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(TAGS – Cannibal, pre-teen, consensual, exhibitionism, public, spit-roasting, school)

School Dinner
By
Edward Hyde
“You wanted to see me, Sir?” Kerry asked a little nervously, knocking on the half-open door of the Principal’s office. The middle-aged man looked up with a warm smile.

“Ah, Kerry! Lovely!” he stood up behind his desk. “Do come in!” Kerry pushed the door all the way open and walked into the modest office, still wondering why she had been summoned and what kind of trouble she might be in. A woman who she did not recognise, wearing a smart, expensive-looking suit was stood beside the desk and she also smiled warmly as the twelve year old came in but, to her great surprise, her mum was there too, grinning excitedly as if she were there to watch her receive a prize! “Kerry,” Mr Harcourt, the Principal, smiled, “this is Mrs Collins. Mrs Collins, I’m proud to introduce Kerry Mulligan from year seven.”

“Please,” Mrs Collins held out her hand for Kerry to shake, “call me Josie.” Kerry nodded mutely with a polite smile, still not quite sure what was going on. Everyone sat back down, Mr Harcourt behind his desk, Mrs Collins, Josie, on the other office chair that faced it and her mum on the green leather sofa that had seen better days. She patted the cushion next to her and Mr Harcourt nodded approvingly, indicating with his hand that she should sit down. “Now first let me assure you,” he beamed as Kerry’s mum slipped a comforting hand into her own and squeezed it encouragingly, “you’re not in any sort of trouble! We just have some rather big news to share and couldn’t risk it getting out before everything was finalised.” Kerry nodded. “Are you familiar with the Sidney’s chain of restaurants?”

“Yes.” Kerry replied carefully with a slight nod. How could she not be? Since the first one had opened in the UK five years earlier, the American chain had become something of a legend, especially among girls around her age. The restaurant, named after the owner’s daughter, was a family-friendly chain, a treat certainly but well within affordability for most families, especially for special occasions, where all the meat served was from human girls aged between eight and fourteen. Kerry had never been herself and, like many people, had been sceptical about the claims at first, thinking that whole girl-meat angle was just some kind of slightly bizarre marketing gimmick but over time she had spoken to enough friends who had eaten there and seen enough videos of girls being cooked and served up that she was now convinced that it was real.


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In the heart of a bustling suburban neighborhood, where the chorus of children's laughter mingled with the rhythmic thump of a basketball against pavement, Sarah McIntyre was king of the court. Well, at least in her own mind. Her cheeks flushed with the heat of the day, her shoulder length red hair messy as she darted around the court. The ball, a faded orange sphere, was a silent witness to the countless victories she had scored over her invisible opponents. At eleven, she was a force to be reckoned with, her round frame believing in speed and agility rather than the delicate grace society often prescribed for a girl her age.

Her sneakers slapped the concrete as she dashed for the ball that had escaped her grasp. The afternoon sun, a fiery disc in the sky, cast a glow on the pavement that made everything feel a few degrees hotter. Yet, Sarah didn't mind. Sweat beaded on her forehead, tracing tiny rivers down her cheeks. Her t-shirt, once a vibrant blue, was now a patchwork of dirt and grass stains - a testament to her fearless spirit.

Neighboring the basketball court was a small veterinary clinic. It was a nondescript building, the kind that blended into the background of the everyday, but today, it would play a role in a drama she never saw coming. Above the door was a nondescript sign reading 'Dr. Amanda Richards - Animal Care'.

With a determined look in her eye and the ball firmly in hand, Sarah took aim for a three pointer that would surely echo in the annals of her personal legend. She didn't see the window to her left until the sound of shattering glass pierced the air as the ball bounced off the rim and flew straight through it. Time seemed to slow as the ball sailed through the window of Dr. Richards' clinic, leaving a jagged hole in its wake. The world around her stilled, the only sound now the ringing in her ears and the barking of dogs in the chaos she had unintentionally created.

Sarah's heart dropped to her stomach as she stared at the carnage. The shards of glass glittered like a treacherous crown of thorns, beckoning her closer. Inside, a cacophony of alarmed animals filled the room. She knew she had to do something - fast. Before the guilt could fully consume her, she gathered her courage and approached the clinic. The door was unlocked, swinging open with a gentle creak that seemed to amplify in the sudden quiet of the street. The cool interior was a stark contrast to the heat outside, the sterile smell now mixed with the faint scent of fear and confusion from the animals.

The reception area was small but meticulously organized, with a desk in the corner and a few chairs lined against the wall. A bell above the door jingled as she stepped in, announcing her presence. A moment later, a 35-year-old woman with pretty auburn hair and a white lab coat emerged from the back, her eyebrow raising at the sight of Sarah.

The doctor held up a ball.

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In particular, anyone have his story “Heroes vs Zakos”?

A Farmer’s Market Feast
By
Edward Hyde
“Here I am, Mummy! All clean!” Carmen declared, stepping out of the shower, pink and dripping wet. He turned all around on the spot to show that he had washed himself properly as his proud mother knelt on the bathroom floor.

“Good boy!” she praised him. “I’m so proud of you doing that all by yourself!” Carmen beamed. This was not just a normal shower with normal soap. This time he had needed to scrub himself all over with the clear, unscented body-wash which felt like it had sand mixed into it to make sure all the dirt came out of his skin and made him safe to eat. The last thing he wanted was to give anyone a tummy-ache! Mummy had offered to get in with him and help but he was a big boy and had wanted to do it on his own, something he had successfully down, even remembering to scrub deep in the crack of his bottom and to pull back the skin at the end of his willy to clean underneath. “I think that deserves a special kiss!” Carmen’s beam of pride turned into a broad grin of excitement! Mummy’s special kisses were one of his favourite things but normally they were reserved for bed time and then only when he had been a very good boy that day!

Licking her lips a little as she leaned forward, his mum took Carmen’s little willy between her thumb and forefinger. Already a little stiff from the excitement and anticipation of the day’s events to come, she massaged it gently until it stood at full attention then put her warm, soft lips around it. This was the first time Carmen could remember getting a special kiss standing up! Normally they happened when he was laying in bed, his pyjama bottoms pulled down to his knees and his top hitched up past his tummy. For balance, he put his hands on his mum’s shoulders as she sucked and licked him at the same time, giving him that nice tingly feeling. After a few minutes, he felt the pressure building behind his willy as his mum tickled his little marble sack with with tips of her fingers then the familiar happy explosion and the last bit of licking as Mummy hungrily sucked the last few drops of thin, watery cream from the tip of his willy.

“Good boy!” she grinned, standing up and reaching for a towel to dry him off. “There!” she patted his bare bottom once he was reasonably dry. “Go put on your outfit and we’ll get going!” A few minutes later, Carmen was downstairs in his denim dungarees, plaid shirt and baseball cap with the logo of a farm equipment company on it that Uncle Silas had given him on his visit to the farm. On his feet he wore bright red wellington boots that, to his seven year old eyes at least, completed the farmer look.

It had been three years since Uncle Silas had quit his job in the city and bought the long-disused farm with its ramshackle house and barn, complete with leaking roof and toilet that only flushed if it was in a good mood, with the intention of not only doing up the house to make a nice home but also working the farm to grow potatoes. He had enjoyed a certain degree of success, although it would be another couple of years at least before he actually turned a profit, given the amount of investment that had been required to get things going! Although wholesale was his biggest outlet, he did like to sell to the public as well via a small roadside stand near the entrance to his property and now he wanted to break into the ready-to-go food market via a baked potato stand and the local farmer’s market which was held on the first Sunday of every month.


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Dying to be Eaten?
By
Edward Hyde
“Did you see that documentary last night?” Jackson’s co-worker had asked him, apropos of nothing as they waited for access to the kettle in the break room.

“Might have to give me more to go on!” Jackson had chuckled. “I mean, I didn’t see any documentaries last night so the answer’s definitely no but which one in particular did I miss?”

“The one about those girls who are going to get butchered and eaten!” his co-worker had explained. “Can you believe that?”

“The Louis Theroux one?” Jackson had asked, recognition dawning. “Yeah, I saw it last year. Pretty wild, huh?”

“No, not that one.” He’d been informed with just a hint of impatience. “There’s a new one. You know, because they’re making it legal here in September?”


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EXTREME FICTION / FANTASY ONLY – 18+ ONLY

This is pure fantasy. All characters are consenting adults.
Contains: graphic consensual snuff, ritual seppuku/hara-kiri, detailed evisceration, autophagy (self-cannibalism), extreme gore, intense pain, organ exposure, blood, bodily fluids and death agony.

If these themes disturb you, please do not read.

Feedback is very welcome – especially on pain realism and anatomical details.

---

**The Liberation of the Spirit** – Teil 1


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Mistress Skye – Superstar!
By
Edward Hyde


The rest of the evening continued as smoothly as it had begun with the second and third audiences being every bit as appreciative as the first. For the middle show, to keep things fresh, a couple of the executions were gender-swapped from the first, with a boy of fifteen receiving the lethal injection while covering his belly in spunk as the girl chosen to operate the controls flooded him with the orgasm-inducing chemical for nearly the whole time, watching as the pleasure itself became the torture, before inflicting the final quarter of the dose all in one go with the dial turned all the way around to the pain setting. Before moving on from that room, many of the audience had paused to take photos of his face locked, in death, in an expression of unimaginably agony. It gave Skye great pleasure to know how much Dinah would have enjoyed watching others tortured to death by the method she devised for herself, especially as the teen girl executed in the third show was her big sister Martina!

The beheading had to stay a girl, of course, since that prisoner once again provided the meat for the barbecue and Skye knew the paying guests would feel cheated if served boy-meat. Even ‘though it was no longer illegal for human consumption and in most blind tests, hardly anyone could actually tell the difference, it was still considered by most to be vastly inferior to girl-meat and it didn’t seem fair for one set of ticket-holders to get short-changed in this way!

The most interesting swap had probably been the “heretics”, where a girl was hung from the hooks to suffer death by a thousand cuts while it had been a boy strapped into the garotting chair. What made this variation especially interesting was the introduction of a secondary vice clamped around his testicles, slowly crushing them with each turn on the smaller handle. The boy, a fourteen year old named Colin, had abstained from sex or masturbation for the seven days leading up to the event, no mean feat at his age, so that they would be nice and swollen when the time came. Of course his member had stood bolt upright, engorged and proud as, naked of course, he was strapped into the chair and the castration began. The tighter the vice was turned, the more he screamed and blood began to ooze out among the pre-cum. When the engorged testicles finally exploded, he had ejaculated a spectacular fountain of blood mixed with seven days-worth of pent-up spunk. This had elicited more applause than his actual death a few minutes later!

The girl hanging from the hooks had been an interesting variation too – the middle one being inserted into her vagina and emerging bloodily through her mons pubis. Although once again too thin to provide a decent amount of meat, her bust was not insubstantial and, like her predecessor's PENIS, it was her breasts, hooks pushed through below the nipples, which attracted the most attention at first with people enjoying the way they gradually distended and pulled themselves apart. One man, after seeking permission from Skye of course, even cut a careful spiral in the less damaged one, using as many of the existing cuts as he could, so that the full and perky teen breast unravelled like orange peel! A nick to the artery in her inner thigh meant that she was dead long before the hooks gave way and was therefore available to take her place on her designated cross.


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Hello Dolcett Fans,

I know it has been a few months since my last story was published. The reason is (besides a break) I have been hard at work brainstorming, outlining, and drafting my next major project:

***One (More) Week in Dolcett - Scarlett Sky***

The original story was extremely popular through Reddit, with over 10,000 plays on Itch over the last year. I've been thinking about developing a sequel over the past year and have finally committed to the journey required to complete a story of this magnitude. If you have not read/played the original, it can be accessed on Itch:

https://strict-smile2087.itch.io/one-week-in-dolcett

The sequel will be a brand new feature length story that will take place several years past the canon ending of One Week in Dolcett, involving a scenario where Scarlett faces what appears to be a simple quest and short journey back to Dolcett. I don't want to give any spoilers, but nothing in Dolcett ever goes as expected, and a wiser, stronger, and more confident Scarlett takes on an even more dangerous world of Dolcett in a story poised to change her, and that world, forever.

Featuring:

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The general plot was a group of women playing Russian Roulette. One of them (Kimmy, I think her name was) goes first and blows her brains out. Another girl comments about how she should've waited for them to unload the gun. The girls continue anyway with the gun still fully loaded.

Does anyone know where I can find this story?

This is part 2 of Riley's story, a direct continuation from Riley's Conversion. It's much shorter but, I hope, just as emotionally deep.

This is the tale of Amara, currently a ghost, haunting a maritime museum full of salvage from the shipwreck of the "Tarberry". This was a ship involved in the 18th century triangle trade. She would sail off from, say, Philadelphia with whisky and tobacco to Southampton, England, where she would be loaded with clothes and other manufactured items, and from there, she sailed to West Africa, where she would take on people, freshly captured in war or some other barbarities, and take those captives off to Virginia or the Carolinas to be auctioned off. It was a lucrative trade, this triangular route, and the sailors were adept at handling the ships with billowed sail for months on end.

Amara was a West African mom with somewhat sizable boobs (displayed topless in the typical West African fashion of the day) and a curvy butt (hidden inside a long flowing dress). She had a love of dancing and her nappy, braided hair was cropped short. Amara was not really skinny at first, she was somewhat plump. Such was her condition when she was captured by a band of warriors while caring for her kids outside her Igbo hut.

According to our seance, Amara recounted as follows, although it was translated from her native Asusu Igbo language.

"The bad men had grabbed me roughly by the wrists and ankles and tied me to a pole. I kicked and screamed, trying to get attention. Unfortunately, my children and husband were too far off to hear me. I must have peed, as I felt wetness dripping down my behind; my skirt was still on at this point. My captors loosened my hair and they started carrying me, like people might carry dead animals they intend to cook and eat, one man on each end of the pole. I bounced and shook and my wrists and ankles became so raw from the rubbing that they bled. This trek took most of the day, then they would set me down in the dirt, then they would pick me up again, and then at night, I would be tied with my ankle to a rope around a tent pole. I would eat and do my business in the tent. My captors used knives to cut my clothes off, so that I stood, dark and imposing and quite naked in the chilly tent. I peed on one of the warriors, who then got angry and threw a punch into my side, causing my ribs to hurt and my boobs to jiggle and shocking pain to radiate. I didn't want to create any more trouble. I was left alone the rest of the night.

It took a few days to get to the place of the Tarberry. This was what the sailors called a wharf, with a long pavilion next to the vast waters and several massive boats, all with poles sticking out of them and canvas sails on the poles.

The sailors, now, they were a drunken lot. They slurred their words and stumbled around, they were rude, they got into fights. They also lined us up against posts and looked over us head to toe. They stuck their filthy hands into our mouths, opened them wide, and they looked at my breasts and behind and legs and vagina. A few even stuck their fingers in my dark smelly liquid twat, causing me to wrinkle my nose. One of them spoke in his gibberish, and I could see his bulge in his trousers as he felt all over me.

Then they put me in manacles and chains, and I was buckled by my ankles and wrists again and forced to walk the gangway to the big boat, the Tarberry. I was shoved down the hold so hard that my feet were a mess of pain and my knees buckled. I felt warmth down my legs: my bladder had let go again. I was laid down cheek to jowl on a shelf in the darkness where we couldn't move, or at least not without difficulty. We rolled in the dark, as the boat moved through the water; the ship moved back and forth and up and down quite vigorously. I felt nauseous and I spewed up my belly's contents. I was loosened from my shackles every now and then, to pee and eat slop and poop, but otherwise it was an interminable lying in the darkness."

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Diary of a Meat-Girl – Sidney Roebuck in Her Own Words
By
Edward Hyde


EDITOR’S FOREWORD


Sidney Dorothy Roebuck, born August 15th 2010, died August 15th 2022, on her twelfth birthday, was my Great Aunt, the youngest sibling and only sister of my father, Alexei Roebuck. As the first person to be legally killed for the express purpose of being eaten in recorded history, she is one of the most iconic figures to have come out of the twenty-first century and arguably more has been written about her than other other historical figure since Jack the Ripper. Like the infamous Ripper, however, a great deal of what is written about her is speculation, the discussion of her feelings and motives based on carefully managed television and magazine interviews and, while it has become widely known and understood that the Sidney we all recognise today as the mascot of the international restaurant chain was simply a character she portrayed, the creation of an expert marketing team, this is still the only Sidney most people know.

In 2084, the world was rocked by the claim that Sidney had changed her mind at the last minute and allowed another, unwilling girl to be killed in her place. Although this claim was proven to be a lie and the woman claiming to be Sidney was, in fact, the girl she claimed had been used as a substitute, the scandal reawakened public interest in Sidney as a person and her relationship with Jessica Thornton after whom the fast-food chain Jessie T’s, a subsidiary of Sidney’s Inc. (Formerly Roebuck Inc. Worldwide) is named. With very few living witnesses who had known either girl, this too became a topic of speculation, the only first-hand source being a letter written by Sidney to Jessica in which she laments their estranged friendship and expresses hopes that Jessica will accept the invitation to attend her slaughter and that they might be reconciled. Since the true identity of the woman who claimed to be Sidney was only discovered after her death from natural causes, the real Jessica was unable to shed any more light on their friendship, the full cause of its ending or the effect it had on Sidney.

While some of Sidney’s personal property was put on display in Roebuck International Hotels or in branches of Sidney’s Family Restaurant when they began to open, or donated to museums such as the Smithsonian and the Bullock Texas State History Museum, these tended to be pieces that related to her campaign and were deemed to have historical significance. The rest of her property was packed away by the family’s staff and put into storage where it remained until three two years ago when a leak was discovered in the roof of the building where the boxes were stored and they were moved to a safe location while the repairs were carried out. The family, including myself, took this opportunity to sort through the decades old artefacts to see what should be kept, what needed to be disposed of and what might be considered of interest to scholars and historians such as myself.

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*Soon may the Wellerman come
Bringing sugar and tea and rum
One day when the tonguing is done
We'll take our leave and go...*

(start with the Wellerman song)


Once there was this cannibal gang, a band of pirates in the Caribbean that had taken wives among the Caribs and the Polynesians and managed to reproduce, and they had heard of the practice of tonguing a whale and thought to appropriate that habit.

So, of course, along came a sailing ship, a Wellerman, up from New Zealand bringing sugar, tea, rum, and Chinese, Kiwi, and British migrants to the shores of Caribanesia, the isles of the pirate cannibals. The British and Chinese attempted to start towns and the Maoris tried a village of their own. However, the pirate descendants, clad in a mix of Native Caribbean and 17th century European garb and brandishing flintlocks and torches and pistols, raided the little settlement of New Liverpool. They burned the town and made off with a few young people, having slain elderly and other folks in the process. This consisted of three men and four women. Of the men, two were British and one Chinese, and the women were a blonde Brit, a flower of China with dark hair and white skin, a tanned and somewhat fierce looking Maori with chin tattoo, and a Malay in a hijab and flowery skirt. All were tied up in rope and made to walk a couple miles over rough tropical and volcanic terrain by sword point and gunpoint, until they came to the tonguing grounds.

The Chinese man and one of the British men were made quick work of. They tied both to stakes already at the grounds and lashed them painfully. They cut off their heads, their private parts, and other extremities and started skinning and cutting the fat off of them while everyone else watched. They then cut the meat off their bones and threw the meat onto a smoking rack to slowly smoke.

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Answer: You have to feed a Tribble before they will multiply.

Can we please put all the Edward Hide stories into one thread? Most authors have threads for their work. Edward is great but he is now filling pages and PAGES of this place. It is getting to the point where it is hard to find anything else weather by scroll or search.

Can we PLEASE! organise this a bit? Either Edward himself or a mod please?!?