/lit/ - Literature

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Okay, last one for tonight. I'm always happier when I have a number of different projects to work on :-)

Pt 1

“What are you working on?” Mrs Marshall asked, looking at the computer screen over her husband’s shoulder. “Looks important from the way you’re frowning?”

“I was thinking about the idea the girls had for their birthday party,” her turned around and gave his wife an affectionate kiss. “Wanted to see if it was even possible.”

“What idea?” the young woman asked. “Oh wait, the cannibal thing?”

“That’s the one!” Mr Marshall replied with a grin.

“Oh right,” his wife frowned a little, “you don’t think they were serious about that, do you?”

“They sounded pretty serious.” her husband observed. “I guess we’d need to have another talk with them before we made any proper arrangements. But I wanted to see if it was even something that could be done, assuming they really wanted to, that is.”

“And can it? Mrs Marshall asked curiously, pulling a chair from the dining table and sitting down next to her husband to get a better look at the screen.

“Looks like it!” He brought one of the tabs to the front. It was a page from the official government website detailing the relevant laws. “It’s legal at least,” he observed, “there’s even a couple of restaurants that specialise it in. I was reading an article about it earlier. Seems they were started by some American businessman who has exclusive rights over there but British monopoly laws are a bit stricter so he couldn’t have that here. That means, technically, anyone who wants to can kill and cook little girls, as long as they’re the right age and they agree to it. All you need to do it fill in a form on the government site.” He clicked onto the relevant form to show her, it seemed fairly straight-forward and the only condition was that it was submitted at least forty eight hours before the planned slaughter.

“So, that’s good, I guess?” Mrs Marshall looked quizzically at her husband, hoping for some sort of guidance on how to feel about this discovery but, in truth, he was not sure either. “So how would we…?” She began, not quite able to finish the surreal sentence. It was okay as her husband knew her well enough to understand what he was asking.

“There’s a few places that rent out equipment for roasting whole pigs,” he explained, “should be suitable for doing to the girls on. If they want to go ahead, that is.”

“Yeah.” Mrs Marshall nodded, already picturing her twin daughters mounted on spits roasting to a delicious golden brown. “If they want to.”

“Their birthday’s not that far off.” Mr Marshall reminded his wife. “If we’re going to do this, we’d better start arranging stuff. I don’t know how many spits this company has to rent out and then there’s invitations to send out.”

“Yeah.” Mrs Marshall nodded slowly, still not sure how to feel about the idea of cooking and eating her young daughters. She knew the idea should have horrified her, that she should have wanted to do anything to protect them from such a fate yet there was something fascinating about the idea, something irresistibly captivating. “Why don’t we go talk to them?”

“Good idea.” Mr Marshall agreed, sliding his chair back away from the computer desk. “Do you suppose there’s even the tiniest chance they’re asleep already?” His wife glanced at her watch, noting that it was a little over an hour past the twins’ bedtime.

“Not a snowball in Hell’s!” she laughed and followed her husband up the stairs.

The Marshall twins, Hannah and Natasha, were less than a month away from their ninth birthday. Two days earlier, they had come home from school full of stories about explorers and cannibals that they had learned in school. After twenty minutes or so of excited chatter, they had told their mother that they wanted a cannibal-themed birthday party.

“What do you mean?” she has asked. “You want me to make the party food look like bits of people?” Before they even answered, she had started coming up with ideas based on Halloween party suggestions she had seen on Pinterest – hotdogs cut to look like human fingers, peeled lichee passed off as eyeballs, that sort of thing, but the girls’ answer had rather flummoxed her.

“No!” Natasha had giggled, “We want to be the party food!”

“That’s right!” Hannah had agreed enthusiastically. “We will be explorers and everyone else can cook and eat us!”

A little puzzled by this suggestion, Mrs Marshall had muttered something about having to ask their dad when he got home from work, then changed the subject. The girls had not brought up the topic since but their mum had kept her word and relayed the conversation to her husband. Like her, he could not deny finding the idea intriguing.

“Hey munchkins!” Mr Marshal gave a light knock on his daughters’ bedroom door as he pushed it open. The twins were both say up in bed, reading comics by the flash-lights on their phones as if that was somehow less conspicuous that simply leaving their reading lights on. Seeing their parents come in, the two pretty, chestnut-haired eight year-olds shoved their phones and the comics under their duvets and flung themselves onto their pillows, making comically unconvincing snoring sounds.

“Oh dear!” Mr Marshall spoke loudly and deliberately to his wife, trying his hardest not to laugh. “It looks like they’re asleep! And there was us really hoping they’d be awake so we could discuss their birthday party with them. Oh well, I guess they won’t mind if we just go to Pizza Hut again this year. I’ll send the invites out before I go to bed.”

“No!” Natasha sat bolt upright in bed.

“We’re awake!” Hannah exclaimed, sitting up and turning on her bedside light as if to confirm this. “We don’t want to go to Pizza Hut again this year!”

“Okay,” Mr Marshall chuckled, sitting down on the end of Hannah’s bed while Natasha switched her own reading light on and discretely tried to slide her phone onto her bedside cabinet as if she had not been using its flash-light to read by. “What do you want to do?”


Excellent start!!! I would like to see one of them on a spit, gutted and headless like a piglet, and the other butchered for steaks ands parts. Bonus some sex scenes…


I see both twins spit-roasted but it's like you read my mind about the other story in my head ;-)


I love this burst of creativity. I just hope you'll stick around this time, Edward.


I didn't intend to interfere, sorry if I offended you!!! 🙏


No offense taken in the slightest :-D I was just amused that you guessed a different story of mine! :-D


Yeah I don't quite know what got into me today! lol. I promise that,even if I step away from time to time, I won't delete my work again :-)


Pt 2

It took very little prompting for the twins to repeat everything they had talked about before about their desire for a cannibal-themed party at which they would be both the star guests, main attraction and main course!

“You do know if you get cooked and eaten you’d be dead, right?” Mrs Marshall coaxed gently, wondering this this bizarre request had come from a lack of thinking things through from the girls who had once asked for a real elephant for Christmas, insisting it could live in the garage, and suggested selling the house to pay for a holiday to Disneyland.

“Of course we know that!” Natasha rolled her eyes in a distinctly teenaged manner, despite being only eight years old. “We’re not stupid!”

“It just seems a strange thing to want.” Mr Marshall observed, trying to back his wife up a little despite how intrigued his internet searches had made him at the prospect of cooking his two young daughters. “If you’d said you wanted us to find some other girl for you to eat at your party then we might understand better…”

“And let someone else be the centre of attention at OUR party?” Hannah sounded quite indignant.

“Okay, okay!” Mr Marshall laughed in a placatory style, putting a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder. He knew that she would still have her reservations about the plan but it was clear that the girls were determined and they really did have to crack on with the planning, whatever form the party was going to take. At the very least, he thought to himself, if we go along with what they want they can always change their minds nearer the time, then we can still go with the theme but cook a couple of pigs instead and turn the whole thing into a joke.

“Well,” he grinned at the girls, “I guess if that’s how you really want to celebrate your birthday then we’ll make it happen!” The pyjama-clad cuties had practically exploded out from under their duvets, sending their clandestine comics fluttering to the ground, in their eagerness to shower their parents with hugs and kisses for agreeing to their request.

“They seem happy!” Mr Marshall joked to his wife once they had finally got the girls settled back into bed and closed the door, instructing them that they needed to make sure they got good nights’ sleeps from now on if they wanted to make sure their meat was juicy and not too stringy! Even his wife, as unsure as she still was about the whole idea, had to admit how heart-warming it had been to see their excitement.

Minutes later, Mrs Marshall poured herself a glass of wine and settled down in front of the TV to catch up with her favourite panel show while her husband returned to the computer. Setting the date was easy enough – the twins’ birthday would fall on a Friday so the next day, Saturday, was the obvious choice. That way they could have a nice final family celebration on their actual birthday before feeding themselves to their school friends the next. The location was not a problem – they were lucky enough to have a fairly large garden with patio and modest-sized swimming pool. A perfect location for what was planned.

With that confirmed, he returned to the site which hired out spitting equipment and requested two for the chosen day. Fortunately, the devices he needed were available that day and he opted to pay a little extra for delivery the evening before, just to be on the safe side. He was pleased to see that, including with the hire of the spits, was a set of butcher’s knives and other tools for, gutting, carving and dismembering of the carcass, should any meat remain at the end of the event.

Next on the agenda was invitations and he already had an idea for what he wanted to do. Searching back through their photos from their Christmas vacation, he found the picture he was looking for. The cabin they had been staying in had included an outdoor hot-tub, delightfully warm even ‘though surrounded by snow on all sides. Due to the remote location with no near-by neighbours, the Marshalls had had no issue with allowing the girls to skinny-dip as if taking an outside bath. This was something both girls had enjoyed greatly and he couldn’t help but wonder if the allure of outdoor and semi-public nudity was at least in part behind their birthday request. The picture he had in mind was taken from the side, showing the girls sat in the tub and grinning broadly with steam rising around them. At the time he had opted not to share this particular one on social media as if showed their bare chests a little too clearly and he wasn’t sure they would like their friends to be able to see it, not to mention the hassle of falling foul of the site’s increasingly over-cautious rules. He used the site quite extensively for work and could not risk getting banned. For this purpose, however, the photo would be perfect!

Half an hour on Photoshop later and they were no longer sat in a hot-tub but a large cannibal stew-pot over a cartoon fire and the background had been subtly edited to look like a jungle rather than a Scottish highland forest. He was sure the girls would be pleased and that it would get the point across about what to expect from the party even if it was not a strictly accurate depiction of how the girls would be cooked. He added the relevant text and printed out a sample copy for the girls to approve in the morning before he printed out the rest for them to give out to friends.

A fun idea then occurred to him and he visited the website of a party supply store. It took him only a couple of minutes to find exactly what he wanted – a pair of stereotypical explorer hats the right size for the girls! He was fairly certain they would not be expecting to wear any other clothes for the party but thought they would enjoy looking the part. He added them to his shopping cart then browsed the other bits and pieces on offer, deciding to order some flower lays and grass-skirts for the guests to wear if they wanted to and some inflatable palm-trees. For good measure, he clicked on the Halloween section and purchased a couple of skulls and one complete skeleton. Deciding that he would have time to order more if he needed to, he completed the order then wandered over to the window to look out at the garden and see if there was anything else they might need.

Returning to the computer, he found the website for a local hardware store and ordered three large bags of sand, a pair of tall fence posts and a length of rope advertised as soft and suitable for tying back curtains. He knew it was inevitable that the girls would experience some pain in the process of being prepped and cooked but there was no need to inflict more discomfort on them than absolutely necessary – the party was supposed to be fun for them too, after all!

Picking up and looking at the sample invite again, a thought occurred to him and he checked his phone for the number of an old friend of his he knew worked for a company that supplied props and sets to theatres. After brief pleasantries he explained the situation and what he was looking for. It turned out his friend had access to just the thing and was happy to let him hire it for the party at “mates’ rates”. Mr Marshall was delighted – he was sure his girls would get a kick out of it and their guests would have lots of fun. It would make a great photo opportunity! Feeling proud of his own creativity and fairly sure that he had done as much as he could do that night evening, he switched off the computer and went to join Mrs Marshall on the sofa for the end of the episode.

Before leaving for work the next morning, Mr Marshall went into the twins’ room to show them the invitation he’d designed. It was half an hour earlier than they would usually be woken up but he was sure they wouldn’t mind under the circumstances. Especially as, if they agreed the design, he could get the invitation cards printed at work on the industrial printer and they would be able to start giving them out the next day. As predicted, they giggled at the idea of giving out photos showing their bare chests but he pointed out to them that, at the party, the guests would be able to see everything! This made them giggle even more and blush a little. After a short conversation about the details and his reassurance that they would get cooked like pigs, not in a pot, and that the pot picture was just a sort of joke, the twins approved the design and he headed out to work.

After dinner that evening, the girls sat at the table with the stack of invites and a note-pad, discussing who they wanted to invite. After weighing them in the bathroom and checking a website for guidance on how much edible meat could be gleaned from girls of various heights and weights, Mrs Marshall had told them that they could invite twenty friends, allowing some food for her and their dad and the few other parents who would be invited to help out and would likely want a taste of the birthday girls. To be on the safe side, Mr Marshall had printed an extra ten invites in case of smudges, misspellings etc.

The box from the party store had come while they were at school and they were both wearing the explorer hats that would be all they wore for the party. They loved the lays and grass-skirts their dad had ordered and suggested that they tell all invitees to bring swimsuits so they could enjoy the pool while the meat was cooking.

Eventually, they settled on the twenty five friends they wanted to invite with a backup list of ten, in order of preference, in case anyone on the main list couldn’t make it or cancelled closer to the day. Walking past the bathroom later that evening while the girls were in the bath, their mum couldn’t help but be amused at hearing them appraising each others’ naked bodies and speculating how each different bit might taste! The next day at school, the invitations were given out and then the excitement began in earnest!


Pt 3

The big day finally came! There has been a lot of excitement when Hannah and Natasha had given out the invitations – some to friends at school, a few at their Brownie pack and some at their swimming class. Anyone given an invitation was told to keep fairly quiet about it as they could not invite everyone and didn’t want people to feel left out. There had certainly been giggling at the topless photo on the front and several questions about whether the promise of “Cannibal Cuisine” was real or whether it would be pretend body-parts like at a Halloween party. No matter how many times the twins insisted it was real, there were still those among their friends who refused to believe it but promised to come to the party “just to prove it”.

Although it was mostly girls who had been invited, among the twenty invitees there were five boys – two from school and three from the swimming club which was a fairly mixed group. The twins had giggled with each other wondering if the boys they invited would be pleased to get half-naked pictures of them and what they would think to seeing them completely nude at the party? Although they were at an age where sex did not really loom large in their minds and was really just an abstract thing they learned about at school, they were very well aware of the differences between boys and girls and that men and boys liked looking at naked women and girls. They knew that boobs supposedly made a girls’ body more interesting, they had seen proof from the way boys looked at the girls at the top of the school, but they both secretly hoped that their undeveloped yet feminine bodies may at least hold some interest for their male friends and wondered if any of the invited parent-helpers that their parents were arranging would be dads?

The celebrations on the Friday, their actual birthday, had been had been intimate, for family only. The Marshalls had debated between themselves whether they should tell their respective parents, the girls’ grandparents, what was going to happen or wait until afterwards but had decided that it was only fair to give them a chance to say goodbye. Plus it would save them from wasting money on presents that the girls would enjoy for less than a day. Wanting to give them the chance to process their feelings privately before having to see anyone, Mr and Mrs Marshall had sent emails from their joint account, explaining the situation and making special mention of the girls’ enthusiasm. Whatever their real feelings, at the Pizza Hut they all met at for the Birthday dinner, none of them expressed anything other than pride and excitement for their granddaughter’s big day. The biggest surprise of the day, however, was the announcement that, since the twins did not need birthday presents that year, the four of them had clubbed together to buy their parents an Ultra-HD camcorder to capture all the events of the day, since they would not be there to watch in person.

On the way home, beaming with happiness and excitement, the girls had asked to stop for a final milkshake from their favourite dessert cafe. This gave Mrs Marshall the perfect opportunity to mix in the crushed sleeping tablets she had brought with her from home, knowing that the girls would probably be too excited to sleep and how important it was that they were not too tired the next day. Although it had taken her longer than her husband to come around to the idea of eating their daughters, she was now totally on board and the girls seemed to be showing no signs of regret, badgering their parents to register them as meat from the day the party had been agreed. Eventually, with one week to go, they had conceded and Mr Marshall had filled in the necessary details on the government website. The girls had persuaded him to print out the confirmation screens for each of them and had proudly displayed them on their bedroom wall along with their swimming certificates and other awards from school.

By the time they got home, both girls were fast asleep in the back of the car. Taking one each, their parents had gently carried them inside, got them out of their clothes and into loose-fitting night-shirts so that their bodies would not bear any elastic marks the next day and tucked them into bed. It was still relatively early in the evening with plenty of daylight left so Mr Marshall decided to make a start on setting up for the party.

The spitting machines had arrived folded for ease of transport but it was not too difficult to follow the instructions and get them set up. Below the spit itself was a trough for the charcoal and, above that, a slot where what the manual described as a “gutting tray” could be slid in, should the cook decided to wait until the meat-girl was spitted and mounted before removing her inedible innards. Although it occurred to him that the girls had not discussed when they wanted this done, he decided that unless they specifically expressed any ideas to the contrary, he would wait until they were dead or at least unconscious and deal with it then. One thing they certainly had been adamant about was that they wanted to be live-spitted, not beheaded or killed in some other way before being cooked. Okay, so they did not look especially authentic to the theme but he and his wife had discussed it and decided it was far more sensible to hire professional equipment guaranteed to cook their daughters properly than to try to improvise something that may or may not end up working.

He positioned the two spit-devices on the patio then spread the sand around using a shovel, covering most of the patio and spilling onto the lawn. It would most likely be a nightmare to clean up and he didn’t like to think how much was going to end up in the pool but he wanted to make the day special for the girls in any way he could – cleaning up was a concern for another day. He held half a bag of sand back as he realised the fence posts needed to be dug in before he added the extra later.

Thankful for possibly the first time that their garden soil was mostly clay and not too rocky, Mr Marshall used a hand-trowel to dig two narrow pits, a little over a foot deep and maybe half as wide, about ten feet apart from each other. Hoping that it would work as he anticipated, he carefully lifted the first fence post which was not especially heavy but long and unwieldy and manoeuvred it, point first, into one of the holes, pushing it down hard so that the point would dig into the ground. Holding it steady with one hand, he filled in the sides of the hole with his other than, once he was sure it was secure, built the remaining clay up around to base to provide more stability. Tentatively, he stood and gave a test-push. The pole remained firmly in place. Satisfied, he repeated the process with the second pole, leaving two thick wooden stakes, around which he could just reach both hands, standing ten feet apart in front of the patio. He then took the rest of the sand and scattered it around the base of the poles and the space in between. Next it was time for the centre-piece!

This was the item he had called his friend at the prop-hire company about and he has made sure to have it delivered while the girls were at school. It had been covered with blankets for good measure while hidden in the garage, even ‘though he was fairly sure the girls never went in there, especially since there was no elephant in need of feeding or mucking out! He was grateful for the dolly that it had come with and the fact that it had specially designed slots to make lifting with said dolly a lot easier. He wheeled it out of the garage and set it in place between the two poles then stepped back to admire.

It was a stereotypical cannibal stew pot, very similar to the one the twins appeared to be being cooked in on the invitation. It was about five feet wide, made of some kind of fibreglass and came complete with a vividly-painted fibreglass fire beneath. Sat there on the sand, he had to admit it really did look the part! What made it particularly clever, however, was that despite how it looked from the front, it was really only two thirds of a stew pot with an open back so that people could walk in and out easily. There were even small platforms inside that could be used as seats. The idea was that the party guests to get in and have their photo taken making it look as if they too were on the menu. For the early part of the birthday girls would be in the photos too. He was sure the visiting children and their parents would get a kick out of it!

With all the main props and equipment in place, he spread the skeleton and skulls out on the sand in front of the pot and stakes as if they belonged to earlier “victims” of the vicious cannibal tribe. He decided that the various inflatables were best left until morning so went inside to see if his wife needed any help with preparing the various snacks, side-dishes and desserts that no ninth birthday party, even one with two delicious little girls on the menu, would be complete without!

“Good morning, sleepy-heads!” Mr Marshall gave Natasha’s shoulder a little shake to wake her up before doing the same for Hannah. It took the girls a moment to stir to wakefulness but, the moment they did, they both remembered exactly what day it was and what was to happen! They both sprang out of bed asking to see the garden and if everything was ready and how long it would be before their friends started arriving.

“Steady on!” Their dad chuckled, “Mum’s running you a bath first to get your muscles nice and relaxed then we’ll need to give you a good scrubbing under the shower to get you all clean and ready to eat.” At the mention of preparing them for cooking, both girls had grinned very broadly. “Of course we’ll need to give you a quick wash again in the garden before we oil you up and put you on the spits,” he reminded them to their great delight, “but it will be best if you’re basically clean already.”

Mr Marshall sat down on the end of Hannah’s bed, the closest to the door, and Hannah crawled onto his lap while Natasha leapt out of bed and peeled off her night-shirt like it was on fire and stood posing nude in front of the long mirror on the wardrobe door, clearly trying to imagine her cute young body cooked. Hannah held up her arms in a gesture her dad recognised from when she was smaller and he helped her off with her shirt so that she too was naked, but remained sitting on his lap.

“Are you looking forward to eating us, Daddy?” She asked, wide-eyed and sounding a little nervous.

“Well I’ll be sad to lose you of course,” he put his arm around her bare shoulders, noticing how warm and soft she felt, “but I’m sure you’re going to be absolutely delicious!” He ran his hand along her thigh and down her leg towards her foot, stretching her leg out straight so they could both look at it appraisingly. “Don’t you think you look tasty?” he grinned.

“Very!” Hannah giggled. “What do you think is going to be the tastiest bit?”

“Out butts!” Natasha answered before their dad had a chance to think. “Everyone knows that!” She wiggled her cute bubble-butt in their direction. Mr Marshall leant forward and gave it a playful smack.

“Yes, you’re probably right!” He chuckled, “Come on, your bath should be ready now. Lets go and get you all clean and ready for cooking!”


The fun continues. Great work!


Thanks :-D


A story set in an amusement park might be interesting


Hmm what did you have in mind? Thrilling rides that carry a little more danger than conventional ones? Ghost-trains with real axe-murderers in, that sort of thing?


I wish i could attend this party and get a taste!


They do sound delicious, don't they?


Not sure


I just saw you mention Disney Land and thought what would it be like in this world you have created


This will make you laugh - we went during the mid-90s and while we were there we had a sort of tour around and the guide gleefully pointed out that the hotdog bar was directly opposite the Lost Children area and explained that any lost children not claimed by the end of the day are turned into the next day's hotdogs :-P


That might make for a good story


Yeah! lol. At a recent fair I went to I couldn't help noticing the Lost Children tent was right next to a stall selling Chinese food - I couldn't help wondering :-P


(in reference to the Disney Channel show Recess)


I love how enthusiastic the girls are!


Yeah that's what I love about this story too! They see being cooked as a treat for them - the fact that their parents and friends get a delicious meal out of it is pure coincidence!


Just a short update - another new story is starting to form in my head and requires my attention, dammit! :-P

Pt 4

It was probably the fastest the girls had ever got into the bath, since they had nothing to take off, and almost immediately, they were asking to get out for their scrub-down, figuring that the sooner they were clean, the sooner they would be able to check out the cooking apparatus that they knew was waiting for them outside! Their mum and dad insisted they stay in a little longer, however, to let the top water do its work and relax their young muscles.

“Why don’t you go get you new camera, Daddy?” Natasha suggested, realising that if they had to wait in the admittedly very nice, deep, warm bath then they could at least have a little fun while they did so.

“Good idea!” Mrs Marshall agreed, remembering the instructions that had come with the collective gift from both her parents and her in-laws, “They did say they wanted to see everything from today, after all!” Chuckling, her husband agreed and went off to retrieve his new toy while she knelt down beside the bath and chatted to the girls, finding out what they were most excited for about the day and which bits of their cute young bodies they expected different friends would want to eat. There was much giggling and teasing which Mr Marshall found quite heart-warming as he came back into the quite steamy bathroom, armed with the new camera which now sported a fully-charged battery and a fresh SD card.

He had played with it a little before going to bed the night before, mostly filming a spider that happened to be crawling on the living-room curtains at the time, just to get the hang of it but now he was ready to go! Although he was not normally a fan of them, he thought it would be a good idea to turn the date and time stamp on so that the grandparents watching the video later would be able to get a sense of how the day had progressed!

“Hey girls!” he waved from behind the already-filming camera, “How’s Mum doing getting our two explorers ready for their adventure? Say hi to everyone, girls!” He walked over to the bath and filmed his daughters from above. After all, they would soon be tied completely nude to posts in the back garden in front of their friends, their friends’ parents and their friends’ parents’ cameras so what was the point of trying to preserve their modesty in a home video? The two cheeky little future-piglets grinned and waved up at the camera. Mr Marshall then took a few steps back and sat on the closed toilet.

“So,” he said to the three most important women in his life, “I hear these explorers need a good scrubbing before they go off into the jungle, just in case they happen to get caught by one of those cannibal tribes I’ve been hearing about. Wouldn’t want them getting a tummy-ache if they eat you, right?”

“Silly Daddy!” Hannah giggled, sticking out her tongue, “Cannibals aren’t real! Nobody eats other people. That would be stupid!”

“Yeah!” Natasha agreed. “We’re just going to go exploring in the jungle and find a nice lake to swim in! A small, pool-shaped lake with a metal ladder at one end!” She added cheekily. “There’s no way anything bad is going to happen to us out there!”

“Well, if you say so!” Mr Marshall laughed, “But I still think you need to get cleaned properly before you head out on your adventure!” Obligingly and still giggling their heads off, the twins stood up in the bath tub and their mum reached over and pulled out the plug. She then took the shower attachment down and adjusted the controls until the water felt like a reasonable temperature on her hand.

“Hey, Mr Spielberg,” Mrs Marshall looked over her shoulder and teased her husband. “Are you going to leave everything to me today or are you going to put that camera town for a few minutes and come help me?” He had zoomed in on her face as she spoke but now pulled back out, getting a good shot of the two naked, giggling little girls standing in the bath, their bodies gleaming with the bath water looking almost as if they were already oiled up and ready for the spit!

“Well, duty calls!” He turned the camera around and spoke into the lens. “See you later!” He pressed the button to end the recording and went over to help his wife, taking a bar of carefully selected, unscented soap and lathering it up in his hands before picking Natasha, who was stood on the left and therefore closest to him, to give a thorough soaping, something he had not been called upon to do since the twins were around three.

Like most fathers, Mr Marshall had never viewed his daughters in a sexual way, however teasing or provocative some of their behaviour could be interpreted as being. Yet running his slippery, soapy hands all over Natasha’s wet body was starting to arouse him like he had never expected. Perhaps it was the way her still-prepubescent body was starting to acquire distinctly feminine curves? Perhaps it was the intimacy of their contact or maybe it was the knowledge that he was essentially preparing the happy little girl to be cooked and eaten, he was not sure, but what he could not deny was the feeling of excitement as his blood rushed to occupy a certain part of his anatomy.

“Um, having a good time?” Mrs Marshall raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly down at the unmistakable bulge in her husband’s trousers as she turned Hannah around and began to soap up her legs and backside. Mr Marshall blushed furiously, not sure if he was more embarrassed at his arousal or at being caught out. “Oh don’t worry!” His wife laughed. “I don’t know what it is but it’s working on me too! I’m just glad I’m wearing a bra or I’d have had somebody’s eye out by now!”

“What are you talking about?” Hannah asked, looking over her shoulder at her mum. Her dad seemed to be fighting as especially stubborn dirty patch on Natasha’s bottom for the amount of attention he was giving it!

“Grown up stuff” Mrs Marshall stuck out her tongue. “Hey,” she turned and winked conspiratorially at her husband, “it’s pretty difficult to get you properly clean if we have to lean over the side of the bath. How about we get in with you then it will be much easier!”

“Sure!” Natasha giggled, looking admiringly at her dad while both she and her twin sister giggled. “But you have to get undressed too!”

“Of course!” Mrs Marshall grinned. “Wouldn’t want to get our clothes all soapy, would we?” The girl’s grinned and she pulled her husband close and started to unbutton his shirt. “Nothing bigger than a finger,” she whispered in his ear, “don’t want to tear up the meat now, do we?”


Bah! Tried to start the new one, had two goes at the first page and had to delete both. Just can't quite get a handle on the setting… Maybe I need to call it a day writing-wise (for today) and come back to it fresh another day.


Wow, so cute. Can't wait to see what the big, bad 'jungle cannibals' gonna do with the little explorers.

Such role play really sounds like something little girls would do.


I remember an author years ago who did like a travelling cannibal carnival. With games and food boots and such. Prizes were made from the stuff no one wanted to eat.


Thanks! I'm going to have lots of fun writing it, I know!

That sounds like fun! :-D


You already wrote one, " Trick or Treat "


I guess that could be seen as being along similar lines, yeah! Still want to write about the after-party some day but I just have odd ideas of "set pieces", not a way to join it all up!


Pt 5

The family fun-time in the bath was exactly what everyone had needed! Under their mother’s instruction, the twins had both proved themselves remarkably adept at blow-jobs and their dad had very much enjoyed putting his fingers to good use, showing the girls just how much pleasure their cute young bodies could generate and teasing them about how much fun the spits were going to be, passing through the same hole! Once the soap was rinsed off, the four had engaged in something of a round-robin where each parent took it in turns pleasuring and being pleasured by one of the girls before swapping, after which the husband and wife had a little fun together while the girls practised their tongue and finger skills on each other before the four of them ended up in a what would have looked to anyone walking into the room as a writhing mass of slippery wet flesh in the fortunately large bath tub.

Once everyone was satisfied and the tension released, Mr and Mrs Marshall realised it would now be necessary to wash the girls all over again! They got this done quickly this time, in a more business-like manner, much the same as when they had bathed them as toddlers.

“You did turn the camera off, right?” Mrs Marshall asked her husband as they each used a warm, fresh towel to dry a giggling twin.

“Yeah, don’t worry!” Mr Marshall laughed, concluding that Natasha was now dry and giving her a playful pat on the bottom to signify the end of the task. “I know they said they wanted to see everything that goes on today but I think I’d rather keep some things between us!” Hannah was now dry too and the two naked newly-nine year olds held hands and bounced excitedly in a circle.

“Come on!” Mrs Marshall chuckled, “We’d better get them ready before they make themselves all sweaty again! What do you think, girls?” They both stopped their wild dancing and turned to grin at her. “Are you ready to see what Dad set up for you? Or have you changed your mind and want to get dressed and go to Pizza Hut again?” By way of reply, both girls stuck out their tongues and blew raspberries at her.

“I think that’s your answer!” Mr Marshall chuckled. “Come on girls, let’s go see! I hope you like it! Oh, one thing,” a thought occurred to him, “don’t forget to grab your explorer hats! I think they’re in the kitchen.” The twins ran off down the stairs ahead of their parents, their perky round bottoms wiggling appealingly as they descended. Before waking them up, Mr Marshall had checked that all the curtains downstairs, including across the French Windows, were closed so the girls would not get a sneak preview before the big unveiling.

To say that the girls were waiting patiently by the patio doors when their parents joined them, looking extra cute clad in nothing but their explorer hats out from under which their chestnut curls tumbled, would be something of an overstatement as they were both bouncing on the spot looking like they might very well burst from excitement but at least they were not trying to pekk!

“Ready, girls?” Mr Marshall grinned, reaching behind the curtain to find the sliding door handle while his wife readied herself with the pull chord, “Ta-dah!” The girls gasped as the curtain was pulled back and the glass door opened at the same time. They dashed out onto the sand which was warm under their bare feet and looked at everything their loving father had prepared for them.

“So?” Mr Marshall asked, slightly nervously. “Is it what you hoped for? Do you like it?”

“Oh Daddy!” Both girls flung themselves on his and practically drowned him in hugs. “It’s even better! We love it! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Well that’s a relief!” He grinned, kissing them both on the forehead and patting their cute little behinds again. “Come on, I’ll show you around!”


Perhaps after the party the parents decide to have more kids in the hopes that some will want to be cooked eaten like their first pair of twins

Maybe even have the mother discover that she is pregnant from the sex the parents had towards the beginning of this story


Hmm I hadn't thought of that but it's an intriguing thought! I'm actually writing the next chapter of this story right now although it's not flowing as well as I'd have liked today.


Pt 6

“Can we take some photos with the pot?” Hannah asked, “Before the others arrive?”

“Of course!” Mr Marshall grinned. He showed them the seats inside where they could sit to look as if they were cooking and they got comfy while he popped inside for his camera. Once the guests started to arrive, he would start filming again but for now he just wanted snaps for the family album, or the digital equivalent at least.

“Do we look like the invitation?” Natasha asked with a giggle as their dad squatted down to take the picture.

“Yup, pretty much!” he chuckled, “Apart from the hats!”

Once they had taken the seated photo the girls stood up, leaning over the side of the cauldron for some more pictures. Then they got out and stood in front of the pot as if waiting to be put in to cook then turned and posed cheekily with their perky round bottoms stuck out towards the camera like an old-fashioned saucy postcard.

“Some great shots there!” Mr Marshall grinned, standing up and slipping the camera into his pocket. “But your friends are going to start arriving soon so I think we need to get you in position!”

“What do we have to do?” asked Natasha, “You’re not going to start cooking us right away, are you? We wanted to say hi to our friends and enjoy some of the party first.”

“Oh of course.” Their dad smiled. “See those posts? I was figuring I’d tie you to them like you were prisoners of the tribe. That way, all your guests will get to have a good look at your cute little bodies, which I’m pretty sure is what you want anyway?” The girls giggled, confirming his suspicions. “And it will add to the atmosphere. You up for that?” The twins nodded enthusiastically and ran straight to the posts – Hannah on the left and Natasha on the right.

“Ready, Daddy!” Natasha called, pressing her bottom and shoulders against the pole with her hands behind her back on the other side. “Come tie us up!”

“Make sure you do it nice and tight!” Hannah added, giggling, “You wouldn’t want your dinner to get away, would you?”

“Okay, okay!” Mr Marshall laughed. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll go get the rope!”

“Be quick!” Natasha instructed, “Don’t want our guests going hungry, do we?”

Still chuckling at his daughters’ enthusiasm, Mr Marshall went inside and fished in the bottom drawer of his computer desk for the carrier bag where he’d stashed the rope. Finding it, he returned to the patio and took out the first piece. He went to Natasha first, wrapping it loosely a couple of times around her wrists and tying a reasonably tight bow. He knew that she could easily wriggle out if she wanted to but the binding was only symbolic anyway, as much a costume piece as the explorers hats.

“No, Daddy!” she whined. “Do it really tight!”

“But I don’t want to hurt you?” Mr Marshall replied cautiously. “It’s not like you’re actually going to try to get away, are you?”

“Well no but I want it to feel as real as possible!” Natasha informed him, “The cooking’s going to be real after all and I bet that’s going to hurt more than any rope, however tight it is!”

“Good point!” her dad chuckled. “I suppose if that’s what you really want?” He untied the rope and wrapped it again, far more tightly. With his daughter’s encouragement he pulled the soft rope so tight that it started to bite into the flesh of her wrists. “Better?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Natasha turned and grinned at him. “Do my feet now!”

“Really?” He asked, puzzled, “I wasn’t planning to. I thought it would be more comfortable if you just stood there?”

“No!” the little girl insisted. “Do it properly!”

“Well, okay!” Mr Marshall laughed, thinking how fortunate it was that the ropes had come in a pack of six so he had more than he’d expected to need. He knelt down and tied his daughter’s ankles to the pole as firmly as he had tied her ankles. “Will that do?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Don’t forget my tummy!” Natasha reminded him. Her dad didn’t bother to answer this time and simply did as she asked. The rope only went twice around her midriff rather than the six or seven times it had looked around her wrists but it seemed to satisfy her. Natasha was now well and truly tied to the pole with no chance of escape, as a real captured explorer might be.

“Do me now!” Hannah called excitedly. “Same as ‘Tasha!” Knowing that there was no point in questioning her, Mr Marshall repeated the process using the three ropes left in the bag to tie Hannah, tightly and uncomfortably, to her pole.

“We definitely need to capture this moment!” Mrs Marshall laughed, coming to join the rest of the family in the garden, bringing with her the video camera she had retrieved from the bathroom. “I should probably film from now on.” She suggested to her husband. “You’re going to be busy with the cooking and suchlike.” He agreed and she pressed the button to start recording.

“So, girls,” she addressed them from behind the camera as her husband had done, “it looks like you got captured after all! Can’t say you weren’t warned!”

“Yup!” Natasha giggled, “Those mean cannibals caught us and it looks like they’re going to be having us for dinner!”

“Well I guess that’s what happens when cannibals catch you!” Mrs Marshall laughed. “Well I hope you’re going to be tasty! Where are the cannibals by the way? I want to be careful if they’re around here somewhere!”

“They’ll be back later.” Hannah told her, playing along and thinking of her friends who would soon be arriving. “But don’t worry, I think they’ve got enough food with us!”

“Well there’s a relief!” chuckled Mrs Marshall, zooming in on each daughter in turn and filming them from her to toe then up again. “I guess it will be interesting to document the tribe and their ways when they get back, think that’s a good idea?” Both girls giggled and nodded very enthusiastically. “Great! That’s settled then!” she grinned. “Oh look!” She spun the camera around to point at the garden gate where the first guests were arriving, the girls’ school-friend Lucy and her mum who had agreed to come along and help out. “Here they come now!”


Perhaps in the next part you can have the younger guests poke and prod them trying to figure out what piece they want but secretly just wanting to explore their friends bodies with some of the boys going straight for their girl hoods


Perhaps they could even start researching how to they make their next children even tastier and how to improve the likelihood of having two or more children per-birth


I think the studying of the meat is quite likely ;-) And I suspect the party might be such a success that it starts a trend among their friendship group ;-)


Maybe the neighbourhood former-parents can form a sort of club to raise tasty meat-girls for neighbourhood parties :)


Ohhhh…. You have sweet ideas…




Pt 7

After a brief greeting and birthday wish to the girls, Lucy’s mum went off to find Mrs Marshall and ask what should could do to help. Lucy herself, on the other hand, was fascinated to find her friends bound and naked.

“So, is this for real?” she asked, as she had when given the invitation, “Like, really for real?” The young party guest was dressed in a light summer dress over her bikini so she wouldn’t have to bother with changing if she went in the Marshall’s pool.

“Those aren’t just for show, you know!” Hannah grinned, indicating the spits with a tilt of her head since her arms were very tightly bound and unavailable.

“Wow,” Lucy let out a deep breath in a mixture of shock and admiration, “So you’re really going to be cooked? We’re going to be eating you?” The twins has quite a reputation as pranksters and Lucy was sure that she was not the only one to be sceptical when told about the menu for the party. But yet, here they were, naked and tied to posts either side of an obviously fake cooking pot but with two very real spits behind them!

Before Lucy could ask any more questions, more guests began to arrive. Most were dressed in swimsuits with token pieces of clothing over the top – dresses like Lucy’s or long t-shirts and the occasional pair of shorts but Megan and her brother Barney had gone all-out on the theme as they often did! The pair looked striking enough that they even managed to pull focus from the nude birthday girls for a moment when they turned up, along with both parents who, like Lucy’s mum, had agreed to help out.

Both were dressed exactly how a child of their age might imagine a savage, jungle cannibal to dress. Both had smeared their naked bodies with chalky-white paint over which they, or their parents, had painted red and yellow war-paint-like markings, including across their eyes. Over the paint they both wore grass-skirts far in a more realistic and muted colour than the cheap, multi-coloured raffia ones Mr Marshall had ordered, necklaces made from plastic approximations of severed fingers, ears, noses and bones and thick woven bands around their foreheads and wrists. The both carried spears that their dad had stayed up all night creating.

“Wow!” Natasha gasped when she saw her friends. “You two look great!”

“Not so bad yourself!” Megan chuckled. “I’m sure Barney will tell you the same once he remembers how to close his mouth!” All the girls looked in amusement at Barney who blushed deeply at being called out on the way he was gawping at the naked meat-girls. “Do they really look so different from me?” athletic, objectively beautiful Megan asked. “We have baths together all the time, and I’m not exactly over-dressed now!”

“Well yeah but…” Barney fumbled for the words to justify himself. “You’re my sister!” he blurted in the end, a little weakly.

“Well it’s good to know you’re pleased to see us!” Hannah giggled, looking pointedly downwards to where their friend’s little friend had started to poke its head through the grass-skirt! Instinctively, Barney covered himself with his hands, regretting his choice not sacrifice a little authenticity and wear underwear.

“Please don’t worry!” Natasha told him, soothingly. He was their friend and invited guest after all. “It’s a compliment, and nice to know you think we’re pretty!” Her smile helped Barney relax a little. He knew that if he didn’t think too much about the erection, it would go away on its own pretty soon. “Hey,” the naked girl suggested, “since you two are seriously dressed for the part, why don’t you stand by the pot and do some photos?”

“Great idea!” Lucy grinned, “You can pretend you’re cooking me!”

“That’s the spirit!” Hannah cheered her friends on as the two fierce-looking cannibals took their place either side of the pot, slightly in front so they would not block the twins in the photos, and Lucy shed her dress to pose, bikini-clad, in the open-backed pot.

“Ha! This is great!” Mr Marshall grinned, taking the picture.

“Me next!” a perky little blonde named Anne bounced eagerly forward to take Lucy’s place in the pot. She was dressed in a pink one-piece swimsuit with a mystical-looking unicorn motif. Unlike Lucy, who has stood in the pot, Anne sat down and peeped over the side.

“Hey Anne, honey?” her mum, another helper, called out. “Since we can only see your shoulders anyway, why don’t you drop the straps? Make it look like you’re naked?” Anne giggled at this suggestion but did as she was told, going further in fact and pulling the swimsuit down to her waist.

“Now I wanna stand up!” the topless blonde giggled, standing with her hands on the edge of the pot and a broad grin on her face, proudly displaying her flat chest and pink nipples to her fellow party guests.

“Everyone okay with me taking photos?” Mr Marshall asked a little nervously of the other parents. “I’ll email them to you of course.” All the parents, including those who would be staying and those who were simply there dropping off their own children assured him it would not be a problem. In fact, many of them had their own cameras and phones out taking pictures of both their own children and others. “Okay, great!” he chuckled as Anne, still grinning, slowing pulled the top half of her bathing suit back on. “Who’s next?”

“Me!” red-haired, freckle-faced and bikini-clad Willow bounced forward eagerly. “Can I do one outside the pot first, like they’re making me climb into it?”

“Sure!” Mr Marshall grinned, impressed at her creativity. The costumed siblings lowered their spears, pointing them at Willow’s shapely backside as she stood facing the pot and looking over her shoulder, a hand to her mouth and a look of exaggerated horror on her face.

“Oh wait!” She said once the photo had been taken. “That’s not very realistic! Here,” she turned to Anne, “hold this!” Then, with neither warning nor ceremony, she pulled off the lime-green bikini and threw it to her surprised friend before assuming the pose again, every bit as naked as the real meat-girls! If Anne’s topless display had caught others’ attention then Willow’s total nudity gained ten times more. She adopted five or six different poses, never caring what might be on show, both inside and outside the pot before finally retrieving her bikini and pulling on the bottoms, deciding not to bother with the top.

This seemed to set something of a trend and soon every girl and boy who posed with the pot did so entirely nude. Even Lucy and Anne took a second turn, not wanting to be the only ones with any clothes on in their souvenir photos. Even those party guests who might otherwise have been too shy to bare all in front of their friends happily stripped off, not wanting to be seen as party-poopers. Whether it was the nakedness of the hosts, the relaxed atmosphere, the desire to show off or simply the joy of being naked outside on a warm summer’s day, at least half the party guests did not bother putting back on even as much as Willow had and soon the pool was filled with happy, naked and near-naked children laughing, splashing each other and generally having the time of their lives. The twins watched happily as their friends enjoyed their pool, almost wishing they could join them but not wanting to “break character” to do so. They had Megan and Barney to chat to after all since neither of them could go in the pool without destroying the hard work they had put into their costumes.

A short time later, once all the guests had arrived and been photographed, Mrs Marshall came out to remind her husband that it was time to start the cooking!


For now the little cannibals might be a little bit uncivilized, but more cute than fierce.
But dinner is comind nearer…. ;)

Btw. why not use real native cannibals in a story? Some girls could help out in a "feed the world" program and are sent to a native cannibal tribe. Here they have some pleasent days until they are needed, where they play with the native children, who see them as playmates as well as as food. The older children could be fucktoys for the whole tribe….

Or there is some sort of student exchange with a south see nation, based on a misunderstanding. Some native cutie gets to europe as a foreign exchange student, expecting to be eaten there, finding to her disappointment, that this wasn't planned. And a european exchange student is finding herself in the south seas confronted with people who'd love to eat her. How will she react? Such a story could even be before the Sidney's era.


Funny you should say that… one idea I have for another story is a group of Brownies and Girlscouts doing a fundraiser where ten or so of them are cooked to raise money to send the rest of the group to a famine-affected area so they can be eaten by the locals :-)


Love the idea of the student expecting to be eaten and finding her host family are not into that! I wonder how she would persuade them? ;-)


I also have an idea for a kind of reality TV show where British or American girls are visited by girls from a country where cannibalism is traditional. In the first epsiode, the visiting girls cook a couple of their number to show the Brit girls how it's done, in subsequent episodes the British girls learn to cook other girls - first the visiting ones then their own. In the final episode they visit the country/island the cannibal visitors were from and cook a feast for them there, consisting of most of their team!


You know, I'm curious about something. In most dolcett-related universes, one of the first things the authors do is to stablish the underlying reason for a gross imbalance in the male:female ratio that justifies gynophagia becoming socially acceptable. The rate of girl consumption in the Sidney universe is going through the roof lately, and also most of the girls are cooked before they leave descendants. Are you going to address the problem of too little females to sustain the population in any of your stories, or are you going to leave it as is? There are many approaches to this issue that would make for good writing material.


Very good, I've looking forward to an update of this one!

While reading it just before I went to work today, I was struck by inspiration! Not knowing if you've already laid out the story or flesh it out(no pun intended)as you go every author is different after all, I came up with a scenario which could be used as either the ending\alternate ending and outline for a sequel. I'll try to keep this relatively brief, unlike the last one lol!

After the twins have received their special birthday and their friends have had the "tastiest meal ever!" and are now playing party "themed" games while enjoying the and the sun on they're cute little bodies the twins' friend Lucy takes notice of something. After watching Mr. Marshall clean the spits, she asks him she could try it out saying she kinda wants to know what it feels like inside but not completely spitted. Though Mr. Marshall is reluctant at first saying the spit is sharp and she might get hurt Lucy counters with the promise to be perfectly still and that he can take a lot more pictures to complete her photo session! Admitting defeat, Mr. Marshall agrees so long as Lucy's Mom says its OK. Lucy runs over to ask her Mom for permission who agrees with little convincing while Mrs. Marshall who was standing next to her catches just a glint of hunger in the other woman's eye. All the other girls catch wind of whats about to happen and ask to try it out as well. At the suggestion of Megan and Barney's(both still in the cannibal make up)parents their kids will take turns posing as the cannibal spitting the girls while an adult will hold the spit steady just outside the camera's view.

Starting with Lucy each girl in turn gets up on a table and while on hands and knees then on their backs the spit is carefully inserted into their pussies and anuses so as to experience both styles. Last up is Megan having cleaned off the paint off her body gets on the table looking back at her brother(who if it weren't for the face paint would be red as a beet from the up close view of his sister's ass and pussy)saying maybe one you'll have this on your plate while wiggling her perky butt at him!

After the photo session is done Lucy asks Mr. Marshall if the fire pits were still hot, who responds asking why she wants to know though having a pretty good idea, the girl says she wants to be spitted and cooked alive like her friends! Megan immediately pipes up that she wants be cooked on the other spit, however this quickly results in all the other girls crying out no fair they want to be cooked as well. Mrs. Marshall and Lucy's Mom swiftly stop the argument and order the girls to line up shoulder to shoulder then asks them who wants to be spitted either through your pussy or ass then slowly roasted alive over hot coals? Rather unsurprisingly(seeing as you were kind of vague on the boy\girl ratio on the guest list I'm just going to make a guess)all twenty of them raises they're hands. The parents tell the kids to go play while they have a quick conference. Calling the girls back over, Mr. Marshall tells them the bad news that there's not enough fuel left to cook another girl let alone two, seeing the obvious disappointment on their faces he spring the good news. After checking with the other parents who weren't there, they've decided to hold a BIG block party for the neighborhood on the Summer Solstice since its the longest day the year with the most daylight and everyone of them will spitted and cooked alive, additionally they can each invite a couple of friends or family who live outside the neighborhood to come and eat them! As an added bonus, any girl at the party in the 8-11 age range could volunteer to be roasted so long as their parents agreed. The girls were overjoyed at the news and Lucy asked how many would cooked to start. Her replying they'll start with out five them at first, the remaining girls will responsible for turning their friends spits by hand and basting their meat once the first group is done they'll ask for at least two volunteers the other spots to filled by the remaining girls then the process will be repeated until all of them were spitted and roasted to a golden brown. Anne then asks how long till the Summer Solstice?, her Mom replying it's in one week. This gets them all very excited, Lucy and Megan hugging their naked little bodies together jumping up and down chanting "In week were gonna be juicy Meat"!

I think this is longer then I said it be but when inspiration hits…. never the less feel free to use this however you like. If I can figure out how to make a file of the other suggestion I made, I plan to clean it up and fill it out if only for my own personal library.;-)


I've pondered it a few times but I've yet to see an explanation that doesn't "devalue" the girls in some way and therefore lessens their "sacrifice". I like a world where the default is still that most girls expect to grow up and live long, successful and happy lives so giving that up to provide a delicious meal for someone means something. In the typical Dolcett-type stories where girls tend to be born in litters of five or six and age four times the speed of boys, it's assumed that most girls will get eaten sooner or later and only a very few will make it to adulthood. While I've enjoyed those stories, the scenario doesn't really "do it" for me.

I did expand the age-range to allow for more meat lol. I also try to hint in some stories (such as this one) that it's really not that common. Otherwise I just ignore the fact that a Sidney's would depopulate a small town within a month lol.

In my fantasy world, there's no shortage of meat-girls in the same way that live-cooking works and boobs are tasty meat! lol.

Oh wow I love your ideas! Again it feels like a story in its own right so I'm happy for it to stand as a sequel to this - I will try to make the ending of mine lead into it :-D
I ended up pretty non-specific as I didn't want to have to think up names for everyone at the party but in my head there's four or five boys to fifteen or so girls :)


Oh and that last line with Lucy and Megan is TOO CUTE!!!


Works for me. I was just curious if you were going to handwave it away or you had an underlying explanation in your head the whole time.


My original idea was that is was not super-common but now I just tend to think most of the parents are young enough to have more kids if they want! lol


To address the population imbalance you could have there be a popular over the country drug that when taken increases the likelihood of a pregnancy resulting in a daughter and another drug that has a side affect of causing multi births (that perhaps Mrs. Mashall helped test resulting in their twin daughter) and the second drug went to market for it's side effect rather than it's original intended purpose like Viagra


See that's the problem I was describing - as soon as you have a situation where there are "too many" girls it lessons the sacrifice of those who volunteer to get eaten :-/

I think I'll just leave it as one of those anomalies like how in some stories a 10yo girl is the right amount of food for 2-4 people and other times they can feed a party of 30-50! Hehe


Perhaps you can write a story where a single mother cooks up her daughter's for her wedding to her new husband so she can have a fresh start with him


I like that idea! :-D Sorry I'm a bit slow at the moment but I'll have some more of this story to post by the end of the day. I hope to finish it but I may not get that far.


Hopefully the final part will come tomorrow :-)

Pt 8

The announcement was made that the big show of the afternoon was about to begin and the children emerged from the pool. Some used towels to pat themselves down but most contented themselves with letting the warm afternoon sun take care of that, the girls with longer and thicker hair pausing only to twist it, wringing out most of the water. While Mrs Marshall began filming once more, knowing that what was about to happen was definitely something the twins’ grandparents would want to see, Mr Marshall handed out the grass-skirts and lays to those who wanted them, explaining that it would help them “look the part”.

“Wow!” Megan muttered to Barney as they watched their mostly-naked friends donning the token costumes. “When we decided to come like this, I didn’t think we’d be the most modestly dressed!” Barney could not help but agree – their all-over body paint and thicker grass-skirts meant they were actually far more covered than most of the other party-guests, only a very small number of whom wore anything at all beyond the “cannibal” accessories. Even among those who had put their bikini bottoms on, none of the girls wore any kind of top! It was something of a relief to Barney to notice that he did not seem to be the only boy there who was finding the view rather exciting!

Once all the children were out of the pool and ready to watch, one of the other dads helped Mr Marshall carry a wooden table in front of the pot, sturdy enough for the girls to kneel on for their spitting. Lucy’s mum, who had been helping out in the kitchen, carried out a deep, fairly wide oval plastic tub – the baby-bath the Marshalls had bought when the twins were tiny. It had been in the garage for many years, filled with bags of compost and packets of bulbs but, when they realised they were going to need a large bowl for the party, it has struck them both as the perfect solution. It seemed fitting, somehow, to be using something the girls had been washed in on the first day of their lives on their last day too.

Carefully, she set it down on the ground, taking care not to spill any of the viscous, reddish-brown liquid which sloshed around inside. The guests all peered eagerly to work out what was in the tub. At first some of them exclaimed that it was blood and began to speculate who it had come from and what it was for but others pointed out that it had an obvious tangy, sweet smell that blood does not have. Chuckling, Mr Marshall explained that it was a special barbecue marinade, made from a recipe passed down from his grandfather who had learned it from his own dad as a young man. The girls would, he told the hungry party guests, be basted with the sauce several times while they cooked but that it would help them be even tastier if they were coated before going on the spit. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed that both his daughters were grinning excitedly.

“Perhaps you two should do the honours?” He suggested, handing knives to Megan and Barney. “You’ll need to cut our prisoners off the posts and bring them out front here so we can all watch them prepared for the spit! Here,” he took their spears, “I’ll hold these for now. Try not to cut the meat when you cut the ropes,” he cautioned, “don’t want blood getting mixed in the marinade!” Giggling, the two young savages went behind the twins’ poles, Barney to Natasha and Megan to Hannah, and cut first the ropes that bound their ankles then those around their wrists. Although they had begged to be tied up securely for authenticity’s sake and had not asked to be released, despite knowing that they could have at any time, neither meat-girl could help giving an audible sigh of relief, shaking out their hands and feet to get the blood-flow and feeling back into them.

Keeping in character, the two cannibal children grabbed their prisoners by the hair one hand and pressed the knives into their backs with the others as they led them, still giggling, to the area in front of the cooking pot where their father was waiting for them beside the tub of family-recipe marinade.

“Excellent job!” Mr Marshall exclaimed as he looked at his two little little girls, grinning from ear to ear and wearing nothing but the explorer hats he had ordered for them. “Now I’m very sorry about this, girls,” he joked, “but you were warned about what might happen if you went wandering around the jungle looking so delicious! Now you’re going to be dinner!”

“Aww shucks!” Hannah sighed, playing along, “But what can you do, eh?”

“I know, right?” Natasha agreed. “Sucks to be us, I guess! At least these hungry cannibals are going to get a good dinner!”

“Now we need you to get coated in this sauce,” Mr Marshall explained as he handed the spears back to the cannibal siblings who levelled them at the twins, threateningly, “but we don’t want to get sand in it so I’ll need you to come stand close and I’ll help you in, one foot at a time, okay?” He took a pack of unscented wipes from his pocket and pulled the first one out. Prompted by the tip of a spear being poked into her perky round bubble-butt, Natasha was the first to come forward. She put a hand on her dad’s shoulder to steady herself and raised her left foot. It tickled as he wiped the sand off, leaving her foot as clean as the rest of her. Although he had said in the morning that the girls would need to be washed again before cooking but it had occurred to him that the saltiness of the slight layer of sweat they were sure to acquire while on the poles would combine well with the sweetness of the marinade. A few seconds later, Natasha had two feet in the gloop and Hannah was being prodded towards it by a rather over-enthusiastic cannibal.

“Now girls,” explained Mr Marshall with a broad grin, “we need to get every inch of you covered, apart from your heads, and the easiest way would be for you to coat each other so please, go ahead!” This was a nice surprise for the twins who had not asked that many questions or even thought too much about the preparation – their entire focus had been on the idea of the spits sliding into their tight, eager little pussies and pushing all the way through.

At first they both bent down, much to the delight of those watching, and filled their hands with the thick, sticky liquid and began smearing it on each other’s chests, then Hannah turned her back on Natasha who knelt down and gave her sister’s delicious buttocks a nice thick coating before telling her to turn around so that she could cover her yummy, meaty vulva. Once she was done, Hannah was quick to return the favour.

Mr Marshall noticed that once again, Barney seemed to be very much enjoying the view and a quick glance at the few other boys revealed the same number of parted grass-skirts. Not that he could blame them as his own erection was straining against the inside of his underpants and he was very pleased that he had not opted to dress like the children. He couldn’t help but wonder how many of his fellow dad’s who had stayed to help out with the party were having a similar issue. He knew, of course, that there were men and the occasional woman who’s sexual preference was for preteen girls like his daughters and their friends but he had never counted himself among them. Something about this scene, however, was driving him crazy, much like his experience in the bath that morning! Perhaps it was the idea of the little girls being so willingly prepared to cook that he was finding so hot? One thing was for certain – Mr Marshall would be keeping a copy of this part of the video for his own entertainment and wouldn’t be surprised to be discretely asked for additional copies in the next few days!

All too soon, however, the meat-girls were both covered and ready for their big moment! Mr Marshall had been going to ask them who was going first but the cannibal sibling seemed to have already made the choice! Using their rather too pointy-tipped spears, the prodded a giggling and mock-protesting Natasha out of the tub and onto the table which she managed to clamber up onto and posed on all fours, ready for the spit. With another of his wipes, Mr Marshall cleaned the newly-acquired sand off the soles of her feet and quickly re-applied more of the marinade.

“You know, if we’re going to stick the spit in there, you’re going to have to keep your butt still!” he teased his daughter who was wiggling her bottom provocatively from side to side, much to the amusement of the watching party guests.

“Ah but you’re not sticking it in my butt, are you?” Natasha replied cheekily.

“Good point!” her dad laughed, “But you still need to keep still!”

“Fine!” She pretended to pout, folding her arms and resting her chin on her folded arms so that her hind-quarters stuck up in the air, providing a neat angle for the spit to be pushed through. “So?” the cheeky, excited meat-girl teased, “Are we doing this or not?”


Pt 9

“Okay, okay!” Mr Marshall laughed. “You’re an impatient piggy, aren’t you? Don’t forget to keep an eye on this one too!” he warned the cannibal siblings, pointing indicating Hannah with a jerk of his thumb. “Wouldn’t want her trying to run away while everyone’s watching the spitting, would we?”

“Well darn in!” Hannah snapped her fingers in annoyance, or tried to at least as the sticky barbecue marinade made such an action rather tricky. “I was going to make a run for it and live in the trees like an especially sticky monkey but oh well. I’d have probably got eaten by a wolf or a lion or something pretty soon anyway!”

“Be quiet, meat! Or I’ll cut out your tongue and eat that first!” Barney levelled his spear at Hannah, prodding her in the belly, enjoying the feeling of power it gave him.

“Sorry!” she giggled. “But honestly,” she looked pointedly downwards, “I think there’s more danger of you poking out my eye than cutting out my tongue!” Barney blushed again under his warpaint, old enough to understand what this particular bodily reaction meant but too young to know what to do about it! Mr Marshall, on the other hand, knew exactly what his meant and how to relieve it! Seeing Natasha kneeling on the table with her haunches in the air, he wished he could stick something other than the spit into her tight little pussy. Hearing Hannah spoken to in this way by her friend was only making the situation hotter. He and his wife would certainly be having some fun that evening when all the guests had gone home and the camera was put away!

“Here we go!” He retrieve the first of the spits, greased with vegetable oil as per the instructions. He was sure that Megan and Barney would want to help but knew that this was too important. They, and any other guests who wanted to could help with future basting and serving the meat but the spitting was something he would have to do himself!

“Are you sure about this, pumpkin?” He asked Natasha, quietly. “Once I get more than a few inches in there’s really no coming back. Too much damage would already be done!”

“No I’ve changed my mind about the thing I’ve been looking forward to for weeks and am going to let all my friends go hungry!” She marinaded little girl replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I’m ready!” she grinned as her dad chuckled. “Come on, let’s do this thing!”

“Okay then!” Mr Marshall grinned and, after checking that Mrs Marshall still had the camera rolling, inserted the tip of the spit between Natasha’s eagerly offered lower lips. As he began to push, a shocked hush fell over the party guests. There had been a few, even up to that point, who had firmly believed the whole thing to be an elaborate prank on the part of the twins but there was no denying the reality of what was happening. Right in front of their eyes, their friend was having a sharp, steel pole inserted into her body.

“How does it feel?” Hannah asked curiously once the spit seemed to be a little less than half way. Her sister’s face was contorted but it looked more like discomfort than actual pain. She was neither crying nor screaming so it couldn’t be too bad. The instructions had stated that as long as the spit was properly lubricated, the sharpness of the tip meant that pain would be kept to a minimum, although some of obviously unavoidable. The instructions that came with the spit and every other source he had checked for advice had advised against giving painkillers to a meat-girl as they could negatively effect the flavour and a degree of their effect could be passed on to those who ate the meat, risking adverse reactions.

“Weird!” Natasha replied. “It kinda hurts but not too bad. Bit like a stinging nettle but one the inside?”

“That sounds kinda fun!” Hanna grinned.

“Yeah!” Natasha let out a small moan of pleasure. “The feeling of it sliding in makes up for anything it does inside!”

“Okay one last push and it should be out your mouth.” Mr Marshall informed his daughter. “Seems like we’ve missed everything important along the way so you should at least be alive when we put you over the coals!” Natasha grinned, happy to hear this. “Anything you want to say before you can’t talk any more?”

“Umm…” Natasha turned her head to look at her shocked and excited friends. “Enjoy your dinner and I hope my butt is as tasty as it looks!” The raised a giggle from the watching party-guests and warm chuckles from the parents. Nobody there could deny how delicious the twins’ perky little behinds looked and many were already imagining sinking their teeth into the little girls’ tender meat.

“I’m sure it will be!” Mr Marshall laughed. “Here we go!” He gave a firm push and the tip of the spit erupted out of Natasha’s open mouth. There was surprisingly little blood and it continued to slide through smoothly until it protruded roughly as far in front of her as it did behind. The spitting complete, Mr Marshall carefully helped the impaled girl to lay flat on her tummy before sliding the stabiliser up the pole and into her anus and securing her wrists and ankles with the provided cuffs. “Phew! One down!” He smiled, as much to himself as to anyone else. With the help of another dad, he moved the first meat-girl to the edge of the table, cautioning her teasingly not to roll off. The girls had wanted to cook at the same time so he didn’t want Natasha to be already cooking for as long as it took to get Hannah spitted.

Now he knew what he was doing, however, it did not take long until Hannah was similarly skewered and lay next to her sister on the table like two suckling piglets ready for the rotisserie. It was a shame, their dad reflected, that there was not some kind of double spit system that would have allowed them to be cooked together but at least they were being cooked at the same time!

Both girls were clearly still alive, looking around them and even giggling excitedly around the spits as they were carried over to the mobile roasting pits and locked into position. Once everything was clipped into place, Mr Marshall pushed the buttons that started the motor and caused his two lovely daughters to begin to rotate over the hot coals beneath them. He wondered how long it would be before the garden was filled with the delicious smell of cooking meat?

Now that they had been assured it was safe to approach, the party guests in their cannibal-themed accessories all crowded around the two devices to watch the dinner starting to cook. It was weird and exciting to see their friends as nothing more than food, and to see how delicious they looked. It entered more than one young head to wonder how their own body might look on the spit and how their meat might taste!

Under careful supervision, they all took turns basting the meat the a second coating for the marinade. Everyone seemed to be paying special attention to the twins’ nipples and vulvae, as if worried these very special treats might dry out!

The girls lasted on the spits for almost fifteen minutes before first Hannah then Natasha took her final breath, within a few seconds of each other. Seeing that the twins really were now nothing more than partly-cooked meat and realising that it would still be at least an hour before the food was ready, the interest of most of the children started to wane and they headed back to the pool. Even Megan and Barney joined them, after checking with the host parents that the pool’s filter would be able to handle the paint that washed off them. Only Lucy and Willow remained behind to watch the whole process of cooking, both as naked as the meat girls – more so in a way as they had no marinade to cover their beautiful young bodies.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Lucy whispered to her red-haired friend some time later, when Mr Marshall announced that the meat would soon be ready and that the hungry guests should get out of the pool and dried off, ready to eat.

“I think so.” Willow whispered back with a broad grin. “And I’m game if you are!”



Really cute! Thank you very much!!


Glad you enjoyed it :-D


I love your stories, hope you soon come back to the ones in progress, specially Sydney's exposed.

I am not so familiar with how to post here, but this should be parts of that story you had written before, hope you continue



“My name is Mackenzie Chastain.” The white-haired Southern granny spoke directly into the camera, sat on a sofa with a small television and assorted pictures of children of various ages on the wall in the background. “I am a mother, a grandmother and, as of last week, a great-grandmother. And I am a liar.” She paused to let these words sink in for the viewing public. “For the past years I have helped to deceive America and the entire world, and to cover up a terrible wrong. As the only person left alive who knows the truth, I owe to to my children and grandchildren, as well as all those poor girls, to tell the truth.”

“History records that Sidney Roebuck, youngest daughter of billionaire business mogul Orin Roebuck, was slaughtered and butchered for her meat on 15th August 2022, following her successful campaign and legal battle.” A deep-voiced commentator announced over photographs and video stills of a happy, smiling little girl dressed in nothing but a cowboy hat and boots. “In the years since, the restaurant chain founded in her name has become one of the most successful food businesses in history, recently surpassing McDonalds in like-for-like annual turnover. Laws all around the world have been altered to allow the killing and consumption of girls and young women, with millions slaughtered for food every year. Yet is this vast empire and cultural renaissance all based on a lie? And worse still, a murder? Keep watching as we find out on ‘Sidney Roebuck – Visionary or Victim?’”

In the fourteen hours since the documentary had aired, it felt like the entire food industry had been in damage-limitation mode, and none more so than the chain at the heart of the controversy, Sidney’s, now owned and managed by Sidney Roebuck’s eldest neice, Ellie-May Boswell-Roebuck. Over the years there had of course been questions asked about how much of Sidney’s campaign had been her own idea and whether pressure had been put on her but her famously greedy and ambitious father. Like any young girl who came up with a world-changing idea and dared to challenge the status-quo there were those who sought to paint her as a victim, a mere puppet of manipulative adults. As it had been for Greta Thunberg, so it was for Sidney Roebuck.

Every so often there would be a think-piece article, TV movie, documentary or mass-market paperback that caused people to take pause and think about the girl who had effectively changed the eating habits of the entire world. Perhaps there would be a slump in business for those who traded in girl-meat for a week or two but very soon the questions would be forgotten and everything would go back to normal. Nobody had any reason to suppose that the documentary to be shown on Public Broadcasting channels simultaneously all over the world would cause any more than a ripple, despite the typically grandiose claims of the producers. Nobody had been prepared for the explosive claims made by the show or the public response following it.

Ellie-May Boswell-Roebuck sat in her office with her lawyer, her husband and two closest advisors, watching for the fifth time, trying to find some weak link in the story, some angle they had not yet thought of to debunk the claims. She cursed her father for dying and leaving her to sort out this mess. If it were true, he could have left her a confession to be opened after he was gone and therefore no longer liable for anything it revealed. At least then she’d have been able to prepare, to work out a strategy for if this ever came out. As it was, she had been as blind-sided by the claims as everyone else.

The commentator summarised the well-known story of Sidney Roebuck, the feisty young girl who had won over the hearts and stomachs of America and turned everyone on to the idea of girls as meat. How her legacy had spread to first to Europe then to the east until every civilised nation of the world had accepted the idea of eating girls to one extent or another.

“Tonight,” the voice announced dramatically, “a woman who has kept her council for over six decades breaks her silence and reveals to us the truth about the first girl eaten in America!”

“My birth name,” the Southern granny spoke to the camera again, clearly nervous but convinced of the rightness of her actions, “is Sidney Dorothy Roebuck. I am the youngest daughter of the late Orin Roebuck and it is after me that the world-wide chain of restaurants is named.”

Ellie-May rested her elbow on the desk and her throbbing forehead in her hand. Why did this old lady have to sound so damned plausible? Even if she could be proved to be talking out of her ass, there would still be a huge section of the audience who would believe her just because of how she was and there was no way she and her multi-national, billion-dollar corporation could go after and seek to discredit a sweet old lady without totally coming across as the bad guys, whatever the final outcome.

“It’s true that I campaigned for the right to be eaten,” the granny continued, “that was totally on me. There was nobody forcing me or pulling my strings like some have claimed.” A tiny mercy, thought Ellie-May. “I was utterly convinced of the rightness of my quest and so grateful for my Daddy’s support, right up until the night before the deed was due to be done, the eve of my twelfth birthday.”

They were coming up to the part Ellie-May really hated. Despite her anger, what the old lady said next always moved her to tears, a fact which only made her more angry, as much with herself as with those behind the documentary.

“As I lay in my bed that night, I thought about all the things I would never get to do, the places I would never see, the husband and children I would never have. Around, oh I suppose it would have been maybe ten-thirty or eleven at night, way past my bedtime anyway but I remember my Daddy was still up in his study, I went and told him I’d changed my mind.”

“How did he take the news?” An unseen interviewer asked from behind the camera. The old lady smiled weakly before replying.

“He said I was letting everyone down. That he had put so much into my campaign because it was what I insisted I wanted and now here I was throwing it all away. He told me he’d already applied for permits and lobbied politicians to be allowed to start a chain of restaurants in my name where girls like me could volunteer to be cooked. He was convinced that it was going to more than double his fortune and told me how selfish I was being for trying to to take that away. If I remember correctly,” she continued, “that’s when I started to cry and he hugged me tight and felt like my sweet Daddy again. He told me of course I didn’t have to be killed and eaten if I didn’t want to and that he would sort it out but, tomorrow, I would still have to pretend. He said to trust him and go along with whatever happened once the butcher arrived. He said we’d have to let the world think that I’d been eaten and that I would have to go away, have a new name with new parents that he would find for me. This made me sad again, but he promised to come visit me often and, since my only other choice seemed to be getting cooked and eaten for real, I agreed.”

The old lady looked into the camera with tears in her eyes.

“If I had known what a monster my Daddy really was or what he had planned, I would never have agreed. But you have to remember, I was just a frightened little girl and when he told me that everything was going to be okay, I believed him.”

“We can fast-forward through this next bit.” Ellie-May picked up the remote but her lawyer put out a cautious hand to stop her.

“I think we need to watch it all.” He insisted in a voice that was kind but firm. “If there are any holes in her story, this is where we’re going to find them.”

Knowing that he was right, Ellie-May set down the remote and braced herself to continue watching.

“The next morning came and I gave my speeches to the press as expected of me.” The old lady on the screen continued. “Of course I wore next to nothing, I had honestly stopped caring about that sort of thing by then, even ‘though I had changed my mind about being eaten. There were photographs of me shaking hands with the butcher, checking the recipes all those famous chefs had lined up for my meat, that sort of thing.”

As she spoke, the press photos she spoke of were flashed up on the screen. Ellie-May was very familiar with them of course. Some were even displayed in the very office where she was sat watching the recording.

“The press were even allowed into the room where I was going to be killed.” She looked away from the camera as if feeling too guilty to meet the eye of the viewer. “I had no idea how my Daddy was going to get me out of this, but I trusted him like he told me to. It was then that the specially invited guests came in and I realised. God forgive me I should have put a stop to it all right then and there, or at least gone through with my promise, but you have to remember I was just a frightened little girl.”

There was that expression again, the words that could not help but tug at the heartstrings and conscience of anyone listening. Even if the old lady were speaking off the cuff and not following a script, Ellie-May knew, there was no way she had not been primed with that phrase, fed it by publicists and media-savvy supporters. It was just too perfect.

“I only learned afterwards exactly what had been said.” She spoke softly. “Into the room came my Daddy, his two closest advisors, my oldest brother who was being groomed to take over the company,” This made Ellie-May sick to her stomach. That was her father being spoken of there. From what she had heard within the family, she was frankly prepared to believe anything of her grandfather but her father was a different matter. He had never presented to her a side that was anything other than kind, compassionate, fair and, above all, honest. If he really had been complicit in such a vile deception, then there truly was nothing left in the world she could believe in. “And last of all, my Daddy’s secretary and her daughter. She’d been told she was coming to be a witness as a special treat but really my Daddy had paid her mother three million dollars for her to take my place.” Press photographs from the time were shown on the screen with a red circle drawing the viewer’s attention to a little girl with more than a passing resemblance to Sidney Roebuck standing in front of a woman who was embracing her protectively, a nervous look on her face.

“Some final photographs were taken then the press were all sent out of the room. My Daddy told them I deserved some privacy in my final moments and that they’d be welcome to come back in in a few minutes and photograph the meat. Now as soon as they left, the secretary lady started crying and pushed her little girl forward, saying she was sorry. One of the men grabbed her and stuck a needle in her neck that made her go floppy. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes. That mix of fear and betrayal. She was stripped and my Daddy told me to put on her clothes. We were about the same size and she was a dancer so my body and hers looked pretty much alike. I did as I was told then watched that poor little girl being cut up by the butcher in my place.”

“What happened after that?” the unseen interviewer asked.

“My brother led me and the girl’s mom out a back door where two cars were waiting.” The old lady explained, “I didn’t dare to look at her. I hear the next day that little girl was reported as a run-away. I was taken to a foster home and given a new name with false papers and around six months later I was adopted by a loving couple who both worked for my Daddy. They were wonderful parents and I never saw any of my real family again, despite my Daddy’s promises, nor did I care to. What I had seen that day told me that my family were monsters and I wanted nothing to do with them.”

“Do you have anything particular you want the viewers to know?” asked the interviewer.

“I do.” The old lady nodded resolutely. “The name of that poor little girl was Jessie Thornton. She did not run away from home, she was killed, cooked and eaten, helping my family to launch a global restaurant empire and, to my eternal shame, make people think that eating innocent little girls is both good and normal. Jessie, if you can hear me where you are, I am so so sorry. At the very least it should be your name above the door in lights, not mine.”

The lawyer turned down the volume and allowed the rest of the documentary to roll by quietly. They all knew that the next thirty minutes or so described the rise of the Sidney’s brand and the world-wide cultural changes it brought with it, questioning the morality of those changes if they were based on lies.

“So what have we got?” Ellie-May sat back in her chair and sighed, realising that she needed to approach this crisis as a business-woman rather than allow herself to become too emotionally entangled.

“Well, as you know,” the bespectacled lawyer explained, removing a slim folder from his briefcase, “the cyber attack of March 2038 erased all government records at Federal and State level. A fair amount has been possible to reconstruct from paper records held at local level but there are still a fair number of gaps. We have a death certificate for Sidney Roebuck.” He handed the facsimile document to Ellie-May who read with amusement that cause of death was listed as “Euthanasia with Consent.” How times had changed!

“Here is a birth certificate for a Jessica Thornton which seems to be dated to around the same time and, judging by company records, her mother was a Roebuck Inc. employee. Here’s a police report stating that she’s been reported as missing two days after the date on Sidney’s death certificate and it seems she was declared legally dead two years later when no trace of her had been found. I managed to find a few local news reports of a runaway and asking people to look out for her too but the story never got picked up by any national press.”

Ellie-May leafed through the printouts, photocopies and facsimiles with a rapidly sinking heard. So far, everything that had been claimed on the documentary was apparently backed by at least circumstantial evidence. It was not looking good.

“What about this Mackenzie Chastain?” she asked, any records on her?

“We have a record of a Mackenzie Hammond being in foster care and being adopted by Joel and Lousie Chastain, both Roebuck Inc. employees around the right time and a birth certificate with mother listed as Cindy Hammond and father unknown but no other records. No school, vaccinations, dental, nothing before her adoption. Although, as I said, that doesn’t really prove anything these days.”

“What about other people in the room?” the exhausted woman asked, knowing even as she did so that she was clutching at straws. Her father and grandfather were both dead and anyone who had been an adult at the time would be in their late eighties or early nineties at best!

“Well obviously Orin and Hank Roebuck are no longer with us.” The lawyer replied nervously. Ellie-May nodded for him to continue. “I’ve managed to trace the two aids mentioned. One, Arthur Turner, died five years ago and the other, Franklin Marco, passed away just last month in a care home in Florida.”

“Hmm, convenient timing, wouldn’t you say?” Ellie-May steepled her fingers together, resting her elbows on the desk, and raised an eyebrow. “Interesting at the very least. What about the mother? The one who supposedly got paid to give up her daughter?”

“Well that’s an interesting one.” The lawyer furrowed his brow. “Catherine Thornton was indeed your grandfather’s personal secretary and, as I said, there’s records of her daughter running away and being declared missing, but it seems she left her position just before Christmas that same year, moved out to the country claiming a modest lottery win, this is all in the transcript of her exit interview by the way,” he handed a double-sided typed page to her, “then according to Police reports she was found dead on the anniversary of Sidney’s death, apparently from a drug and alcohol overdose.”

“Accidental or suicide?” asked Ellie-May, a little coldly.

“The coroner said it was inconclusive.” He handed her a reproduction of the hand-written notes, the digital version having been lost in the attack. “But either way, it’s pretty damning.”

“Okay,” she sighed again, “has anyone spoken to the press yet?”

“No.” Her aid informed her. “We’ve been fielding calls all morning telling them to await a formal statement.”

“Good.” Ellie-May glanced at her watch. “Tell them I’ll hold a press conference at mid-day. Until then, keep everything on lockdown.”

“Oh shit, this really isn’t good!” Her husband was looking at his phone. “Apparently congress have put a temporary ban on the production and sale of girl-meat, pending an investigation, and governments around the world are following suite.”

“Crap!” Ellie-May massaged her aching temples. “Get onto the managers of every branch. Tell them to call the donors and tell them not to come in. What about supplies we already have?”

“Apparently private individuals can continue to consume any already-processed meat they have at home but no sale of any kind is permitted and no fresh slaughter or live-cooking.”

“That’s something at least.” She sighed. “We can weather a few weeks of this but its gonna put a load of smaller concerns out of business and that’s gonna be on us too. We need to get this sorted, and fast!”

“What the FUCK?!” The shout was so loud Cam Coleman was sure the windows of the LA penthouse rattled. “WHAT! THE ACTUAL! FUCK!” Trixie Coleman, eldest daughter of Cam Coleman, world-famous vlogger and excited future meat-girl stormed into the kitchen of the penthouse apartment which, by itself, was bigger than most people’s whole homes, and slammed her tablet down on the breakfast bar where her father was trying to enjoy a morning coffee. Cam couldn’t help but wince and offered up a silent prayer of thanks for the relatively recent innovation of shatter-proof phone and tablet screens.

“Something wrong, pumpkin?” he asked sweetly, trying to conceal both his amusement and irritation at his daughter’s histrionics. “You seem a little put out?” The award-winning British actor sipped his coffee.

“Haven’t you seen the news?” Trixie jabbed an angry figure against the tablet screen and he looked down, seeing that it was open on a news page. A video to the right was muted but the headlines were clear enough. He skimmed the rest of the story.

“Lucky we’re not in the girl-meat business, huh?” He chuckled. “This will all blow over in a month or two, these things always do.”

“A MONTH OR TWO?!” Trixie’s outraged shriek hurt his ears. He was sure every dog in a twenty-block radius must have started barking. “Un-fucking-acceptable!” The starlet snarled. “Or had you forgotten?”

“Forgotten what?” Cam asked. He had yet to make it half way down his first coffee of the morning and the list of things he’d forgotten could well be the length of an average screen-play! Besides, there wasn’t really a whole lot he needed to remember. That was one of the perks of being rich and famous – you had people to remember things for you!

“Your Golden Globes party?” The furious teen folded her arms across her extremely ample chest. “The promise you made?” When he continued to look blank she lunged forward, hands on the bar and her face inches from his. “I’m supposed to be cooking in less two fucking weeks! If this ban lasts more than a few days we’re gonna have to cancel and if THAT happens, Miss Trixie will not be happy!”

“Please don’t talk to me like I’m one of your groupies.” Cam sighed and set down his coffee. “Stuff like this never really comes to much and if it does, so what? Is your life so unbearable that you can’t endure it for another year?”

“Another YEAR?”

“Oh whatever it works out being.” He sighed again, scrolling back to the top of the article to read it again in detail. A thought occurred to him. “Have you posted anything about this yet?” He asked, “Any videos or comments or anything?”

“Yeah, I commented on the video and shared it. Why?” Her confusion seemed to calm her down just a little and she took a vacant stool at the bar.

“Oh well, too bad.” Cam took another sip of his coffee.

“Too bad? What are you talking about?”

“Well it’s just this caveat here.” He turned to tablet around so that she could read it and pointed to a particular line. “It says that it’s now illegal to sell girl-meat or kill any girl for food but, if private individuals have any they’re already purchased, they’re allowed to eat it up.”

“So what?” Trixie frowned. “I really don’t get it?”

Cam couldn’t help chuckle a little. He loved his daughter just as much as he loved his other two children and, while her approach was not exactly to his taste, he was proud of the way she had carved out a niche of fame for herself. Of course having famous parents had given her something of a leg-up but now there were legions of her followers only vaguely aware of him and his work, she was genuinely famous in her own right. Despite all this, however, she could be almost unbelievable dense at times!

“I was thinking we could get you killed today and in the deep freeze then bring you out to thaw for the party if you were so desperate to cook. But if you’ve posted that shows you were alive after the announcement was made and were aware of it so that’s whoever cuts your throat up for murder! Oh well.”

“Fuck…” Trixie muttered and kicked the metal leg of the breakfast bar half-heartedly. “Guess I wanna be live-cooked anyway and make a video of it. Not so much fun being bled-out and stuck in the freezer…”

“I guess we just have to wait and see how this plays out!” Cam put a comforting hand on Trixie’s shoulder. “Not a lot either of us can do about it either way.” He finished his coffee as the teen mulled this over. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her.

“But we can!” She turned and grinned her her dad, “We’re exactly the kinds of people who can do something about it!”

“Oh?” he turned and leant an elbow on the bar, intrigued by what she had to say. “How do you figure?”

“Well,” she leaned forward a little, excited to share her idea, “cannibalism got legalised in the first place because some girl with a rich daddy went on TV a lot, showed off her body and said she wanted to get eaten, right? Even if she did change her mind at the last minute which I call bullshit on anyway, it was still enough to convince people that eating girls was okay, right?”

“Mmhmm.” Cam nodded, feeling like he was going to need at least two more cups of coffee to handle this conversation.

“Well since then millions of girls have been eaten, right? And there’s got to be hundreds, if not thousands like me, waiting, who just got told we’re not allowed to be cooked! If I make a video, I bet I can get others to do the same! You get your celebrity friends on board with the campaign and we can have a whole protest! Imagine a thousand naked girls marching on Washington demanding the right to be eaten? It would definitely get some attention!”

“Can’t hurt to try, I suppose!” Cam chuckled. In all honesty, he was far from convinced by her plan but knew that his daughter was always calmer when she had a project of some kind to work on and was likely to be utterly insufferable if he flatly refused to help her campaign. He could certainly afford to throw a couple of million at it if it would make her happy. “News channels might pick up the video,” he reminded her, “better make it a good one! Who not go wake up your sister, if you didn’t wake her up along with everyone in LA a few minutes ago, and get her to help?”

“Thanks, Daddy!” She kissed him on the cheek. “You’re the best!” Before she was even out of the kitchen she began pulling off her t-shirt revealing her somewhat gravity-defying young breasts beneath. Breasts which would very soon be starring in another of her unsurprisingly popular videos.

At Sidney’s HQ, the pressure was continuing to mount. Not only were there multiple calls and emails from angry parents and meat-girls who had had their plans frustrated with multiple knock-on effects but hate-filled messages calling the whole company murderers and condemning them to Hell. Of course, being a business that routinely killed children and young women for meat, it was not utterly without precedent to be the subject of hate-mail from those who, for whatever reason, did not approve, but it had never, even in the early days, accounted for more than 40% of their entire correspondence as it did that morning.

The calls from the girls themselves who had been scheduled to cook either that day or in the near future were easy enough to field, with the workers on the phones explaining that they sympathised with their frustrations and hoped to get everything up and running again as usual very soon. Parents were a little trickier as they were bearing a financial burden – either in not receiving money for their daughter that they had been relying on or for having an unexpected mouth to feed beyond the date they had been informed would be their daughter’s last. There were even those who had needed to cancel holidays or scramble to book an extra ticket as their family would be larger on the travel date by at least one and in some cases two or three than had been assumed at the time of the booking. To these parents, assurances were made that some kind of financial compensation package would be arranged once there was a little more clarity on the ongoing situation.

The most heartbreaking were the calls from the small business owners – butchers and cafes mostly, stuck with inventory they were unable to sell, fears that said inventory would spoil before trade was allowed to commence again and bills to pay in the mean time. They had no direct connection to or dealings with Sidney’s or any other Roebuck Inc. subsidiary but their fates were intertwined with the giant’s every bit as much as the frustrated meat-girls yet it seemed there would be very little the company would be able to do for them other than to try to rectify the situation and have the ban lifted as soon as possible.


Oh brilliant! Thank you! I've been quite keen to finish that one but nobody seemed to have it - so glad you did! Thanks :-D

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