Hopefully the final part will come tomorrow :-)

Pt 8

The announcement was made that the big show of the afternoon was about to begin and the children emerged from the pool. Some used towels to pat themselves down but most contented themselves with letting the warm afternoon sun take care of that, the girls with longer and thicker hair pausing only to twist it, wringing out most of the water. While Mrs Marshall began filming once more, knowing that what was about to happen was definitely something the twins’ grandparents would want to see, Mr Marshall handed out the grass-skirts and lays to those who wanted them, explaining that it would help them “look the part”.

“Wow!” Megan muttered to Barney as they watched their mostly-naked friends donning the token costumes. “When we decided to come like this, I didn’t think we’d be the most modestly dressed!” Barney could not help but agree – their all-over body paint and thicker grass-skirts meant they were actually far more covered than most of the other party-guests, only a very small number of whom wore anything at all beyond the “cannibal” accessories. Even among those who had put their bikini bottoms on, none of the girls wore any kind of top! It was something of a relief to Barney to notice that he did not seem to be the only boy there who was finding the view rather exciting!

Once all the children were out of the pool and ready to watch, one of the other dads helped Mr Marshall carry a wooden table in front of the pot, sturdy enough for the girls to kneel on for their spitting. Lucy’s mum, who had been helping out in the kitchen, carried out a deep, fairly wide oval plastic tub – the baby-bath the Marshalls had bought when the twins were tiny. It had been in the garage for many years, filled with bags of compost and packets of bulbs but, when they realised they were going to need a large bowl for the party, it has struck them both as the perfect solution. It seemed fitting, somehow, to be using something the girls had been washed in on the first day of their lives on their last day too.

Carefully, she set it down on the ground, taking care not to spill any of the viscous, reddish-brown liquid which sloshed around inside. The guests all peered eagerly to work out what was in the tub. At first some of them exclaimed that it was blood and began to speculate who it had come from and what it was for but others pointed out that it had an obvious tangy, sweet smell that blood does not have. Chuckling, Mr Marshall explained that it was a special barbecue marinade, made from a recipe passed down from his grandfather who had learned it from his own dad as a young man. The girls would, he told the hungry party guests, be basted with the sauce several times while they cooked but that it would help them be even tastier if they were coated before going on the spit. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed that both his daughters were grinning excitedly.

“Perhaps you two should do the honours?” He suggested, handing knives to Megan and Barney. “You’ll need to cut our prisoners off the posts and bring them out front here so we can all watch them prepared for the spit! Here,” he took their spears, “I’ll hold these for now. Try not to cut the meat when you cut the ropes,” he cautioned, “don’t want blood getting mixed in the marinade!” Giggling, the two young savages went behind the twins’ poles, Barney to Natasha and Megan to Hannah, and cut first the ropes that bound their ankles then those around their wrists. Although they had begged to be tied up securely for authenticity’s sake and had not asked to be released, despite knowing that they could have at any time, neither meat-girl could help giving an audible sigh of relief, shaking out their hands and feet to get the blood-flow and feeling back into them.

Keeping in character, the two cannibal children grabbed their prisoners by the hair one hand and pressed the knives into their backs with the others as they led them, still giggling, to the area in front of the cooking pot where their father was waiting for them beside the tub of family-recipe marinade.

“Excellent job!” Mr Marshall exclaimed as he looked at his two little little girls, grinning from ear to ear and wearing nothing but the explorer hats he had ordered for them. “Now I’m very sorry about this, girls,” he joked, “but you were warned about what might happen if you went wandering around the jungle looking so delicious! Now you’re going to be dinner!”

“Aww shucks!” Hannah sighed, playing along, “But what can you do, eh?”

“I know, right?” Natasha agreed. “Sucks to be us, I guess! At least these hungry cannibals are going to get a good dinner!”

“Now we need you to get coated in this sauce,” Mr Marshall explained as he handed the spears back to the cannibal siblings who levelled them at the twins, threateningly, “but we don’t want to get sand in it so I’ll need you to come stand close and I’ll help you in, one foot at a time, okay?” He took a pack of unscented wipes from his pocket and pulled the first one out. Prompted by the tip of a spear being poked into her perky round bubble-butt, Natasha was the first to come forward. She put a hand on her dad’s shoulder to steady herself and raised her left foot. It tickled as he wiped the sand off, leaving her foot as clean as the rest of her. Although he had said in the morning that the girls would need to be washed again before cooking but it had occurred to him that the saltiness of the slight layer of sweat they were sure to acquire while on the poles would combine well with the sweetness of the marinade. A few seconds later, Natasha had two feet in the gloop and Hannah was being prodded towards it by a rather over-enthusiastic cannibal.

“Now girls,” explained Mr Marshall with a broad grin, “we need to get every inch of you covered, apart from your heads, and the easiest way would be for you to coat each other so please, go ahead!” This was a nice surprise for the twins who had not asked that many questions or even thought too much about the preparation – their entire focus had been on the idea of the spits sliding into their tight, eager little pussies and pushing all the way through.

At first they both bent down, much to the delight of those watching, and filled their hands with the thick, sticky liquid and began smearing it on each other’s chests, then Hannah turned her back on Natasha who knelt down and gave her sister’s delicious buttocks a nice thick coating before telling her to turn around so that she could cover her yummy, meaty vulva. Once she was done, Hannah was quick to return the favour.

Mr Marshall noticed that once again, Barney seemed to be very much enjoying the view and a quick glance at the few other boys revealed the same number of parted grass-skirts. Not that he could blame them as his own erection was straining against the inside of his underpants and he was very pleased that he had not opted to dress like the children. He couldn’t help but wonder how many of his fellow dad’s who had stayed to help out with the party were having a similar issue. He knew, of course, that there were men and the occasional woman who’s sexual preference was for preteen girls like his daughters and their friends but he had never counted himself among them. Something about this scene, however, was driving him crazy, much like his experience in the bath that morning! Perhaps it was the idea of the little girls being so willingly prepared to cook that he was finding so hot? One thing was for certain – Mr Marshall would be keeping a copy of this part of the video for his own entertainment and wouldn’t be surprised to be discretely asked for additional copies in the next few days!

All too soon, however, the meat-girls were both covered and ready for their big moment! Mr Marshall had been going to ask them who was going first but the cannibal sibling seemed to have already made the choice! Using their rather too pointy-tipped spears, the prodded a giggling and mock-protesting Natasha out of the tub and onto the table which she managed to clamber up onto and posed on all fours, ready for the spit. With another of his wipes, Mr Marshall cleaned the newly-acquired sand off the soles of her feet and quickly re-applied more of the marinade.

“You know, if we’re going to stick the spit in there, you’re going to have to keep your butt still!” he teased his daughter who was wiggling her bottom provocatively from side to side, much to the amusement of the watching party guests.

“Ah but you’re not sticking it in my butt, are you?” Natasha replied cheekily.

“Good point!” her dad laughed, “But you still need to keep still!”

“Fine!” She pretended to pout, folding her arms and resting her chin on her folded arms so that her hind-quarters stuck up in the air, providing a neat angle for the spit to be pushed through. “So?” the cheeky, excited meat-girl teased, “Are we doing this or not?”