This is a story I began last year but never finished. Thanks to a helpful reader I've been able to recover the first part and now mean to finish it. Part 1 consists of everything previously published and my new installments pick up with Part 2 :-)
“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?”
“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.
“So, what do you think?” Cam Coleman asked his agent once he had outlined the plan his second cup of coffee had helped him come up with. “Good publicity?”
“It’s not without its risks,” his agent, Maxwell Crawford replied in careful, measured tones. “Especially if pubic opinion really does stay firmly against the practice. But in that scenario we can always deflect the emphasis away from the actual cannibalism side of things and focus on the community-spirited nature of your actions.”
“Sure!” Cam chuckled. “But with Trixie’s campaign, I could hardly claim to be against the idea, could I?”
“Well, no.” Crawford conceded. “But I do think focussing on the idea of helping out the community and the small businesses impacted by these emergency laws is a better angle for you to take than outright stating your support of the girl-meat industry. And there’s something else I’d like you to consider.”
“Fair point.” Cam agreed. “What’s that?”
“Well,” his agent explained, “I know you’re one of the wealthiest working actors in Hollywood right now…”
“Top five, according to the last couple of magazines I read!” Cam chuckled. Not bragging, simply confirming the fact.
“So,” continued Crawford, “I know you could fund this thing out of your own pocket and not exactly lose any sleep over it, but it always plays well with the public when the great and the good come together to address and issue. That’s why charity concerts and the like are so popular.” Cam nodded and asked what his agent had in mind. “I was thinking make this a group effort. You know, get some others on board. I’ll make a few phone calls and see who else among the glitterati wants to lend their name to this, and maybe chip in a dollar or two?”
“Sure!” Cam smiled. “Make the calls. Whatever you think best. Let me know if I need to do an interview or something. Get the lawyers to send over anything I need to sign.” After thanking his agent again, he ended the call and closed the laptop then went down the hallway to his eldest daughter’s room. Not in the mood to end up in one of her videos in his current early-morning state, he knocked on the door and waited.
The door was answered by his younger and far more sensible daughter Rainbow. She was still in her nightwear, as was every sensible person at that hour of the morning, Cam could not help thinking, a long yellow t-shirt that came almost to her knees and had a printed unicorn design on the front. In her hand she was holding Trixie’s tablet – clearly the sisters had been making a video.
“Mind if I come in?” Cam asked. “Hope I’m not interrupting?”
“No, come on in!” He heard Trixie’s voice coming from around the corner, out if sight of the doorway.
“We’ve just finished filming.” Rainbow held up the tablet by way of explanation. “It’s uploading now, then we wait for comments and respond to the most interesting ones. Of course,” the mature twelve year old rolled her eyes, “most of them will just be losers saying what they want to do with Trixie’s tits but whatever!”
“I have some news I thought you’d like to hear.” Cam walked into the room and was not surprised to see his eldest daughter stark naked sat in the swivel-chair in front of her computer desk. She had always been something of an exhibitionist but since he had agreed to her becoming a meat-girl and signed the official forms categorising her as such, it was somewhat rare to catch her with clothes on - especially if there were cameras around!
“Ooh what’s that, Daddy?” the naked teen asked eagerly as Cam perched himself on the end of the bed. “You got them to overturn that stupid ban so I can get cooked like we planned?”
“Not exactly!” Cam chuckled, “Not yet, anyway. But I have put something in motion that I hope will get a lot of press attention that we can use to support your campaign too. I spoke to a couple of the caterers we use regularly and they said business like theirs are having all sorts of problems as they’re not allowed to sell girl-meat any more. It’s okay for the restaurants that get their meat from live girls as they can just switch to serving something else for a while, or shut down until things are sorted if they think they can afford to, but smaller businesses like cafes and butchers are stuck with a lot of meat they can’t sell!”
“What a waste!” Rainbow exclaimed, sitting down next to her dad and idly skimming through the comments on Trixie’s latest video that had started to pour in. It seemed her sister’s campaign idea had caught her followers’ imaginations and was likely going to be quite a big thing. But that could wait – she wanted to hear about her famous dad’s plan. While Trixie was determined to be a meat-girl, Rainbow saw her future at the other end of the knife – she wanted to be a girl-meat chef and Cam had promised her that she could help prepare her sister when the time came. This story, therefore, and its effects on the industry possibly meant even more to her than it did to Trixie and besides, she hated the idea of food going to waste when there were still hungry people in the world.
“Exactly.” Cam put his arm around her shoulder and she leant into him a little. “And this could put a lot of good, hard-working people out of business, having a massive impact on their families and that sort of thing. Now, I know this doesn’t solve the over-all problem and we can all work together on the campaign to get the ban lifted but for now, some friends and I have thought of a way to help out. Now, we know we can’t buy the meat but we’ve pledged to make a donation of one and a half times the value of any stock on hand to any girl-meat trader who donates their surplus to homeless shelters. There’s no law against eating the meat of girls that have already been butchered, not yet anyway, or against giving it away so we thought this would be the perfect solution!” In truth, the scheme had been entirely Cam’s own idea but he figured that if he was to share the credit in front of the press, he may as well get used to it now, even if he did not yet know who these generous friends might be!
“Oh wow, Daddy! That’s awesome!” Trixie launched herself across the room onto him, planting a big wet kiss on his cheek and her bare behind on his lap. “You’re the best Daddy ever!”
“I try!” Cam chuckled, not hating the feeling of having a naked teenager on his lap, even if she was his daughter. “Now why don’t you show me your new video and tell me about your campaign?”