“What are you reading?” Helen asked with a smile, coming into the bedroom and seeing her friend Laura sat up on her bed deeply engrossed in an old-looking book.

Hamilton Hall was an old-fashioned but extremely successful girls’ boarding school in Warwickshire, the equal of an exclusive, fee-paying school in England. The main difference between it and its rivals being that it was entirely free to attend. No fees were charged to the girls or their parents, no was any charge made for their boarding or food. Even the strictly-enforced uniform was provided by the school. The lucky girls who attended wanted for nothing and no ethnicity or social background was either over-represented or excluded. While more than two thirds of the pupils did happen to be white, this was far more down to general demographics than any factor in the selection process. Every pupil graduating from the privately-run institution was all but guaranteed a place at any Oxford of Cambridge college they desired, or equivalent university abroad such as those in America’s Ivy League. As such, places at Hamilton Hall were highly sought after and the selection process extremely rigorous. Only the best and the brightest could gain one of the twenty-four coveted places for each new intake.

Although the entry tests had of course been changed and updated many times since the founding of the school, they were always devised according to the philosophy of its founders, Lord Arthur Hamilton and his wife Henriette. This trail-blazing pair believed that true intelligence lay in the ability to solve riddles and situations rather than simply taking in information. They were keen that, unlike other selective schools, it would be impossible for ambitious parents to have their daughters coached to pass their test, favouring by default those families who could afford to hire private tutors. No knowledge per se was required to pass the Hamilton Hall entrance exam, only the ability to think and reason. Any girl who could read and write to a basic level had an equal chance of scoring highly.

Of course along with the great opportunity, high expectations were placed on the pupils with strict academic rigour and even stricter discipline. Not that the school was an unhappy place for its pupils aged eleven to eighteen – rules were strictly enforced but fairly without any attempt to trip the pupils up or emphasise one rule over another at the whim of any given teacher. All the pupils were well aware of every rule and equally aware of the consequences for breaking them. Even the punishments, on the rare occasion they were replied, were fair and designed to fit the crime but, in general, with the girls so well looked after and supported by the staff team, including the teachers who delivered the lessons and the support staff who supervised the residential and leisure aspects of school life, invoking the disciplinary process was a rare event indeed.

“It’s the diary of Arthur Hamilton.” Laura set the book down on her lap and smiled. “Well, the journal he published when he got back from his famous trip. There’s like five copies in the library downstairs!”

“Don’t you know that story already?” Helen laughed. “They tell us every year when there’s new first-years.”

“Yeah they tell us the basic story,” agreed Laura, “but there’s way more in the book than the way they tell it in assembly. It’s got photos too.” She turned the open book around to show her friend, turning it on its side so that the picture would be the right way up. It was a very formal, sepia portrait showing three slightly horse-faced white girls with long, slightly curly brown-looking hair, from pre-teen to late teens. It was not difficult to recognise the trio from the portrait that hung in the dining hall – they were the daughters of Lord and Lady Hamilton. However, the rest of the picture could not have been more different from the familiar painting!

The three girls in this picture were lined up in front of what looked to be the whole tribe from the village on the island where the expedition had taken place, stark naked!

“Wow!” Helen grinned as she looked at the slightly blurry reproduction. “I guess that was just before… you know!” All the girls in the school knew the story of how the Hamilton daughters had agreed to be cooked served at the village’s great annual feast and in exchange, the titled explorer and his wife had been gifted with a lot of gold and precious stones by the people of the village which they had sold upon their return and used some of the money to found the school, investing the rest to leave a legacy of free, top-quality education that was still being enjoyed today.

“Are there any… you know?” Helen blushed a little, embarrassed by her own interest, “After pictures, where they’re cooking?”

“Absolutely!” Laura grinned, flicking through the book to find the relevant pictures. “This is Constance in the stew pot.” She turned the book around to show a picture of the youngest daughter sitting in a large clay pot looking surprisingly happy as various girls and women from the village stood around her adding ingredients and stirring the pot.

“So this was an annual thing?” Helen was intrigued. “Like, every year they’d cook some girls? I guess they were normally ones they’d captured from other tribes or something?”

“Sounds like the different villages used to trade girls with each other most of the time, for eating,” Laura explained, remembering the Victorian explorer’s detailed notes she had just been reading. “Kinda like how noble families around Europe used to marry their sons and daughters to each other for alliances.”

“Makes sense!” Helen nodded.

“But for this one festival,” Laura continued, “they’d cook girls from the village. It was a big deal to be chosen so by cooking the guests, they were giving them the greatest honour they could!”

“Wow!” laughed Helen, sitting down on the edge of her friend’s bed and taking the book from her. “Wonder if the Hamilton girls saw it that way?”

“They’d been there several months by then.” Laura explained. “I guess they’d been kinda talked into it? They look happy enough, don’t you think?” Helen flicked through the book, using her thumb to find the thicker, glossy pages where the photographs were reproduced. There were lots of normal family ones of course, both on their adventures and back home in England, as well as various pictures of the girls growing up from babies. Then of course each had a special close-up of their cooking followed by a group picture of the village and the two adult explorers tucking into the feast.

The middle daughter who, if she remembered correctly, was fourteen at the time was shown roasting on a spit like a pig or deer while the oldest girl, sixteen years old at the time of her death, was shown with her arms above her head with a rope which hung from the branch of a tree. She was missing her left breast and stood next to her was an old man, from the look of his finery the chief or at least a village elder, grinning toothily and holding the severed breast in one hand and a knife in the other.

“All looks kinda intense!” Helen gave a low whistle. “No wonder they don’t go into details when they tell the story in assembly. I guess I always kinda assumed they either all went in a pot like in the cartoons or got butchered before they were cooked. But no, they don’t look upset about it! I wonder what… wait a minute!” She broke off, flicking back a few pages and furrowing her brow. “Who’s that?” She held the book out to Laura.

“Oh!” She chuckled. “That’s another bit they didn’t tell us! It wasn’t just the girls that got eaten. When they first met the tribe they were apparently really suspicious and Hamilton was worried what might happen so, having heard about their local customs, he offered the maid who was travelling with them as a sort of good-will gift!”

The picture that had caught Helen’s eye was of two tribesman standing proudly either side of the headless body of a busty young women, naked of course strung up by her feet like the catch of the day with her hands removed and belly open. The head was on a spike off to one side.

“So they butchered and cooked her and invited the family to join in the meal.” Explained Laura. “And that’s how they, you know, made friends!”

“I’m guessing she didn’t exactly volunteer!” Helen frowned a little, trying to imagine how she would feel in that position. Scared, of course, but also betrayed. Presumably there had been some assumed duty of care when the maid was chosen to travel with them – the idea that her employers would look after her as much as was reasonable, yet they had handed her over to a tribe of savages to be killed, cooked and eaten! Flicking back to earlier pictures she could see the maid in the background of some of the pictures. She was in her early twenties and nothing special to look at but kinda pretty in her own way.

“Can you imagine?” Laura tucked her knees up to her chest and hugged them as she looked thoughtfully towards the window and the beautiful Warwickshire countryside beyond. “You’re on the trip of a life-time with your parents and start making new friends with the locals then suddenly you get asked to let them eat you?”

“Must have been really weird!” Helen shook her head, thumbing through the photos again. “Wonder how many other girls they’d already tasted by then to get them used to the idea? Wish we had their diaries too!”

“Nope, only their dad’s!” Laura reached over and took the book back. “The great hero explorer telling the story the way he wanted it to be known! You know…” She slipped a bookmark between the pages to mark where she’d got to and set the book down on her night-stand. “I wonder if they got so used to eating girls on their trip that they carried on when they got back?”

“Never heard of anything like that.” Helen pondered. “Wouldn’t there be stories about it?”

“Well there’s those graves by the chapel, remember?” Laura reminded her. “Of girls who died here?”

“Yeah but they got sick or had accidents!” Helen pointed out.

“That’s what they tell us!” Laura shrugged. “Who knows? Didn’t you ever notice there’s like fifteen from when the Hamiltons were running the place themselves and only three from after they died? Seems a bit sus to me!”

“What do you want to do?” laughed Helen. “Did them up and look for teeth-marks?” Both girls giggled together. If the philanthropic explorers who founded their school had indeed practised cannibalism in the English countryside, there was no way to prove it now and little point really! The school and it’s current staff were great and that’s all that really mattered!

Twenty-four girls were admitted every year which meant that every year-group consisted of a single class who would take all their lessons together, with everyone coming together in the dining hall at meal-times. The girls slept four to a room, along with others from their own year group and, apart from in very exceptional circumstances, he girls would keep to the same bedroom for their entire time at the school, making it their home for the forty-two weeks of the year that they were there.

Laura and Helen were in their fourth year and shared the room with Charlotte and Emily. Laura had turned fifteen close to the start of the school year and Helen just after Christmas. The other two were still fourteen for another one and three months respectively. With two year-groups above them and three below, the girls all felt comfortably established at the school.

The rooms for each year-group were on their own floor of the residential wing with no particular logic as to which floor was which since whichever floor was vacated by the leaving sixth-formers became the new home of the first-years with each year-group staying put as they were promoted. There were four toilets with tiny basins on each floor and a larger basin in each bedroom but only one bath and shower room on each floor with six baths but enough shower heads for all twenty-four girls in any year to shower at the same time, set out in a communal space like at a swimming pool. This was handy as there was usually only a short amount of time to shower before breakfast or before bed, as was required, although additional showers were permitted throughout the day according to need and spare time, such as after PE lessons.

The baths were available in the evenings or any of the unstructured times outside of school lessons and meal-times but, with only six to each floor, they were strictly first come, first served.

It was a Saturday in early March and the girls were enjoying some free time before dinner where, they had been told, a very important announcement about the school’s bicentennial celebrations was to be made.

When six o’clock came around, all one hundred and forty four pupils and twenty live-in staff congregated in the dining hall. As it was Saturday, uniforms were not required so all the girls were dressed in their casual clothes but still made an effort to look near and smart.

Dinner was wonderful as always and afterwards the girls were all asked to bring their chairs to the front of the hall in front of the stage where the head mistress would address them during assembly. This was a very unusual occurrence and all the girls chattered excitedly as they carried or dragged their chairs into place.

“Good evening, girl!” Mrs Henderson spoke from the lectern on the stage. “Settle down, please!” The pupils all did as they were told and sat quietly, many of them leaning forward expectantly, eager to hear this special announcement. “As you know,” she began with an air of great satisfaction, “in one month’s time we will be celebrating the two hundredth anniversary of the founding of our school by Lord Arthur Hamilton and Lady Hamilton who served as the very first Head Mistress here.” She beamed at the pupils who made suitably admiring noises. “Of course,” she continued, “we mark this event every year but this year, since it is an extra-special occasion, we have decided to mark it in a very special way!” This provoked a lot of excited whispering between the students. “All your parents,” Mrs Henderson continued with a broad smile, clearly very happy about the news she was delivering, “will be invited to a feast to celebrate the founding of the school. But here is the most exciting part.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, as if imparting a secret to the over one hundred and sixty people she was addressing, “to make this occasion extra special, we will be recreating the great feast that Lord and Lady Hamilton enjoyed with the wonderful people who provided the funds to found the school!”

Several long seconds of stunned silence followed this surprise announcement, broken eventually when Kelly, a beautiful black girl in the fifth year who happened to be sitting near the front raised her hand.

“Yes, Kelly?” Mrs Henderson smiled.

“You mean we’re going to put on a play?” the puzzled teen asked, giving voice to the thoughts of many in the room. “About when their daughters got eaten?” She glanced over at the portrait of the three sisters as she said this.

“In a way.” Mrs Henderson smiled. “But we will really be cooking three girls and they will be the meat served at the feast!” She beamed at her pupils clearly thinking she had announced a treat for them like a second Christmas. The hall erupted into surprised and shocked chatter as the girls tried to take in what they had just heard.

“Settle down, girls!” The head mistress called again, tapping with the palm of her hand on the lectern to get their attention and restore order. “This will be a huge honour for the chosen girls,” she insisted, still smiling proudly, “a chance to become part of the school’s rich history! And of course it will be a wonderful experience for the rest of us, something that very few people ever get to experience.”

The pupils all sat silently now, listening to the explanation. Some were horrified, some were thrilled, most were a mixture of the two and all were incredibly intrigued.

“This type of feast is, of course, considered taboo,” continued Mrs Henderson, “and we understand that some of your parents may not want to attend or have you involved. We have therefore written to all of them explaining the plan and inviting them to opt you out, either of the event itself or the selection process. Those whose parents do not allow them to attend will be catered for inside, away from the event in the grounds, but we explained in the letter how important and exciting this event will be and we strongly urged them to allow you to participate in any capacity that might be appropriate.” Several hands shot up now and, guessing that they all had the same question attached, the experienced teacher selected one at random. “Claire?”

“How, umm…” A sweet blonde girl in the second year tried to form her question, finding it incredibly surreal even as she did so. “How are you going to choose who gets cooked?”

“Well we need three for the feast,” she smiled in reply, “to represent the three Hamilton sisters. We will try to pick girls who are close to the age they were when cooked so there will be one from the first or second year, one from the third or fourth and one from the fifth or sixth and they will be cooked in the same way as the equivalent daughter was.” This comment had a particular resonance for Helen and Laura who had spent the hour or so before dinner becoming intimately acquainted with ways the three Hamilton sisters had been cooked. Not only that, but they had been imagining and speculating together about how the girls must have felt when they were told they were going to cook and how they had felt on the day, stood naked in front of the hungry villagers. More than anything, however, they had pondered what being cooked might feel like and now it seemed as if one of them might find out!

“We will be inviting volunteers to put themselves forward,” Mrs Henderson informed the pupils, “but if nobody suitable comes forward, we will choose from among the rest of you. Anyone, of course,” she added, “whose parents haven’t withdrawn them from the process. The final decision will be down to Mr Miller and Miss Smithson.” These were the two extremely skilled and well-qualified cooks hired by the school to run the kitchen and were both well liked by the pupils.

There was even more chatter and giggling that evening as the girls all lined up outside the bathrooms on their respective floors dressed in nothing but their towels. Although the bathrooms were available all the time and girls were free to go and use them whenever they wanted, as long as they were not supposed to be in a lesson or at a meal at the time, at the mandated morning and evening shower times the girls had to line up on the landing to be counted in by one of the adults assigned to supervise their floor and act as surrogate parents – usually these would be a married couple and would share a small apartment on the same floor with its own private facilities. In the case of Laura and Helen’s floor, this was a sweet couple in their early sixties called Langford. Mrs Langford smiled to the girls as she opened the door and began to tick of their names on her clipboard as they passed her. Once inside, the girls hung up their towels on the hooks and found a space in the shower area. Shower gel and shampoo could be had from the dispensers on the wall and personal deodorants, perfumes and creams were kept in the girls’ own rooms.

Normally, she would leave them to it but on this occasion Mrs Langford followed them into the room and was joined after a few minutes by Miss Smithson.

“They’re checking out our meat!” Helen pointed out to Laura when she spotted the two women deep in conversation, looking over occasionally at the wet, soapy girls and occasionally pointing, although it was hard to tell who at.

“Do you think anyone’s actually going to volunteer?” Laura asked, rubbing the foamy shower gel around her firm teen boobs which were a good size for her age. Although they had all been seeing each other naked twice a day for the last three years or so, apart from when they went home for school holidays, all the girls were looking at each other a little differently today – checking out one another’s bodies as potential food and wondering what made a girl suitable for cooking. “Mrs Henderson made it sound like they might just pick people anyway if they don’t think the volunteers are right.”

“I think she just meant they’d do that if nobody in that category comes forward.” Helen frowned thoughtfully as she rubbed shampoo into her thick, red hair. “That’s how I took it anyway. Why?” She grinned. “You thinking of putting yourself forward?”

“Fuck, no!” Laura giggled.

“Aww!” Helen whined teasingly. “But your ass could feed so many!” Laura stuck out her tongue then turned and wiggled her backside her her friend. It was firm and shapely but there was no denying it was big!

“You volunteer then,” she dared the red-head, “if you’re so worried about people going hungry!”

“Maybe I was planning to anyway!” she arched one eyebrow then squirted some shower gel into her hands and began rubbing it all over her athletic young body. She and Laura were about the same height but Helen was definitely the slighter of the two with a toned but almost boyish body and perky young breasts that still did not really require a bra, although she had worn one since she was thirteen. Laura, in contrast, had needed a bra since a month or two before she turned twelve and, while far from chubby, could definitely be described as curvy. The hair between her thick thighs was dark like that on her head and kept nearly trimmed whereas Helen only had a little light tuft on her somewhat childlike vulva.

“Seriously?!” Laura stopped her soaping and asked in shock. “You’re gonna sign up to get cooked and eaten? You know it’s for real, right?”

“Hey, once in a lifetime opportunity and all that!” her friend grinned. “Although the chances of them picking me are probably pretty small when they’ve got forty seven others to choose from. There’s bound to be someone more suitable than me.” She looked quite pointedly at Laura’s ample chest. “But hey, I’ll never know unless I try, eh?” She grinned cheerfully and Laura shook her head in disbelief before chuckling.

“That’s if your parents don’t pull you out first!” she reminded her.

“Good point.” Helen began to lather between her legs, trying to be as business-like about the operation as possible but unable to deny that it felt good. “Do you think many parents will actually let their kids go through with this? I guess if too many block it then it can’t go ahead?”

“Depends how it’s pitched to them, I suppose.” Laura pondered, looking around at the twenty two other naked, soapy girls, most of whom were giggling and chattering in pairs or trios while they washed, just as she and Helen were. It was too noisy really to pick out any individual conversations but she was pretty sure she could guess the most common topic. “Isn’t human flesh supposed to be basically like pork? Might that mean that the Muslim or Jewish girls can’t have any?”

“True!” Helen nodded. “Wonder if that means they’re not allowed to be the piggy either? Oh and Priya’s vegetarian!” She looked over at the lovely Hindu girl with her warm brown skin and long, thick black hair which hung almost to her shapely bottom as she washed it. “I guess that’s her out too?”

“We’ll just have to see, I guess.” Laura shrugged. “Think three girls is going to be enough food for so many people? How much meat do you get from a human anyway?” She wondered out loud.

“I was wondering that.” Helen agreed. “Maybe if they get enough volunteers they’ll cook more than three? Or maybe the girls at the feast are just supposed to be like wedding cake?” Laura looked a little puzzled. “You know?” Helen explained. “Like, everyone gets a little piece so they can say they all shared it in, as part of the ritual, but that’s not what people are expected to fill up on. Maybe there’ll be lots of food and everyone just gets a little piece of girl to be symbolic?”

“Maybe.” Laura nodded. “You know, I don’t like the way Miss Smithson keeps looking over. I’m sure she’s looking at me!”

“I told you she’d want to roast your ass!” Helen teased. “Aww!” She put on a pouty face. “She’s gonna be so sad if you don’t volunteer!”

“Well if you really are then maybe I…” She paused and reflected for a moment. “I’ll think about it.”

Sunday came and went with nothing more being said officially about the feast, although of course there was a lot of chatter among the girls and all the copies of the journal Laura had been reading were quickly taken out of the library. Friends passed them to each other and groups of girls could be found around the building and grounds all pouring over it together. Personal mobile phones were not allowed in the school but some of the girls did receive calls on the various landlines available to them, set to allow incoming calls only, from their parents asking how they felt about the plans and whether or not they wanted them to invoke the opt-out they’d been given.

When Monday morning arrived, the girls were surprised to find a sign-up sheet on the notice board of each landing. By the time Helen and Laura went to look on their way to their morning shower there were already four names on it – Beth, Priya, Naomi and Claire. Helen grinned as she added her name to the list then, to her friend’s shock, wrote Laura’s underneath.

“What the fuck?” Laura half yelled, half laughed. “What are you doing? I said I’d think about it!”

“You’ve had two whole nights and a day in between!” Helen reminded her cheekily. “Just giving you a little nudge, that’s all.” She held the pen out challengingly to the blushing brunette. “Here. Scribble it out if you want, nobody’s seen it yet.” Laura reached for the pen then stopped herself, surprised at how thrilling she was actually finding the idea. “That’s what I thought!” Helen grinned somewhat triumphantly as her friend lowered her arm.

“There’s lots of names and they only want one, right?” Laura reasoned, as much to herself as to Helen. “And they’re picking from the fifth year too. What are the chances of actually getting chosen?”

“With your tits and ass?” Helen teased. “Come on! Let’s go get them nice and clean in case Mr Miller wants to inspect all the volunteers later!” Laura blushed even deeper, realising that her friend was right and the head mistress had said it would be down to both school chefs to select the meat. Still, if she did end up on the menu she’d be naked in front of everyone including parents and siblings of the other girls so maybe letting Mr Miller see her body wasn’t really so terrible. He was a professional after all and would be looking at her as meat. Didn’t that make him a bit like a doctor? She hoped so.

That evening, after their lessons, Laura asked Mrs Langford if she knew what the feedback from the parents had been.

“Off the record,” the sweet lady smiled, “from what I’ve heard, seventeen pupils have been excluded from taking part in any capacity, thirty four are allowed to attend the feast but can’t be chosen for the menu.”

“That doesn’t sound very fair somehow!” Laura frowned, interrupting.

“I know what you mean!” Mrs Langford chuckled. “But on the other hand, there’s eight who we’ve been told can’t attend the feast but can be cooked if they’re chosen!”

“Wow!” laughed Laura. “I guess that’s pretty open-minded! Do you know when they’re going to decide?”

“The lists will stay up another day or two, I think.” The older lady explained. Already there were three more names on the list on their floor and Laura was sure that a few more girls were likely mulling it over before signing their names. “Then there will be a sort of inspection in the kitchen. Did I see your name on the list by the way?”

“Yes.” Laura blushed again. “Helen actually wrote it up but I didn’t take it off.”

“Well we could certainly do a lot worse!” the kindly older woman smiled at the girl.

Over the next two days, Laura finished the library booked and passed it onto another of the girls who was waiting for a copy. On Thursday morning, while the girls were showering, the Head Mistress came into the room with a clipboard.

“Attention please, girls!” She called. Surprised at the interruption, the naked, soapy teens stopped their chatter and washing and turned to look. Some covered themselves with their arms and hands but most did not bother. The communal showering took a bit of getting used to for some of the girls when they joined the first year, with the mandatory sessions marked with much shyness and awkwardness, but by the fourth year as these girls were, they had long ago lost any inhibition. Of course, being naked in the kitchen or outside in the school’s beautiful grounds was another matter but showering together and being watched by female staff as they did so was quite normal.

“If I read out your name, after breakfast I shall expect to see you in the corridor outside the kitchen. Leave your clothes in your rooms and come in your towels.” She read out a list of names, including Laura and Helen. It was, of course, the list of girls who had signed the sheet offering themselves as meat. There were thirteen names in total – just over half the girls in the year-group! “I’m very pleased that so many of you are willing to help make this celebration special! The rest of you, go to your classes as normal. Perhaps some of you would be good enough to make notes for your friends who will not be there?”

“Do we get dressed before breakfast?” asked Beth, a petite blonde with cute little titties and a fully shaved cunt who had been the first to sign up. “And take our clothes off afterwards?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Mrs Henderson smiled. “Just your towels will suffice for modesty while you eat I am sure. The cooks are busy people and we don’t want to take up more of their time than necessary. Plus it would just mean more lesson time missed with more to catch up on for you so no, just come down in your towels. I promise you the heating has been on for a couple of hours.”

Laura felt incredibly self-concious going down to breakfast in next to nothing but Helen seemed to be revelling in it! She relaxed quite a bit, however, when she realised just how many other girls were in the same state of undress. It seemed that roughly half the school had signed up which not only meant that she did not stand out being dressed only in her white towel as she sat and ate her breakfast, it also reduced her chances of being chosen which, she was a little surprised to find, felt like a relief in one way but quite a disappointment in another. Did she really want to be impaled on a spit and roasted naked in front of all her schoolmates and their parents? Then eaten by them? She didn’t think she did yet imagining watching another girl in that position gave her a quite powerful pang of jealousy.

As the breakfast things were cleared away and the girls who were in uniform prepared to go to their classes, trays with small glasses of sweet white wine were brought around and offered to the girls in towels.

“To help you relax.” Laura was told as she took one. The girls were allowed one glass of wine on special occasions at the school and she had enjoyed some at home before with her parents but never so early in the morning! It made her feel warm inside and a little giggly, which was probably the intent.

Soon Laura, Helen and all the other volunteer girls, from the first year up to the sixth in no particular order, lined up in the corridor outside the kitchen. Seventy eight of them in total, lined up in pairs with friends, snaking down the corridor. Laura had more or less got used to walking around in just a towel and was starting to relax but this changed when the door opened and Miss Smithson announced that she would be collecting the towels as they went in! And so the stark naked young girls filed into the kitchen, some strutting proudly, others covering themselves as best they could with their arms and most simply blushing and looking a little sheepish. Mrs Henderson was waiting for them in the large kitchen along with Mr Miller and all the residential house-parents, male and female.

Laura noticed that three large chalk circles had been drawn on the vintage tiles of the floor and their purpose soon became apparent as the girls were asked to group themselves by age ready to be inspected. At first there was a lot of giggling and chatter but they were quickly told to quieten down.

“As you all probably know,” Mr Miller began in a friendly tone once all the girls were in their correct group, “the Hamilton sisters were cooked in three different ways and that is what we are going to recreate. One of you,” he addressed the younger group with their mostly bald, plump pussies and cute little budding titties, “will boil in a stew, one of you,” he turned to the middle group which included Laura and Helen along with many other girls from their year and the one above, “will roast on a spit and one of you,” he addressed the final group of mostly fully-grown young women, “will be set out as a living buffet. Any questions so far?”bLaura’s hand was up before she even really realised what she was doing, as if her body had thought of the question before her brain. “Yes?” The chef turned to her and smiled, welcoming the interaction.

“What about the maid?” she asked, surprising herself with her confident tone.

“What do you mean?” Mrs Henderson asked.

“Well,” Laura explained, “I was reading Lord Hamilton’s journal and it said that they gave the village their maid to eat to establish trust and friendship. So, surely she was just as big a part of the founding of the school as the sisters? Shouldn’t she be represented too?”

“A very good point!” Mrs Henderson agreed and all the other adults were seen the nod and exchanged looks with each other. “That is something we will certainly look into! But for this morning, we are focussing on the girls who will represent the three sisters.” Now Helen’s hand was up. “Helen?” Mrs Henderson turned to her. “You have a question too?”

“Yes, Miss.” Helen replied politely. “I was just thinking that three girls isn’t going to be enough for so many people. There were only about fifty people in that village and they ate the girls all up! Since there’s so many of us who are up for it,” she waved her arm expansively to gesture to all her fellow volunteers, “wouldn’t it make more sense to cook two or even three girls each way? Or more? That way there will be plenty to go around and we’d still be honouring the sisters by recreating their cooking methods?”

Now it was Mr Miller and Mrs Henderson who exchanged meaningful looks.

“I must admit the idea had crossed our minds.” He admitted. “A lot of it will come down to how these inspections go and how many of you we deem suitable for each cooking method. But,” he smiled, “it’s good to know that you’re keen!” Helen giggled as did several of the other girls but more, including Laura, blushed very deeply.

The two cooks divided the work of assessing the potential meat. The group of that Helen and Laura were in was by far the largest so, while Miss Smithson began to inspect the younger girls, looking them over then feeling various parts of their bodies, Mr Miller called the first of the teens forward. The two friends watched in excited fascination as the first girl, who happened to be Priya, was inspected.

“So she can’t eat meat but she can be it?” Helen whispered to Laura. “Makes sense I suppose!”

“Yeah it’s just a pity about her parents.” Laura replied, a little distracted as she watched the chef cupping the pretty Indian girl’s breasts, squeezing slightly and weighing them in his hands, knowing that it would be her turn soon. Having satisfied himself about the standard of her breast meat, he felt her upper arms then asked her to turn around, feeling first her shoulders then her quite delectable rump.

“What do you mean?” asked Helen, equally fascinated. All around them, groups of friends were engaged in low-whispered excited conversation.

“Well if she gets picked, they’re not going to be able to try any, right?” Laura explained. “If they’re vegetarians?”

“Maybe they’d make an exception?” Helen shrugged. “Oh wow!” Priya was facing Mr Miller again with her mouth open, allowing him to examine her teeth. He said something to her the friends could not hear and she nodded then he slipped two fingers inside her clearly moist cunt and squeezed with his thumb from the outside. Apparently satisfied, he pulled them out again and wiped them on his apron then nodded. He made some notes on a clip-board as Priya thanked him and collected a towel from the table where they’d been piled up then left, along with the first of the younger girls who had been equally thoroughly inspected.

Miss Smithson had finished with the youngsters and had just made a start with the oldest girls by the time Helen was called forward. By that time, having seen so many other girls inspected by the dispassionate chef, she knew exactly what to expect so stepped forward constantly and stood with her shoulders back, presenting her modest breasts for inspection. Although she had explored that area fairly thoroughly with her own fingers over recent years, she was still surprised by the feeling of having two adult male fingers pushed up inside her virgin cunt. She gasped a little and her green eyes grew wide but the chef made no comment, just wiping his hand on his apron as he had with all the others and telling her she could go.

Unlike most of the others, however, Helen did not leave the room immediately but rather lingered by the door to watch Laura, who was up next, receive her inspection. It felt to Laura as if he took a little longer over her breasts than he had with most other girls, weighing and squeezing them, feeling them quite thoughtfully all over. But then, she reasoned, she had more in the way of breast meat to inspect than most of the other girls, from her category at least. He felt her arms and belly then asked her to turn around. She did as she was told and, while he gave her shoulders, back, rump and thighs a very thorough going over, she looked at the handful of girls within her circle who were still waiting. Out of the six who looked back at her, smiling and giving encouraging hand-gestures, she noticed that four had completely shaved pussies.

She wondered if they had done it ready for this inspection and all of a sudden felt a little self-conscious about her dark bush. But perhaps it was just what they preferred? None of them were girls she had ever showered with and, while they did sometimes all skinny-dip in the lake in the grounds on especially hot weekend days or sunbathe nude in the parts that could not be easily seen from the school windows, those weren’t generally times when the girls got a good look at each other. She was pretty sure, out of her twenty-four floor-mates only two liked to shave completely like that with most either favouring neat trimming like herself or, like Helen, not having enough yet to worry about. But maybe it was more common than she realised? Either way, she knew she would need to shave that part if she was selected, or have it done for her. After all, she thought with a slight smile turning her lips up at the corners, nobody likes hair in their food!

With her backside extensively squeezed and prodded, she turned back around to face Mr Miller who simply asked if she was ready, not feeling the need to explain what was coming, before slipping his fingers up inside her. She was surprised how far up they went but also how good it felt having them inside her! With his thumb on the outside, he squeezed, clearly wanting to see how thick the meat of her vulva was. He then withdrew his fingers and quickly squeezed her cunt lips together before wiping his fingers and dismissing her. Knowing that she must be blushing very deeply indeed, she grabbed a towel from the table, quickly wrapped it around herself then went to join Helen.

“So what do you think?” Helen giggled, clutching her towel as the pair scampered back upstairs to their room to get dressed in their smart school uniforms. “Are we getting roast Laura for dinner?”

“He did seem to take a liking to my tits!” Laura giggled. “Don’t know if that means he thinks they’d be good eating or he was just treating himself to a good time!”

“Well can you blame him either way?” Helen teased. “Anyway, I thought you didn’t want to get picked!”

“I don’t!” Laura protested although not quite as confidently as she’d thought she might. Was the idea of being cooked and eaten really starting to grow on her? “It’s just nice to be admired! What about you? Think he thought there’d be enough meat on you to be worth bothering with?”

“Hey!” Helen stuck out her tongue. “I got enough where it counts and anyway, quality over quantity!”

“Speaking of quantity,” Laura raised an eyebrow as they reached the bedroom and found Emily, who had been among the volunteers, buttoning up her blouse, “what was that stunt of yours about suggesting needing more meat? You trying to increase your chances?”

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do!” Helen laughed. “Anyway, you’re the one who suggested a whole new category!”

“Yeah but that’s for an adult!” Laura reminded her. “Maybe one of the teachers or something?” She turned to smile at Emily who had sat down on the edge of her bed to pull on her socks. “How did your inspection go?” She asked. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah it was fun!” Emily giggled. “Felt kinda… daring, y’know?” She grinned. “Being felt up like that! I don’t think I’ve got much chance of being picked, not with these.” She glanced down at her chest. If Helen’s still-growing breasts were petite then Emily’s were practically non-existent – there were first year girls who were bustier than her and, with her blouse on, it was difficult to see she had any at all. “But still, fun to try out, don’t you think?”