STORY: ‘The Other White Meat’ by Paul G. Bens, Jr.

  Winters in Benison’s Pass, Kentucky, were a real bitch. They were long, frigid and boring, and the ever expanding drifts of snow made controlling a cherry-red ‘67 Mustang...


Winters in Benison’s Pass, Kentucky, were a real bitch. They were long, frigid and boring, and the ever expanding drifts of snow made controlling a cherry-red ‘67 Mustang dangerous business, especially when you’ve only been driving for a little over a year. But tonight was February 19th, 1992, an extra special night, and Tony Maston had extra special plans for him and his girl; so he’d brave any weather, challenge any turning, twisting road to make this a night to remember. It was their anniversary. A good time was guaranteed for one and all.

Tony Maston and Marilyn Sworran had been dating for two months exactly, and this very cold, icy night was full of promise. Tony was finally going to get some action. Marilyn had all but promised him that. At least that’s the way Tony saw it. Then again, that’s the way he wanted to see it. What Marilyn had actually said was that if he could be exclusive for thirty days, she would consider taking the relationship “to the next level.” Tony’s seventeen year-old brain, of course, never heard the word “consider,” and the “next level” just had to be sex… or at least a good blow job.

Some good old-fashioned head would be a welcome relief. Being a star quarterback for the local high school, Tony wasn’t used to girls holding out on him. Most were willing, if not eager, to bed down with the hunk who’d taken their team all the way to State Finals and then on to the Championship. Getting laid on a regular basis (along with a steady supply of free pot) was one of the perks of high school jockdom. But Marilyn was different. She didn’t give in like the trailer trash girls or the socialites’ daughters, and that intrigued him; made getting into her pants not only a challenge, but a mission of near-biblical proportion.

So, Tony had gone without for an entire month. He’d even stopped whacking off for the last week to make the victory even sweeter. His balls couldn’t get any bluer if he were sitting naked in one of the snowdrifts on the side of Narrows Road.

Like all horny boys, Tony loved Narrows Road. It was dark, twisty and surrounded by acres and acres of dense woods. The street, more crumbling potholes than actual pavement, didn’t have the luxury of lighting and it was, as its name implied, unusually narrow. On a night like tonight, with sub-zero temperatures and a light snow falling, it was the perfect setting for a scare lay. Tell some inane urban legend, pretend the car won’t start, and you’re poised to save the day. Pussy wouldn’t be far behind. It had worked for hundreds of boys over the years.

The perfect gentleman, Tony held Marilyn’s hand as he expertly maneuvered down the road toward the abandoned train trestle where everything was set to begin. As they rounded the last curve before their destination, the headlights washed over the trestle pylon ahead, and Tony panicked, wrestling to turn the lights off before Marilyn saw the graffiti painted on it. Luckily, she had been looking out the passenger window and missed the hormonal literature: Lisa gives great head in fluorescent green and its nearby response So does Hank in dripping copper.

Tony brought the car to as casual a stop as he could manage. They sat quietly for a few moments, the engine running, and the car getting warmer from the heater and the anticipation.

“Why are we stopping here?” Marilyn asked, giving a knowing toss of her strawberry blonde hair and a rehearsed, shy smile.

“It’s romantic here,” Tony told her as he switched on the old AM radio. Low, quiet strains of Johnny Mathis coaxed the moment. “You see, the train doesn’t run on this trestle anymore, but the hills here really catch the sound of the trains running through Crescent Springs.”

As if on cue, a train that was miles away gave up a sorrowful, lonely howl. Tony couldn’t have planned that if he had tried. He leaned in, took Marilyn’s face in both his hands and kissed her lightly on the lips. It was a move he’d seen Harrison Ford do countless times, and everybody knew that every girl wanted to fuck good old Harry. It was sweet and tender and led Marilyn right where Tony wanted her to go.

Things got hot and heavy after that. Marilyn worked her hands under Tony’s shirt and felt his nipples go hard in her hands. Tony returned the favor, feeling the weight of her breasts fill his hands as he slid his tongue as delicately into her mouth as his fervor allowed.

He wanted it now. He deserved it. His dick was about ready to explode. It was gonna happen, he was sure of it, and ever so lightly he put his hand on her leg, worked his way up under her skirt. His fingers grazed the cotton panties she wore, explored the elastic around the leg, and danced as they felt the few stray strands of pubic hair his awkward position gave him access to.

“I think,” Marilyn said as she broke from the kiss and gingerly removed Tony’s hand from her crotch, “we’d better stop.”

Tony wanted to scream at her, hit her, or throw her from the car. Nobody did this to Tony Maston! Nobody made him endure thirty fuckless days and then say no! But if football had taught him nothing, it taught him to be prepared with a back-up play.

“Whatever you think,” he said as he kissed her lightly on the eyes. “Let’s just sit here, listen to the music for a while”

Sinatra was playing on the radio now. Of course Tony didn’t know that. It was just another dead guy to him, but the music set the mood, and Marilyn settled into his arms.

“Hey, have you heard the story about this road?” He asked.

“What story?”

“Oh, come on, you had to have heard it,” he sighed, catching her eyes in his. He also managed to get a glimpse at his watch. The timing was perfect.

“This isn’t that stupid lovers lane thing with Captain Hook, is it?” She asked.

Tony shook his head. “Not Captain Hook… and, no, it’s not that story. It’s the story of Old Man Narrows and the Pig Lady.”

Marilyn laughed out loud, “Oh come on!”

Tony crossed his chest with his fingers and gave the Boy Scout pledge. “Swear to God. You can look it up in the library tomorrow if you want.”

Marilyn sat up, smiled and saw that he was serious. “Okay, tell me about Old Man Narrows and the Pig Lady.”

Tony held out his arms, an invitation to nuzzle into his chest and relax. It was an invitation Marilyn gladly accepted.

“Well,” he started, licking his lips at the well-rehearsed story. “Old Man Narrows, see, he’s the guy who first built this road. Except it wasn’t really a road, just a long driveway up to his and the Pig Lady’s house.” Marilyn giggled loudly and Tony gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “C’mon, this is serious… true stuff.”

She laughed again, “Yeah, right!”

Tony took his arms from around her and put his hand on the steering wheel in defiance. “Okay, if you don’t wanna hear it…”

“No, I want to.” She watched his determination not to tell. “C’mon.”


She tickled his ribs a bit, but he didn’t crack. He was not going to continue if she didn’t take it seriously. She leaned in, kissed him on the lips, just slightly tracing them with her tongue. Finally he relented and took her into his arms.

“Okay, now, no more interruptions.”

She returned the Boy Scout pledge.

“See, Old Man Narrows was a Carny barker like fifty years ago. He traveled all though the south with this little band of gypsies and tramps. He was in charge of the freak show. You know, the fat lady, snake man, werewolf boy, real twists of nature. One day, somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee, he met this woman about his age who was huge and had a pig face. Well, he thought this was just great… something kinda unique for the carnival and so he invited her to join up with them. And she did. What Old Man Narrows didn’t count on was that this woman would be so smart and funny. He fell in love with her even though she had a big pig snout and huge pig jowls and sharp pig teeth.”

“I bet,” Marilyn poked Tony in the ribs, managed her most serious voice, “he never once asked her for a blow job.”

Tony laughed a little, and then let his voice take a deeper, haunting tone. “No, he didn’t. But one night, in the freak tent, they did have sex. And it was the most incredible sex Narrows had ever had. But as they were lying naked in each other’s arms, the owner of the Carny walked in on them. He was disgusted. He screamed at them, got his shotgun and chased ‘em off. Said sex between a man and a pig lady wasn’t natural and that they weren’t welcome in this Carny or any other, he’d make sure of that.”

“And so?”

“So, they ran off together. It was true enough that they couldn’t find work. All the other Carnies heard about their pig sex. So, Old Man Narrows took whatever work he could find to put food on the table. He worked so hard that eventually they had a little nest-egg saved up. They headed north, ended up in Benison’s Pass, and built a little cabin in these woods.”

Tony pointed through the windshield up towards a little light high on a hill. “See that light? That’s the house way up there. The pig lady and her pig kids still live there today.”

“Wait a minute!” Marilyn shook her head. “What happened to Old Man Narrows. Were the kids his piglets?”

“That’s where the story gets interesting. Yes, they were his kids… all five of them. Well, the Carny owner they had worked for heard that they’d had kids and, when his caravan came into the area, he went lookin’ for ‘em with his shotgun in tow. He just didn’t think it was right what they were doing. He found the cabin in the woods, barged in, took one look at those kids with their baby pig faces, and blew Old Man Narrows away. It took two shells, but he blew his head clean off.”

Marilyn was getting into the story now, pulling closer to Tony and rubbing his chest with a soothing hand. “What about the Pig Lady and the kids?”

“When the Carny owner was reloading his gun, the Pig Lady launched herself right at him, bit his face off in one chomp. He dropped the gun immediately. It went off and killed one of the piglets… the only one who had been born with a normal face, the youngest of them. Well, the Pig lady didn’t know what to do with her husband gone. She couldn’t get work, what with a pig face and all, and neither could the kids. She didn’t know what to do. They all went hungry for a week before they finally started eating the bodies.”

“Oh, that’s gross.”

“Well, they didn’t care for it much, either.” Tony pointed to a flickering light in the woods just past Marilyn’s window. “See that… that’s a barrel fire where the Pig lady roasts people. See, they didn’t like them raw and bloody and all, so they started cooking people. You know, bums hanging out by the train tracks, trespassers, anybody who wandered into the woods.” He looked deep into her eyes and smiled a devastatingly handsome smile. “She still cooks somebody up every night.”

“And so,” Marilyn smiled back, “the moral of the story is ‘Don’t fuck with a Pig Lady’.”

They both laughed and then they kissed, their shared breath working into a passionate rhythm, when, right on time, a twig snapped outside their door.

“What was that?” Marilyn asked, breaking the kiss and looking out her window.

“What was what?” Tony leaned in for more action but she pushed him away.

“I thought I heard something.”

Tony switched off the radio and listened intently, knowing exactly what she had heard. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Sshhhh,” she chided.

Tony listened again, shook his head and then rolled down his window a bit. The cold air rushing in caught Marilyn by surprise, made the invisible hairs on her neck stand at attention. “What are you doing?”

Tony cocked his ear to the window. “Listening.”

Suddenly a large furry hand with stubby little fingers came through the open window and grabbed Tony by the throat. Marilyn screamed, tried to keep her love from being dragged into the cold winter night. She could just make out a large woman in a… was that a Donna Karan dress? She had a snout for a nose and made the most horrible squealing noise as she tried to work her face in through the open window.

“Fuck,” Tony screamed, gunning the engine and grasping helplessly for the gearshift. “Marilyn! Put the car in drive!”

Marilyn stopped screaming long enough to grasp the T-stick, push in the button, and drop it down to “D.” Tony slammed his foot on the gas and the car took off like a shot, tires throwing up iced gravel. The Pig Lady lost her grip and fell by the roadside.

When Tony looked up, his priceless Mustang was headed straight for a trestle piling. He slammed on the brakes, and the car fishtailed before the back quarter panel slammed into the concrete. Tony cursed under his breath. This was going to be an expensive lay. But he stepped on the gas and headed back up Narrows Road.

“Shit!” He huffed and puffed as they sped away. Tony wasn’t a great actor, but it was enough for this occasion. “I thought it was just a stupid story.”




The Pig Lady, her simple dress rippling in the wind, watched as the Mustang skied away and then she pulled off her head. Joshua Logan, Tony’s best bud and partner in sex crime, laughed his ass off as the taillights were swallowed by the darkness. It had gone off perfectly, even better than either of them had hoped. Slamming the car into the trestle, now that was a nice touch, and Joshua wondered whether it was intentional. It could have been. It wasn’t like Tony’s parents couldn’t afford to get it fixed, and he had done more extreme things in order to get what he wanted.

Joshua checked his watch. One hour. Tony would be back in one hour, and then he would get to hear all the gory details. How long did it take for her to give in? Was she tight? Did she let you come in her mouth? That was Joshua’s payoff for being a participant: he got to live vicariously through Tony’s dick, quite a treat for someone who’d never been laid (though that’s not what he led everyone to believe).

Shit, it was cold. Joshua needed to get back to the barrel fire. There his Gortex parka would be waiting, and he could sit comfortably until his master’s return. He trounced off into the woods, dodging the occasional icy branch that swiped at his face and only tripping three or four times over hidden roots.

The fire was starting to die, and as Joshua traded his feminine attire for the warmth of the jacket, he picked up a few logs and tossed them into the barrel. The fire came alive with pops and crackles, and Joshua spread his hands over it.

Somewhere nearby, the dormant, frozen branches of the forest seemed to come to life. There was a rustling to his left, a snort to his right. Joshua looked around, but saw nothing. Then there was the squeal, an ear-shattering call of the wild.

“Tony?” Joshua called, his voice wavering.

Joshua was surrounded.




Tony was fucking pissed off as he drove back down Narrows Road. That little bitch Marilyn had refused to give in, had let him leave with a huge hard-on and no place to put it. He’d tried to coax her into it for an hour after the Pig Lady had made her appearance, but all he’d gotten was the brush off. He left her standing on the sidewalk outside school, hadn’t even bothered to drop her at the top of her street let alone take her home. Luckily, as he gunned the Mustang’s motor and peeled out of Saint Genesius’ parking lot, he saw Mary Kay Longfellow. He’d already had her months ago, but that didn’t matter. He’d do her again. And he did, there in the back seat of his Mustang, for all of fifteen minutes.

Of course, Tony had forgotten completely about his accomplice. He was almost home when he remembered that Joshua was standing in the woods, freezing his ass off with a pig mask on his face. Tony couldn’t help but laugh, even though he knew Josh would be seriously pissed.

He pulled the Mustang to a stop right under the trestle, opened the door, and pulled his coat tight around him.

“Josh!” He called, the crisp night air making his words visible, almost like speech bubbles in a cartoon strip.

It was deathly quiet, every summer creature either frozen to death or deep in sleep until the thaw. Tony looked around and called out again. “Josh!!!! C’mon, man!” When Josh didn’t come running, Tony headed towards the barrel fire. He better not have walked home, the little fucker.

The fire was still going, but dying quickly away. Tony thought he saw Josh lying on the ground, just on the other side of the rusted barrel. Well, he saw his legs, anyway. The rest of him was hidden. Isn’t that just like Josh, Tony thought, that fucker can sleep anywhere.

“Josh, man, wake up,” Tony said as he came around the other side of the fire. He jumped back at the sight he saw.

A Pig Lady–honest to God, at least three hundred pounds–had her snout buried in Joshua’s face, chomping away in hog heaven. The snow around them was rife with crimson blood, and the Pig Lady gave a snort at the boy who’d interrupted motherly duties. But she didn’t stop, continued to strip layers of flesh from Josh’s body and fling them, with a flip of the snout, into the fire.

As the smell of burning flesh crawled up his nose, Tony backed away and tripped over his own feet. His face fell into cold, bloodied slush, and he had to fight not to vomit. He scrambled to get up, but the snow kept giving way under his feet; even if he could have gotten up, he couldn’t have gone anywhere.

He was surrounded by four piglets, all short and pudgy with their snotty snouts and razor teeth. One of them had a huge branch in its hands and whacked Tony in the face with it. It was the last thing Tony ever saw.

“Mama,” one of the piglets asked, “can we eat him now?”

The Pig Lady got up from her Joshua feast, swiped the blood and gore from her snout, and waddled over to them. “Now, kids, where are your manners. You know none of us eats until the whole family is here.”

The piglets, fully grown but dwarfed in their stature, let out a collective, disgusted chortle. Steven, the oldest of the group, stepped forward and snorted in disgust. “We always have to wait for her and she never eats anyway. She likes that McDonald’s crap.”

Pig Lady put her hand on her eldest’s shoulder. “This time will be different, honey.”

“They can go ahead and start,” Marilyn said as she stepped out of the woods and up to the fire. She warmed her hands a moment. “It’s okay, Mama, they’re hungry.”

The other piglets didn’t wait for their mother’s approval. They dove right in, some preferring the seared flesh from the fire, others chomping on Tony’s face, stomach or his “wings,” as they called his arms and legs.

Pig Lady walked up to her youngest daughter, put her arm around her and gave her a hug. “Try it, honey, you’ll like it.”

Marilyn just shook her head.

“She won’t eat it,” Steven snorted as he nibbled on a beefy forearm. “She hates everything.”

Marilyn thought about it for a moment. She really ought to try it. She never ate with the family and she knew that it bothered all of her brothers and sisters. Besides, she thought, Tony had always wanted me to eat him. So, she stepped forward. The other piglets stepped back, almost in reverence, as she knelt down in front of Tony’s desecrated body and thought about it. And then shoved her face into Tony’s crotch and gnawed with a crunch.

Steven let out a joyous squeal, even did a little pig dance. “She likes it, hey Mama!”

Blood tinged her pretty face as Marilyn raised her head. She had one of Tony’s testicles between her teeth and she bit down on it hard. It gave a squish, like an over-ripe grape, and she swallowed it down. She had a funny look on her face.

“What’s wrong, honey?” The Pig Lady asked.

Marilyn looked disappointed.

“It tastes like chicken.” 




Click here for reuse options!
Copyright 2013 [Nameless] Digest

Featured Online Fiction

Paul Bens lives in Los Angeles. His short fiction has appeared in "Cemetery Dance," "Dark Discoveries," "Velvet Mafia," "Outsider Ink," amongst others, as well as in the anthologies "The Devil's Coattails" and "Heavy Glow." He is a regular contributor to "Nameless," and his Black Quill award-winning novel "Kelland" is available from Lethe Press.
No Comment

Leave a Reply


error: Please use sharing tools to distribute content.
%d bloggers like this: