The whistle blew again, and the other butchers thanked Ken for sharing the meatsluts from his line with them, and left to go back to their own work tasks.
The three meatgirls, faint from bloodloss, and worn down from the energetic fucking they’d just taken, dangled from their suspending metal hooks. Each of them made inhuman weak, strangled gasping noises. By now, their intestines were spilling out of their bellies, and freely hanging below their crotches.

Ken had gone back to the pile of their arms and legs, and was gently feeding them into an industrial mincer. Strings of pink ground meat came out the other end. Violet stared as one of her own thighs got pulled in by the whirring meshed teeth of the device. She watched as it ate the dismembered limb slowly, her painted toes disappearing last into the metal funnel to be minced.

He wheeled a long deep tray over to sit in front of the three human pigs. Violet looked up to meet his eyes, desperately begging in her soft unintelligible rasping. He patted her head like he understood what she was trying to say.
“Sorry Sow, I know what you’re thinking. Every meatgirl on my line always begged for a quick death in the end… But I’m afraid you’re all going into the ovens alive. But the good news is I get to watch you dance as you burn. Violet’s hazy brain went blank, it felt like she’d been hit in the head by a sledgehammer. She barely felt it as he whipped his knife in to separate her stomach, anus and vaginal canal. His hands reached in and pulled out her guts as one giant, bloody mess, plopping them into the tray unceremoniously.

Eleanor gave a weak ‘oh’ grunt as her internal organs joined her mother’s in the metal receptacle. Harper, on the other hand, broke from her catatonia and kicked up a fresh and enthusiastic fuss, thrashing to prevent her intestines from being removed. The butcher was so experienced, he didn’t even wait for her bucking to die down. He just reached up and steadied her organs with his hand, and slashed in exactly the right spots. The small handful of her guts was expelled from her belly with a wet pop. She stopped squirming and looked down at her empty abdominal cavity in disbelief. Violet could see the wheels turning in her youngest daughter’s head as she came to the understanding that she was about to be converted into a Sunday roast. The despair on her face was heartbreaking for Violet. She looked down at her own empty belly, and could see the white of her pelvic bone, stark against the deep red of her meat.

The butcher returned with the pile of mince that had once been their limbs. Carefully he sewed shut the cut holes of Violet’s pussy and asshole, and stitched up the bottom of her belly slice. His hands shoveled the rich meatgirl mince back into her empty cavity, sealing it shut as he did so. When he was done, Violet looked like she was nine months pregnant again. Her girls got the same treatment, and soon they were all pot bellied and ready to roast. Violet felt ill, and wanted to vomit, but she no longer had a stomach with which to do so, so she just dry retched.

“There you go - All perfectly stuffed.” He said with genuine pride in his work. Violet didn’t understand how he could be such a monster. It was like they were nothing to him, just racks of meat ready to go in the oven.
“HEY RYAN, WE’VE GOT THREE PRIORITY ROASTERS FOR OVEN 12, KEEP THE DOOR OPEN FOR ME.” he shouted to a coworker, who was just pulling out the roasted bodies of the three schoolgirls who had gone ahead of them. Violet smelled the sweet aroma of roasted meat. It made her salivate, despite the fact that she couldn’t even eat it if she wanted to. Their golden brown roasts dripped meat juices. Their teen carcasses were a vision of the near future for Violet and her daughters.

The hooks in her shoulders lifted her up and loaded her onto an overhanging carousel. The entire process of delivering their fileted bodies to the ovens was automatic. As they neared the open industrial oven door, Violet could feel the intense heat radiating from within. Eleanor, who was closest, tried to turn away from the blazing furnace. It dried out Violet’s skin even from outside. All three meatgirls breathed quickly and shallowly, trying to mentally psych themselves up to deal with the upcoming pain that was sure to come.

Ken wasn’t even looking at them anymore, his attention was already on the next batch of women that he needed to prepare. He was so utterly desensitized to the suffering of his victims, that he wasn’t even watching when Violet, Eleanor and Harper were rolled into the superheated metal box and the door slammed shut. The heat burned her sensitive skin immediately. Her unprotected nipples burned hot, like the worst sunburn of her life, and she’d barely spent any time in the oven. She inhaled deeply in shock. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath. Her lungs caught fire as she screamed silently into the scalding air. Where before, she’d been hanging wearily, unable to muster any more energy to move, now she was reinvigorated by the agony of being roasted alive. Violet wriggled on her hooks like a caught fish. Eleanor and Harper squirmed alongside her, each slowly going crazy in the unbearably hot enclosure. Violet’s tears sizzled as they dribbled onto her cheeks, evaporating into steam before they got to the bottom of her chin. Her eyeballs dried, and she could feel the remaining saliva in her mouth boiling her tongue

Through blurry vision, Violet could see that Harper was already cherry red and spasming as her central nervous system fried. Her smaller kid body meant that she was roasting faster than her older sister and mother. She hadn’t stopped screaming since she entered the oven. Without a larynx, and in the high heat, it was just coming out as a quiet, high pitched whistle. Her cauled eyes were rolled back in their sockets.

Eleanor was finally succumbing to the heat herself. Her tiny, ripe titties had shrunk a bit and were the colour of beetroot. The tiny buds of her nipples were already beginning to brown. A steady dribble of vaginal fluids evaporated between her legs before it could splatter on the floor. Her amputated hips gyrated as she thrashed like a virgin bride on her wedding night. Her tiny pussy, usually hidden between the folds of her pubic mound, was swollen and on full display. Her vulva twitched as it sizzled like bacon in a pan.

Violet’s own clitoris stung, like the time she’d accidentally touched herself after getting hot sauce on her fingers. Her slit was still wet from her previous arousal, but it was quickly drying out, unlike Eleanor's sopping cunt. Her full breasts were now globes of agony. The skin stretched tight and blistered, the skin on her boobies cracking painfully as the fat just under the surface caramelized. Her belly bulge squeezed so tightly, Violet thought she was going to pop open. Inside her skull, her brain sauteed in its own hydrocephalic fluid. She was wracked by convulsions so hard that they almost broke her spine. She was so retarded by brain damage that she could hardly form a proper thought, let alone care about her daughters’ condition anymore. Violet just hung there and fried like a good meatgirl. She gave up resisting, and finally truly accepted her role as meat. There was great peace she found in her suffering.

Three plump roasts twitched sporadically, somehow still clinging tenuously to life despite their tortured browning skin and cooking hearts and lungs. Their thick dry tongues protruded through roasted rictus lips. Three sets of Unseeing eyes stared blankly past the glowing orange grills of the heating elements. One by one, they convulsed their last and fell still; just lifeless hunks of roasting meat. Their dead bodies hung limply, continuing to gain the proper colour as they absorbed the heat evenly into their meat. Violet, Eleanor, and Harper would make for a fine feast.