Cho was nervous. Hermione wasn't here yet. The Asian girl had spent all night thinking about what was about to happen to her, and she still wasn't sire how to handle it. She'd woken up with her sheets damp between her legs from arousal, but her heart was anxiously racing like a Seeker after the Snitch. Was she really going to do this? Did she have a choice?

Harry wouldn't force her, she was almost certain of that, but... would Hermione? And... if they didn't... should they?

Hermione was right, no one had forced Cho to list herself in that catalogue. She'd thought it was fun at the time, that there was hardly any risk, but she'd been deluding herself even then. The risk was real, she knew that. The risk was what sent her stomach tumbling into knots, it was what had made the idea so hot in the first place. Risk that she'd be bought, risk that her secret would get out. She'd known that, and she'd done it anyway. She'd gambled and she'd lost. Was it right to try and deprive her new owners of their winnings? Cho didn't know.

She thought back to Hermione's declaration; maybe was just a stupid little slut who deserved to be punished, just like Hermione said. Maybe she was just a disobedient meat girl who needed to be cooked?

Cho wasn't sure, but part of her wanted to find out.

The morning air was brisk, even in the kitchens. She'd obeyed Hermione's orders as best she could, part of her hoping that this would be it, that Hermione would take her womb from her and leave her be having had her fill of Cho.

Part of her hoped she didn't.

Her skirt was short, and as Cho walked through the halls she'd been petrified that an errant breeze would lift it to show off her lack of panties to a another student, or even a teacher, passing by. It hadn't happened. Oh, there had been plenty of breezes, each one sending a sharp and fearful shock through Cho's entire being, but in the early morning, hours before breakfast, there'd been no one around to see. Cho wasn't quite sure why that had left her disappointed, but she was sure her mounting dread was a result of the knowledge that the halls would only grow more crowded as the day wore on, but Hermione's ban on panties would still be in effect.

Cho had left her robe behind. She'd felt... sexy, and she'd wanted to show it off for her new mistress. She'd even unbuttoned he blouse and tied it in place instead, cupping her tits with it like a makeshift bra and baring her belly to the world. The feel of the morning breeze on her stomach gave her chills. Hermione had wanted what lay beneath last night. This morning, she was going to get it. Cho shivered, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold.

Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe she was just a useless disobedient slut. Why else would she be having thoughts like these? Fantasizing about the taste of Harry's cock as she waited for her mistress to arrive so that she could cook herself for her? Well, part of herself anyway... Merlin! Why was she so hot!?

Minutes passed, then an hour. The House elves began to bustle around her, preparing a morning repast for the rest of the castle. Breakfast hadn't started yet, wouldn't for a while, but Cho was still nervous. 'Was it all a dream?' She wondered? Did she imagine being bought? Obeying Hermione's orders? No. It couldn't have been. She remembered the coins on her bedside table. She'd been bought. It was real.

It certainly felt like a dream though...

Cho was getting antsy. Where was Hermione? Did she mishear her? Was she in the wrong place?

Just as Cho was screwing up her courage to head to the Gryffindor Common room to find her mistress, the entry to the kitchen opened.

Hermione stood, silhouetted in the entrance, her smooth, brown hair flashing with hints of red in the early morning light. She looked calm, and disciplined, but the smile on her face evoked a child with a new toy that they wanted to play with, and not an exceptionally careful child either. Cho swallowed heavily. Hermione looked like she was going to break her.

"Good morning, meat," Cho felt her privates flutter in anticipation at her mistress' greeting. "I hope you didn't wait too long. I was wrapped up in a nice book and didn't want to leave before I finished it."

A book? It wasn't surprising, but... wasn't she more important than a book? Cho wasn't sure. Against her will, Cho's imagination ran wild, painting a portrait of Hermione, trading her away for a first edition copy of 'Hogwarts, a History'. She could believe it. At 20 galleons, she certainly cost less than some first editions... And, Hermione didn't seem to value her as anything other than a novelty, a source of pleasure and fresh ingredients, Cho realized. No, she wasn't more important than a book, not to Hermione.

Her sex practically lit on fire at the thought.

She blushed as Hermione looked her over, sizing her up from head to toe. Her eyes felt heavy, assessing her for the purpose Hermione had in mind. Cho was certain that the brunette was judging how she planned to snuff her.

"Lift your skirt," Hermione commanded matter-of-factly.

Cho swallowed and obeyed. She was completely smooth, having cast a spell for the purpose the night before. Hermione hadn't asked her to, she just did it. She'd, she'd wanted to look good for this. Her lower lips met in a slight camel-toe, her inner labia poking cutely out from between them.

Cho held her skirt up, baring her privates to her new mistress for what felt like an eternity before Hermione made any move to end her scrutiny. 'She wanted to make her squirm,' Cho realized. 'Or maybe, she just wanted to see if she'd obey?' Cho wasn't sure.

The Asian girl thought of what Hermione had said to her the night before, 'the perfect obedient little oriental stereotype of a woman,' she'd called her. Cho had disagreed. She wasn't, it was true... but, she wanted to be. Part of her, at least. Part of her wanted to be the perfect little submissive Asian that boys had always assumed she was, she wanted to be the sort of girl who would cheerfully serve her mistress her own womb if told to. That's why she was here, it's why she stayed when Hermione was late. Harry and Hermione had bought her, so they could cook her if they wanted to and no one would stop them, no one on the faculty anyway. But, she didn't have to help them like this. She didn't have to obey...

Cho wanted to. Part of her wanted to submit like this, tho serve Hermione, to let her use her, to let her eat her! Merlin! What was wrong with her!?

"Good," Hermione spoke, breaking the silence. "You look ready." Hermione paused. "Good job preparing yourself. No one wants hair in their food," she added with a lustful look at Cho's bared cunt. "Keep it that way."

Cho's breath was speeding up unconsciously. This was... She'd thought about it, but it wasn't something she'd really prepared for.

Hermione looked straight at her, as if she were a particularly slow chimpanzee. "Well, what are you waiting for? Drop the skirt and grab a knife."

Cho shivered. This was real wasn't it? Hermione expected her to go through with this. As sexily as she could manage, Cho shimmied out of her skirt, letting it drop to the floor at her feet and leaving her naked from the tops of her knee-high socks to just below the bow she'd tied in her blouse beneath her breasts. She blushed. She felt... exposed, like this. Vulnerable. And for good reason! Why was she going along with this? Cho couldn't explain it, even to herself, but something about the commanding way Hermione ordered her about sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She grabbed a knife and followed Hermione deeper into the kitchen.

"Did you find a good recipe last night like I ordered you to?" Hermione asked as they walked. Curiosity weighed heavily in her voice, as if she truly only wanted to know if Cho had followed her instructions or not.

Cho blushed, remembering last night's excursion, paging through recipe books in the library looking for the perfect recipe to cook... herself. Fantasizing about it, imagining every last detail of the instructions in the book being done to her, by her! It hadn't been long before her fingers had sought her uncovered snatch to begin exploring. She remembered the heart-pounding fear that someone might find her, masturbating to old recipes; the terror that they might ask her why and that she would tell them. She remembered the swelling anxiety in her chest when she realized that she'd found the perfect recipe, the way her stomach dropped when she realized she'd be using it today... She remembered the way her heart leapt into her throat when she heard Madam Pince behind her telling her that it was time to go, her fingers had still been sticky from the aftermath of her ministrations, her skirt was unkempt and showing far too much leg, but hopefully not, Cho begged to anyone what might listen, the fact that she had foregone panties at her mistress' request.

The terror of the librarian walking in on her like that had stayed with her all the way to her dorm, engraving the recipe on her minds eye in the terrifying aftermath of the event.

“I... I did,” Cho replied, Hermione wouldn't care about her adventure, she convinced herself, she just wanted to know if her breakfast would be on time.

“Good,” Hermione stated. “Are you able to follow it by yourself? or... do you need my help?” Hermione asked, and Cho couldn't quite tease out the emotion underpinning her words. Hope? Irritation? She wasn't sure.

Cho was sure about one thing however, “I can do it myself,” she replied.

She'd fantasized about this moment all night. She'd even thought up changes and additions to make the recipe more entertaining for her mistress. That's what she had told Cho was her most valuable quality yesterday, entertainment, and a twisted, lustful part of the Chinese student wanted to make sure that her mistress got her money's worth out of her.

Cho lifted the knife as she stepped up to the sink. Was she really going to do this? No one was forcing her to go through with it. 'Yet,' Cho's traitorous brain responded, causing her pussy to clench in anticipation. She was about to ruin her future, and end her family line with her... just to serve a pair of underclassmen a delicious breakfast? Was it worth it? But... they'd bought her hadn't they? No one had forced her to pose for the catalog, she'd put herself up for sale and they'd bought her. They'd paid and everything. Was it right to deprive them of their prize?

“Well?” Hermione asked, prompting Cho to act.

“You're going to heal me after this, right?” Cho asked, as she searched for a decision. They'd bought her, and she knew they planned to snuff her, but... Cho wasn't sure she was ready to die just yet.

“Of course I will,” Hermione smiled lustfully. “I have plans for the rest of you, and I have no intention of wasting food...”

Hermione's response sent a shiver down Cho's spine, and a flood of arousal straight to her slutty young cunt.

It was what she'd needed to hear, if not how she wanted to hear it. She was food, Hermione had reminded her, but she wasn't going to die today.

The taller girl closed her eyes, wincing as she drew the wickedly sharp knife across her pubic mound, not too hard, she didn't want to destroy her mistress' breakfast after all, but with enough pressure to slice through her skin and expose what lay beneath to the world.

Absently, Cho heard Hermione whisper a spell to stop the bleeding as she herself reached for the faucet and adjusted the water until it was hot, just barely on the edge of scalding.

“You're doing fine,” Hermione encouraged her toy, stroking her hair as she watched Cho reach inside the cut and pull out her own womb, still attached to her body.

Cho flinched as the almost scalding water hit her reproductive tract. Her womb had never experienced anything like the heavy surge of water that hit it as Cho rubbed it clean with her fingers. The temperature was excruciating, tearing tears from Cho's eyes every second that it touched her no longer innermost treasure, but Cho persevered. This was necessary. She tried to focus on Hermione's fingers as they trailed through her straight black tresses, tried to focus on her words of praise, telling her how good a meatgirl she was, but Cho couldn't quite shut out the pain. Finally, once the sensation became too unbearable, Cho pulled away, freeing her ovaries and womb from the torment of the flowing water.

“I'm proud of you, meat,” Hermione declared, squeezing Cho's shoulder to reassure her, and despite knowing Hermione's motives for the praise, the Asian girl found herself feeling better.

Cho stood there for a few seconds, panting, Hermione's hand roaming up and down her body, cupping her shoulders, tracing her arm, fondling her breast... Cho could feel herself responding, primally, to her owner's touches. She even missed it when Hermione altered the chair next to the wok she'd set up earlier in preparation, to be taller, putting the incision that Cho had carved in her pubic mound just above the edges of the specialized pan.

“Are you ready for the next bit?” Hermione asked? And though Cho couldn't see the brunette's face, she thought she heard compassion in her voice.

“Yes...” Cho paused, “Mistress.”

“Good,” Hermione practically grinned. “I'm glad to hear that.”

Cho walked, unsteadily towards the chair her mistress had transfigured for her, still holding her exposed reproductive system in one hand. She winced as every movement caused her to tug, ever so slightly, on her treasure, practically yanking her privates from the inside out. It was uncomfortable, no, more than that, it ached, painfully, but Cho soldiered on, climbing into the chair and staring at the wok in front of her.

She could feel the head radiating from it, bathing the underside if her breasts in its warmth. It was sizzling, the oil inside popping from the heat. Cho felt like she was on the edge of a precipice. She could only imagine the sort of pain awaiting her if she wents through with this, if she dropped her womb into the sizzling wok below.

Cho felt trapped; caught between a tlrock and a hard place. Behind her was her mistress, the younger girl who now owned her, the girl at whose demand she'd carved her self open to pull out her womb; but in front of her? In front of her was the wok, oil splattering around the bottom as it sputtered before her waiting for her to drop in her still-connected womb. Cho feared them both. The wok for what it woukd do to her and Hermione... she feared Hermione for what her mistress could make her do.

Hermione watched as Cho stood paralyzed with trepedation.

"Well?" She asked her Asian meat-slave. "You need to start frying now if you want Harry and I to have that tasty-looking womb if yours for breakfast."

Without thinking, Cho dropped her womb into the wok.

"AAAAAAuuuHhhhGggRrRRrHhH!!!" The noise that escaped Cho's throat as her wom hit the boiling oil bore no relation whatsoever to speech. It was a primal cry of fear and pain as she started to cook, the oil coating her in places that weren't meant to be touched. It felt like the heat was raping her, forcing itself into the deepest reaxhes of her womb as it sizzled painfully in the wok. Cho's womb was the whole of her being, the pain her only companion until-

Hermione stepped forward, grabbing Cho's shaking shoulders and gently kneading them, massaging the older girl asshe whispeeed encouragement into her ear.

"That's it," Hermione urged. "I'm proud of you, Meat. I know just how hard it must have been to accept your purpose like this," Hermione consoled the tense girl frying her womb for her. "I'm proud of you. This is what you were made for, meat. You're going to be so delicious. All your friends are going to watch us eating you, and they're going to be so jealous meat..."

Cho knew what Hermione was doingn she was conditioning her, rewarding her for obedience to make it more likely she'd obey in the future. Cho noticed how she didn't use her name, how she called her 'Meat', but... it really was nice, the way her mistress was massaging her shoulders. Her voice was so soothing and Cho could concentrate on it and try and forget about the pain (not that shecould ever forget about the painn but ahe could try). If she just concentrated on what Hermione was saying she could distract herself, and it was just so nice that Cho wanted to believe it. The part of her that signed up for the catalog, knowing she could be chosen, that part of her already believed, and now the rest of her wanted to believe too. There was a reason for her suffering, a purpose! She was meat. That's why she needed to cook, that's what meat did.

And the more that Cho started to accept that fact, the more bearable the pain grew, until Cho realized that she was getting wet from the words Hermione was whispering in her ear, and that cooking like this for Hermione... it was turning her on.

Hermione watched wide-eyed over Cho's shoulder as the older girl fryed her womb for her. It was amazing, just how submissive these wanton little snuff-sluts were! Hermione had hardly needed to encourage Cho and for all her pleading that she didn't want to cook yesterday, here she was slicing herself open so that she could stirfry her innermost privates for Hermione, and Harry, to enjoy. Hermione hadn't even needed to spank the taller meatgirl to get her to comply, she'd just told her to fry for her and now, here she was, doing it! It was the hottest thing Hermione had ever seen.

Cho couldn't help but notice as Hetmione's hand fell from her shoulder and traced a path down the small of her back and over the ample curve of her rump to nestle its way between her thighs. Feebly, not wanting to disturb her frying womb, Cho bucked at Hermine's fingers, trying to slip them inside her from where they carefully traced the outlines of her mons.

"Ah, ah, ah," Hermione chided. "Only good little dishes get rewarded, and you still have a lot to do before you finish cooking our breakfast, don't you, Meat?"

She did, Cho realized, desperately craving the distraction that her mistress' fingers could provide her from the pain, the release she could attain from the feelings welling up inside her! But, Hermione was right. Just because her womb was frying didn't mean she was done cooking it; and it would be a shame to waste it when she knew her meat could be every bit as delicious as her mistress had promised her.