suffering real bad Kirk. This is torture – death will be a release – please do it!" I know she is resigned to her end.
Casey's words and smell are a potent mix. I am losing control. Her temptation is too strong.
One super strong jolt and my restraint snaps and slaps the glass with a force that proves the solid, constraining strength of this feeding pen – there is no way out.
I glance at my audience and note their intense eyes and salivating smiles.
Finally – the last vestige of human rational and discipline is sucked from me – my ravenous carcass crashes on its cowering prey.
