"Chowderhouse" was the subject of the e-mail; the actual message space was left empty. Just, "Chowderhouse." The men who got it knew what it meant. They showed up at Zaiger's place, at 9:05 pm - chowdertime. They came in robes, long and white to conceal professional trappings: suits and ties and uniforms and the like. They were men of some power. Each hid his face. The procession of white robbed men may have looked strange to Zaiger's neighbours, but each was fairly inoculated to the weirdness that was Zaiger's house. After all, as he had made it plainly clear in conversation, he made income from "editing a wiki" - the neighbours assumed that wiki was Wikipedia, since they knew no other; and so, assumed the long procession of white clad men was some sort of meeting of editors; some group of sages. Either way, the neigbours figured Zaiger was not the meek kind of fag - no... Zaiger was not the kind of fag you'd want to mess with. So they let him be. Inside the house, the group of men had cast aside their robes and taken seat around an old fashioned white porcelain bathtub - the kind with gilded feet and ornate faucets. The tub sat in the middle of the tiled washroom. The room itself was cavernous, clad in small marble tiles from roof to wall to floor below, that glowed with an unsettling midnight blue. The room was easily capable of holding all 13 men in attendance, including their host, Chowder Cook Zaiger, who had just appeared through the archway outside the door, beyond the bathroom -- "Gentleman," Zaiger spoke in a thin lisp, "tonight's chowder is truly ffffresh." He motioned with his hand to an unseen guest, hidden in the shadows of the long hall. "In true Bostonian style, this chowder is the catch of the day: taken from the Dusky Heights soccer field during practice, right after 3rd period - all sweaty and sun brazen, under his loving parents nose, even! - I present to you, tonight's chowder: Tuff Little Travis!!" "OOooooooo!!!" the men gasped in unison, as the captive boy was shoved into the washroom from behind with a hard push by Zaiger, made to stand nude before the men. Zaiger, behind the boy, like a pervy puppet master, grabbed Travis by the wrists, as Travis was covering his genitals with the flat of his hands. Zaiger pulled up, spreading Travis' hands into a vulnerable, Christ-like form so that his genitals were completely uncovered, left to dangle - free to be seen. The guests wee plunged instantly into an erotic frenzy. The mob of men reached a new cresendo with the "ooo'ing" and "awww'ing" of perverts and the smacking of lips of cannibalistic pedophiles. From the back ranks, one of the least inhibited shouted: "DRAW THE BATH WATER!!! MAKE THAT BABY BUBBLE AND SCREAM!!!!!" As the antique tub filled with sacred water, Zaiger, still clutching the boy in his spider-vice-like grip, began to shout in disorganized prayer: "Back all sweet with prickly sweat / kness drenched in testicle nectre / balls so sweet - surely, at their best / dick, like spice / arms, sunkissed, bent, and slender / neck, so strong to carry the weight of _our_ world / chin so spiked and lips so new that one might slip into pools to get at HIS reflection..." As the tub filled to the brim, Zaiger took note and commanded his followers, "It is done!!" The tub was filled with hotter than normal water. "CHOWDER TIIIIME!!!" Lord Zaiger hissed!!! (An erection was obviously visible.) Zaiger cast the young boy into the hot bathtub water. The men cast their semen. Travis squealed. But the men held him down, pushing him beneath the water. A dark grey of dirt rose from Travis, into the water; bubbles escaped from his frantic mouth. The men washed him perversely clean, scrubbing... every... inch... of the boy. Zaiger jacked it. The men jacked it more, into the tub. "Jellyfish" clung to Travis; stuck to his hands, as they reached out of the water... The boy screamed. Zaiger bonked him on the head with a small but ornate metal mallet. Travis slipped under the "waves" of the turbulent tub water, frenzied by the hand-fishes and jacking off of deeply and severely disturbed men. As the final, small bubbles gurggled from Travis' mouth, it became apparent to all that, at last, the boy had drowned. "CHOWDER IS SEVERED," Lord Zaiger proclaimed. Like pigs to the slop bucket, the men all gathered 'round the tub on their knees, fighting and shoving at one another to get head level at the water - to drink of the drowned boy, and occasional gob. Gulp by gulp, the men, led by Zaiger, drank all the bath water; jellyfish and everything. _Hot Boy Soup._ "Chowder," they covertly called the drowning water. They claimed they could taste the boys sweat, his tears, his , his legs, his foreskin, his frenzy - they could taste all of the boy in the water, including his "essence;" or, his soul. It was as if every gulp of the Hot Boy Soup went naught to their stomaches but directly down, deeper, to their dicks; as with every gulp, the men's es swelled and ballooned - like sand poured into a sock - until they were fully hard like queerly frozen waterbeds.. The bath water gone, Gay Lord Zaiger pronounced, "And now for the delight of delights!!!" "OOOOMMMMMMM!!!" the men grunted savagely in reply, sliding their hands beneath the dead boys back, hoisting him reverently from the tub, onto the cold floor. Zaiger, at the instant, ready, slid on top of the drowned boy and readied his slender, pinkie-finger-like shaft at level with the dead boy's own dick, which two of the male helpers held falsely erect; another pried the meatus open wide. "Z'HALYLA FAAG'TAUHGIN!!!" Zaiger, in a thick Boston accent proclaimed. He reamed the dead boy's dick with his own [much smaller] cock. "FAG'TAUGHIN!! FAG'FAG'FAGFAG'TAUGHIN!!'" sung the men, in chorus. Zaiger crammed his tiny cock down the dead boy's urethra, which swelled up several times its size; like a Satanic cobra, having swallowed a sacrificial lamb. Zaiger began furiously pounding the inside of Travis' dick with his own - he fucked the boy's dick, hunching over him... The male guests placed an open hand on Zaiger's bare ass, and shoved in unison; helped push their Chowder Lord down, making his thrusts harder - deeper - as if he was wearing a heavy backpack - until at last Zaiger insanely came with a woman-like gurgle and a giggle: blowing a furious load deep down the dead boy's tube. Travis' eyes, though dead, snapped open; starving wide-eyed at the "ob-scene." "And now," fuckin' Zaiger, proclaimed, "the soul harvesting may at last conclude!!!!!! 2011 WAS A PRETTY GOOD YEAR!!!!!!!!!" he screeched excitedly at the top of his lungs. With hands naught gingerly, he jacked the dead boy's dick, too hard, from the base-up, many times; until at last his own cum shot meters up, in pearl gobs, from the drowned boys venerated corpse - as if it was the boy's own. The men, back in ritual attire, deanded on the dick as they had done on the tub: like pigs 'round the trough- they licked furiously at their master's spilled semen. The more frenzied men bit and gnawned at the killed kid's balls, gnashing their teeth and brushed their gruff chins and coarse hairs against the fragile inside of the sacrificial boy's thighs. With a dull thud, Zaiger's dropped his metal hammer down onto his own dick and balls with such force that his junk was crushed inwards; inverted, to resemble the gaping maw of a crone's . He rubbed the child's blood over his descimated pit, in a sickening mockery of the miracle of childbirth, and proclaimed: "THE BIRTH HATH BEEN PERFORMED! THE CHOWDER ONCE MORE HATH FLOWED! WE HAVE CONSUMED A WORTHY BOY-AND ONCE MORE, WE ARE ALL HOT BOYS. 2011 WAS A PRETTY GOOD YEAR!!!!!!!!" The men seemed to vapourize, fading into the blackness of the shadows, returning to ordinary year. Their sexual sadism fulfilled by Gay Lord Zaiger. "Until next year" hissed Zaiger, rubbing his indented "pussy" over the child's ravaged corpse.