Pt 2

“Crap! Time passes when you’re enjoying yourself, huh?” Karl chuckled as the doorbell rang. The clock beside the bed informed him that the time was 11:03.

“Guess you’d better go answer the door!” Becky tickled his hairy chest with one hand while massaging his manhood with her other. Since she had pushed her dad into popping her ten year old cherry, the loving father and daughter had made love four times. Karl felt as if he was nineteen again with an almost unquenchable sexual appetite – the knowledge that his young daughter-come-lover would be roasted and eaten in a matter of hours seemed to imbue him with a vigour he had not experienced since the first weeks of his relationship with her mother.

Leaving his young daughter naked and contented in the bed, Karl pushed open the window and called down to the waiting delivery driver below that he would be down in a few moments. After a hasty rummage through the laundry hamper in the corner of his room he pulled on a pair of jeans, going commando underneath due to his hurry, and a shirt that did not stink too badly and, in bare feet, ran down the stairs to answer the door.

As expected, the man at the door was from the hire company, delivering the spit that Becky had booked a few days earlier using her dad’s credit card, hoping that he wouldn’t notice and spoil the surprise. Fortunately, he had not. That had been the simple part. The bigger challenge had been working out which of his friends to invite and to let them know about the party without accidentally letting the cat out of the bag. She had been open with the invitees about her plans and swore them all to secrecy. She couldn’t help but wonder how many were coming out of genuine affection for her dad, how many were coming for the food and how many just wanted to see her naked? From the tone of the messages a few had sent when she’d invited them via an IM app on her phone, she was pretty sure that was a significant draw! Not that she cared – Becky was proud of her body and what she planned to do with it later that day, not to mention the things she and he dad had already done! What difference did it make to her if some of her dad’s mates were more interested in how she looked than how she tasted?

“Fine piece of kit you’ve got here!” the short, friendly-looking man observed as he helped Karl wheel the easily-portable device down the side passage into the back garden. “Cooked my eldest on one of these last summer!”

“Oh, nice!” Karl replied politely, not entirely sure of the etiquette for following such a revelation. “Um, how was she?”

“Came out perfect!” the delivery man grinned.

“Do you have a big family?” Karl asked, somewhat clutching at straws.

“Has seven daughters in my time,” the man chuckled, “got two left now. Got to eat three of them myself, well,” he chuckled again, “bits of them anyway? What’s that old joke about loving kids but couldn’t eat a whole one?” Karl laughed too. This man was very likeable and somehow, hearing him talk about cooking and eating his daughters normalised the idea for him and made him feel more relaxed about the plans for the afternoon. “Done the little one in the oven.” the man explained conversationally, “For Christmas, like. Then there were one that went to the butcher and came back in joints for the freezer. She lasted best part of a year in all!”

“What about the two you didn’t get to try?” Karl asked, finding himself genuinely curious.

“One volunteered on Guide camp,” the man explained, “so her friends got to enjoy her. Did get her skull back, mind. It’s in the garden now, on the rockery. Makes a nice talking point when friends come over.” This struck Karl as an interesting point – the news of the birthday celebrations planned for him had come as such a whirlwind he hadn’t really thought about afterwards! Would have have some sort of funeral for Becky? Bury her remains in the back garden or just have them disposed of like any other food waste? The idea of keeping her skull did intrigue him!

“Other one won a competition in some teen magazine!” The delivery man laughed again. “Her and four or five others got to go see their favourite band in concert, meet them back stage then get cooked for their after-party!”

“She must have been pretty excited?” Karl observed as they rolled the spit into place on the patio and the man showed him how to lock the wheels and where the catches were to unfold the apparatus. “Eaten by her heroes?”

“Yup!” chuckled the man, “You should have heard the way she went on about it! The wife and I were pretty glad when the day came as it meant we got a little bit of peace and quiet! So what about you?” He asked with a warm smile. “Got many kids?”

“Just the one.” Karl smiled, “For a few more hours anyway, after that I guess I’m a free agent again!”

As if on cue, Becky appeared at the French windows and practically yanked them open in her excitement. Technically she had got dressed but it was close to bare minimum and somehow looked more provocative than if she had burst into the garden naked. She was now wearing a pair of white panties with a somewhat ironic “Hello Kitty” design on the front with little pink hearts all over the rest and a loose-fitting yellow crop-top. At least, unlike her father, she had managed to locate some easy-to-slip-on shoes so wasn’t now barefoot on the concrete as she was.

“Ooh is this really it?” She bounced around excitedly, inspecting the folded device from every angle and trying to work out how a person might be mounted on it for cooking. It was a strangely thrilling feeling, looking at the machine on which you knew you were going to die fairly soon! “How does it work?” She looked up, confused.

“Has to be unfolded first.” The man explained, “I’ll leave your dad with the instructions. So, I take it you’re the guest of honour at the party today?”

“No,” Becky smiled, missing the man’s point, “It’s Dad’s party! It’s his birthday you see and… oh!” It suddenly hit her what he had meant. “Yup! I’m on the menu this afternoon, for sure!”

“Haha!” The man chuckled affectionately, seeing a lot of his own daughters in the enthusiastic little girl who now seemed to be attempting to crawl under the device, between the wheels, in search of answers. “Well I’m sure you’ll both have as great time and that you’ll be delicious, young miss!” Her grinning head emerged to thank him. “Right then,” he slid a thin metal box about of a slot it the framework and handed it to Karl. “Here’s your accessories, knives and whatnot. Manuals in there too. Any questions, give the tech support number on the back a call. I’ll be back to pick it up between nine and ten tomorrow if that’s okay?” Karl confirmed that it would be. “Great! Well, enjoy your party and bon appetite!”

“So how does it work?” Becky asked again, somewhat impatiently, after her dad had signed the delivery note and walked the driver back to his van. “Doesn’t look much like the picture on the website!”

“He said it has to be unfolded and assembled.” Karl reminded her, “But it’s supposed to be fairly simple.” He opened the steel box and Becky’s eyes grew wide at the contents – assorted large knives and cleavers as well as tongs and a couple of things that looked a little like small saws! She felt a quiver of excitement knowing that they were all intended for use on the bodies of girls like her. She wondered how many she would get to experience and whether she would be alive when she did! Strapped to the inside of the lid was a thick manual which Karl took out and started to read in the frustratingly slow way of parents everywhere.

Eventually, however, working together and referring back to the manual from time to time, the pair managed to get the device set up and it truly was magnificent! When mounted on the polished metal spit, the meat would be at just the right height for Karl to baste and eventually to carve. A small motor linked to a thick rubber strap would keep the spit turning over the suspended trough where the lit charcoal would be placed. Becky had been sure to check that there was plenty in the shed left over from last summer before she ordered the spit – it would have been so embarrassing to have all the machinery ready to cook her but nothing to provide the heat!

“What’s this for?” Becky asked, sliding a smaller trough in and out of its loose slot above the coals. Karl consulted the manual.

“That’s a gutting tray!” He explained. “Apparently, for the best results I should cut your belly open and take out your intestines and other bits. According to this I can either do it before we spit you, if we wanted to fill you with stuffing or something, or wait until you’re mounted and use the tray, either just after we put you on or wait a while until you’re dead.” Discussing cooking his daughter in such a matter-of-fact way should have felt strange to Karl but for some reason it did not. If anything, accepting her as the cute and energetic little fuck-toy she had been for the past two hours had been more of a struggle. He supposed that, having accepted that, seeing her as meat was not too great a further leap! “What do you think?” he asked with a smile. “When do you want me to do it?”

“I’ll think about that while we get everything else set up.” Becky furrowed her brow a little at the thought. Honestly, every option had its pros and cons so she would have to take her time and weigh them up to decide. She explained that all the guests were brining their own drinks plus some to share and various of them had agreed to bring side-dishes and desserts so they didn’t need to worry about anything like that but they should get the long picnic tables out of the shed and as many garden chairs as they had. Karl pulled the metal patio table closer to the spit-roasting apparatus so he would have somewhere for the tools and the manual in case any issues arose during the cooking. Karl had always prided himself on his prowess at the barbecue and was sure that his pretty little daughter’s meat would go down in history as his greatest achievement to date!