Chapter 5: Epilogue

I don't accept any new dates for a while, out of fear of winding up in a restaurant bathroom for forever again, and I get a new job wrapping and labeling meat for the grocery store. Every package needs a picture of everyone that's in it. That's usually one person, when it's a steak or two, or a whole thigh, but it sometimes can be more, like in a package of nine dicks. Then of course is the weight of the meat, the price per pound, the total price, and not having the labels actually obscure seeing the meat well. It's an easy enough job though.

My birthday comes, and I pan-fry Annette's cunt, to eat it one final time. The days become routine, there are more kids, and before I know it, Janet's turning eighteen, ready to be driven to the same facility I trained to be a server at. By this point, I've worked my way up to being one of the top butchers for this grocery store, only the lead butcher being above me and having other butchers that follow my orders. Annette's family moved out at some point, and I've had to sell a few of my kids to my job, and I've chosen to cook a few of them here and there.

We do fairly well, still eating shit, but having some meat with it for almost every meal. For Janet's eighteenth birthday, we roast a whole thigh I bought from work for a small party. As I drive her to the facility, I realize that she's my last child left. I'm only one month pregnant. Maybe I'll keep this one instead of eating it. Before letting her go inside, I park and get one last orgasm from her mouth before giving her a passionate kiss and telling her what a good server she's going to be. Once she's inside, I drive home.

I find out later that she's assigned to a fancier restaurant, which increases her chances of getting snuffed, so that's good. Even later, I find out that she was snuffed five months into her service. The customer decided to butcher her while she was still alive, carefully cutting off small cuts of meat to keep her alive for as long as possible. It sounds like an excruciatingly painful way to go. That's lucky for her! The customer only ordered a steak from her thigh, so the rest of her is being sold as separate dishes in the restaurant. I'm sure her parts will be expertly cooked and taste great. I'm proud of her.

This leaves me in an uncomfortable position though. I have no parents, siblings, kids, spouses, or Masters. I have aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and cousins, but ownership doesn't go to them. That means that I own myself. I can't let anyone know this, as owning oneself is very taboo and shows a lack of foresight. I don't bring up Janet's death at work, and I otherwise just stay home for the next month. At that point, I give birth to Patrick. He can't comprehend this fact, but as my oldest living offspring, this infant owns me as much as I own him. My thirtieth birthday is in a few months, so he has until his tenth birthday to snuff me. It's rare that someone that young will snuff their own parent, so I'm really not sure what I'm going to do. I'm in a fairly unusual situation. Hopefully I find someone to marry who'll snuff me or something.

I continue to raise him. I become the lead butcher at my job. I do eventually go on a few dates again, but I don't manage to find anyone who's up for marriage. I have more kids, eventually with Patrick once he's old enough to be capable of it, the first of which I have him snuff and cook the day it comes out, as per tradition. He has a hard time making his first kill, which doesn't really bode well for me. Throughout his life, I keep talking about him killing and eating me for his tenth birthday. I talk about how important it is. It's only a few months before my fortieth, and reaching the age of forty would make me a complete failure as meat. To desensitize him, I have him kill all of his siblings as they're born, which includes most of his offspring. I also buy him games and show him movies specifically that have matricide in them. I want him to fully understand how natural it is to kill his mother so he can take my life while my meat's still good.

He's had a few kids with his teachers and schoolmates. Sex ed is one of his best classes, giving him an 'A' every quarter. Killing me will therefore not leave him ownerless, but he'd be owned by a baby, and since a ten year old boy will also need someone to take care of him, I arrange sale of him to a man who's looking to own a boy, effective the day after his tenth birthday. That will be my final gift to him. Finally, the day comes. Little Patrick has the knife to kill me with, but he doesn't. He can't bring himself to end my life. He's just too young to understand.

The next day, his new Master comes to take him. Before Patrick leaves, I explain to him that George is his new owner, and that I can't come with him unless George buys me too, which he can't do without Patrick's permission. I also tell him that I sold him because I thought that I would be dead and that he'd need someone to take care of him. I get a call from George a few weeks later saying that his new slave just sold me to him. He likes the idea of owning a mother-son pair.

This excites me. If I'm owned, my owner will surely snuff me before I reach forty. This is my forty-second pregnancy. I should be dead within the next few months. I won't be giving birth again, since I'm currently due a couple weeks after my birthday.

George plans to cook us together, as mother and son. We serve him well for the next few months. Just three weeks before the day, George has a stroke and dies. He was only twenty-six. His family makes a nice meal of him, but Patrick and I own each other again. He has no intention to kill or sell me. Being owned by Patrick is making my death more difficult. I decide to sell him to my job and butcher him so I have the possibility of at least selling myself.

No longer owned, and with two weeks until I'm no longer fit for human consumption, I'm desperate. I can't sell myself to the grocery store that I work at, due to contract restrictions, so I go to a nearby butcher. He's reluctant to buy someone that owns themselves, as that's a bit taboo, so I offer him what money and possessions I have. It's not enough and he refuses. I repeat this at other butchers and am repeatedly denied.

By midnight on the night of my fortieth birthday, as I cease to be fit for human consumption, I sit curled up in my living room crying. I can't be eaten. I think back to everyone in my life who I've seen die... Patrick, Zack, Cindy, Jake, George, Annette, Joe, Theresa... Theresa... Theresa wasn't eaten by humans. She was made into pet food. That's not nearly as good, but it's better than being alive passed forty. I'm not fit for human consumption, but I could still be eaten by animals. At the time, I felt bad for Theresa, being pet food instead of food for humans, but now I envy her.

When the local pet food canning factory opens the next day, I'm waiting at the door. As the worker comes to unlock it, I explain "Today's my fortieth birthday and I own myself."

The worker nods as he unlocks the door. "I'll start the grinder for you first thing. There are a couple of forms just inside."

After filling out the forms, the worker motions me to the grinder. I'm ready to dive in when he tells me to wait. He says to get on my hands and knees, like one of the dogs that will be eating me. I do so and he starts fucking my ass. He grips my legs tight as he pushes me forward. The grinder rips my arms clean off. I'm gushing blood and the worker is still fucking me. My face gets closer and closer to the grinder and the last thing I feel is the gears crushing my skull through my squishy brain. I'm happy to finally be food.