The bowl shifted again, swirling the numbing mix of ice cubes and frigid water in which Dan found himself almost completely immersed, as the chef carried the bowl from the table to a work space next to the restaurant's main stove. The chef smiled down at the plump lobster and said aloud, in a moment of pride for his vision, "You will be perfect for my famous Lobster Thermidor!"
In the bowl, Dan squirmed feebly, his body almost completely paralyzed by the cold. He managed to periscope his eyestalks above the frozen cubes to survey the huge human.
The man filled a towering cooking put with water and activated a burner. As he waited for the water to boil, he added a pinch of salt and then directed his attention to gathering other ingredients for the gourmet dish, including eggs, a bottle of brandy, a pot of mustard, and some grated Gruyere cheese.
"I don't think I'll ever feel warm again," Dan thought, incorrectly.
He still fantasized about escape, if only to enhance the intoxicating feelings that came with the futility of such mental exercises now that he had become a mere commodity on the menu of the town's most elegant restaurant.
The chef peeked into the tall kettle and saw the water had reached a roiling boil. With a smile, he reached for Dan. He used his hand, not a pair of tongs, to deliver the incapacitated lobster from bowl to cooking pot.
For an instant, Dan welcomed the feel of warm steam caressing his chilled shell. Then the man dropped him, headfirst, into the boiling water and slammed the lid down.
His duration in the icy bath protected him for a few milliseconds before the full force of being submerged in boiling water triggered a cascade of physical reactions. Legs scrambled in the darkness, claws scratched at the smooth, metal walls, as Dan heard a distant shrieking. "It's me!" Dan realized in shock. "Oh my god. It's me!" He was screaming, wordlessly of course, as the boiling water began to transform his dull shell into a vibrant red.
The agony washed over him in waves. He felt like he had been trapped in a loop, on the verge of the best orgasmic release of his life, only to be thwarted at the last instant. After an eternity, or 22 minutes for the chef, a pair of metal tongs plucked the perfectly-cooked lobster from the pot and returned Dan to the bowl of ice. His body, radiating heat, rapidly reduced the remaining cubes to a cool puddle.
Dan had been cooked. Boiled alive! But he still sensed his surroundings despite immobile antennae and inert eyestalks. The chef picked up a large knife and stabbed him through the underside of the shell. Dan felt the blade saw through his carapace, splitting him in two. The chef put aside the two halves of Dan before he scooped what meat he could obtain from Dan's severed head.
For Dan, the agony of the pot merely entered a new phase as he felt his body ripped, torn, cracked, stabbed, sliced, and diced. The chef twisted off Dan's claws with almost inaudible little pops. Using a lobster cracker, he shattered the claws and removed the succulent meat. He then probed and prodded until he removed every scrap of plumb lobster flesh from the discarded tail.
He made a stuffing of the harvested lobster flesh, eggs, cheese, shallots, herbs and spices, that he spooned into Dan's two broken halves. A squeeze of lemon, a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and Dan's shattered shell returned to the oven long enough to broil to a nice golden brown. A creamy mustard-based sauce got ladled over Dan after his removal from the oven and transfer to a serving platter. Sprigs of green garnish and his claws, a decorative touch merely, were added to the appetizing presentation.
Dan slept for a spell. When he regained something like consciousness, he saw a smile of delight as a beautiful young woman beamed down at the platter delivered by the server. "The chef made for you his specialty," the server announced. "Lobster Thermidor!"
The woman picked up a fork and twisted it in the mix, stabbing a piece of Dan's sweet lobster flesh in the process. She tasted it. The smile widened. "That is the best thing I've ever tasted!" She forked another portion and held it across the table to her date. "You've got to try this!"
Dan felt a shivery thrill at the knowledge the woman took such joy in dining on him. But, with each bite she took, Dan's thoughts became more wispy, more incoherent, as the woman savored every bite of her new favorite seafood dish.
Dan also lamented the condition of his former lobster body. The ruin of his red shell looked stark as the woman emptied it of the lobster meat and other tasty ingredients. He didn't really need or want to hear the woman's date as he made a barely disguised double entendre about dessert possibilities. She gave a coquettish smile and appeared to concur.
Dan felt himself fading away, like a late-season snowflake on a spring morning. He had done it! He had experienced the ultimate fantasy, but now he simply wanted...
The woman took the last bite of the fantastic dish and pushed the plate back. Meanwhile, Dan returned home for the promised re-spawn.