Pt 8

The next day passed fairly uneventfully for Beth, apart from the hints that her parents kept dropping about where they were taking her for their final meal out together the following evening. To her frustration, all they would say was that it was “fitting” and “seemed like the right place under the circumstances” but for the life of her she could not work out what they were meaning and, however much she wheedled and probed, they would say no more.

When Wednesday morning came and she called by the Thomas’ house to collect Maddie on her way to the salon as she had promised that she would, she was pleased to see that she now had a bike of her own so they could ride into town together. While she waited for her friend to get ready, Beth could not help asking if it was okay to go into the garden and take another look at the spit. She found the rather grim device strangely fascinating and, as she stood alone gazing at it and imagining how she would look impaled and mounted upon it in a few days’ time, she began to feel again the self-lubrication that she had informed Percy was part of the cooking process.

“You can’t go on it yet!” said a cheeky voice from behind her. Beth turned around to see Maddie in one of her new outfits, stood with one hand on her hip and the other resting on her new, shiny purple bike. “If you got cooked today you’d go cold by Saturday and if we just stick you on it now and wait until Saturday to cook you, you might get kinda bored!”

“I know!” Beth laughed. “It’s just, well… you know!”

“I think so!” giggled Maddie, strapping on her bike safety helmet, the colour of which exactly matched her bike. Although she didn’t usually bother with one herself, Beth was very pleased to see that Maddie had been bought a helmet as well as the bike. Although she insisted she could ride, she had a lot less experience of being out on the road and it showed that her new family were serious about taking care of her.

The staff at the Salon were a little surprised to see Maddie, almost not recognising her at first in her far more age-appropriate clothing than what they were used to. They were very excited and happy to hear her news about being taken in by the Thomas’s. There was not a single one of them who was unhappy to hear that the delightful little girl they had all grown so fond of was finally free of her self-indulgent bitch of a mother!

The treatment program was much the same as Beth’s first visit, except instead of the hair-removal bath it began with a short soak in the same flavour-enhancing liquid that the towels in the sauna would be impregnated with. Then followed the tenderising massage which didn’t feel to Beth to be quite so painful as before but whether that was because the worst knots and tensions had already been pummeled out of her muscles and had not had much time to re-form or simply because she was better prepared this time and knew what to expect, she could not say.

There had been light conversation with the workers as they administered the treatments, mostly about the plans for the party on Saturday and how Maddie was settling into her new home but, once they were alone in the sauna, wrapped in the moist towels, the younger girl brought up a more serious and, she feared, sensitive topic with the teenager who, despite having been a stranger less than a week ago, was now the best friend she had ever had.

“Hey, Beth?” the little girl asked in a quiet, almost timid voice.

“Yeah?” she replied, wondering what was troubling her young friend. From the tone of her voice she could tell that something was up.

“You know how Mummy and Daddy said it would be up to me? You know, if I wanted to be Christmas dinner or not?”

“Yeah?” Beth prompted again, wondering what possible advice she could give a little girl who had been so groomed her whole life to accept her destiny as meat and, for the first time in her life was experiencing a little freedom.

“Well, like, would you be offended if I said I didn’t want to? Not this year anyway?”

“Why would I be offended?” Beth wanted to sit up and look at Maddie but remembered the instructions to lay as still as possible.

“Well, it’s just that you’re getting cooked on Saturday,” Maddie reminded her in the same awkward tone, “and I thought you might think that if I said I didn’t want to be, you might think I was saying that there was something wrong with being a meat-girl and that I thought you were stupid for letting them eat you or something like that?”

“Not at all!” Beth smiled, hoping that the expression was conveyed in her voice. “I’m really flattered that my feelings matter to you but really, our situations are so different! I’m letting myself be cooked as a birthday present to make two children I really love happy. They bought you as meat just because that was the easiest way of getting you away from… well, of getting you away. But they told you if you didn’t want to be cooked you didn’t have to be! Listen,” she spoke softly, reassuringly, wanting her young friend to understand that she really was okay with whatever choices she made, “I’ve been free my whole life, free to volunteer at any time, or not, if I didn’t want to. Between you and me, I’d often thought about it but never really thought of anyone I’d be happy to be eaten by until the twins asked me. You’ve been raised to be meat your whole life by someone who cared way more about themselves and their reputation than about you and what you wanted so it’s only fair you get a taste of that freedom now!”

“You really mean that?” Although Beth could not see her, Maddie sounded happy.

“Of course!” the teenager smiled again. “If you don’t want to get cooked then that should be your choice to make, just like it was my choice whether I said yes or no to the twins!”

“Oh I didn’t say I never want to get eaten!” Maddie added hurriedly, worried that Beth may have the wrong idea. “I almost feel like it would be a waste if I wasn’t and it seems a bit ungrateful after everything Mummy and Daddy have already done for me not to let them enjoy my meat one day but, well, I’d kinda like to have one normal Christmas,” she said this a little sadly, “with a nice, normal, loving family.”

“I’m sure they’d be very happy to give you that.” Beth replied truthfully, thinking of all the kindness the family she was giving her life and meat for had been to the girl who had asked nothing more of them than that they buy her to eat.

“Good.” Maddie sighed a little before giggling. “They can always eat me next Christmas!” she laughed, “Or at Easter if I can’t wait that long!”

“I thought you wanted to grow boobs first?” Beth teased. “You might have to wait a couple of years!”

“Aww a couple of years?” Maddie whined in an exaggerated tone making it clear that she was joking. “But I’ll be all old and stringy by then!”

“Thanks!” Beth laughed in a tone of mock-offense. “I guess you won’t be wanting any of this old, stringy meat on Saturday?”

“Guess I might force down a couple of mouthfuls!” Maddie giggled. “If there’s really nothing better on offer!” Beth was not even the tiniest bit offended at this joke as the young girl had told her at least ten times, three of those in that morning alone, how much she was looking forward to sharing in her body. The teenage found it a strangely pleasing and heart-warming feeling, knowing that people were excited to be eating her.

“I kinda hate my middle name too.” Maddie admitted once the giggling from both of them had died down. “Remember I told you? It’s Sidney after that girl who made eating us legal before getting chopped up and cooked herself?”

“Yeah I remember.” Beth agreed. “I’ve just been reading a book about her actually. Seems like she was a nice girl, I can think of worse people to be named after.”

“Well yeah,” sighed Maddie, “I saw the movie about her but it’s just…” She thought for a few moments, trying to find the right words, “It’s just yet more evidence that that woman was never interested in me as a daughter and just saw me as some sort of meat-farming project like a piglet she bought from market.”

“Well if you’re going to ask to be deregistered,” Beth suggested, “I’m sure you can ask to change you middle name at the same time. You can have Elizabeth if you like.” she grinned, finding the sound of her full name a little strange as she used it so rarely, other than when meeting a new teacher at school or when she went to the doctor. “It’s not like I’m going to be needing it after Saturday!”

“I think I’d like that!” Maddie smiled, looking dreamily up at the ceiling of the sauna and rolling the name around in her head. “What’s your middle name?”

“Cynthia!” Beth laughed. “After my Grandma. You can have that too if you want but I don’t recommend it!”

“Nah I’ll pass if it’s all the same to you!” the younger girl giggled. “But I think I’d like to have your name as my middle name. It would feel like part of you was still here with me.”

“Other than the bit in your belly?” Beth teased gently.

“Well that gets pooped out sooner or later!” Maddie reminded her with a little giggle. “But your name would be forever. Or until I get cooked myself, that is. Forever for me, at least.” Although she knew that Maddie was right, Beth found it a strange thought. She had imagined as far as starting to cook and had even thought about how pieces of her would be cut off for people to eat but had never really followed the thought to its logical conclusion that her remains would end up as other people’s excrement! Not that it really mattered, she thought to herself, she knew the bones of meat-girls were often ground up for fertiliser once they were done with and becoming sewerage was just another path to the same destination. In a funny way, it was a bit like her flesh being reunited with her bones!

She wondered what the Thomas’s planned to do with anything that didn’t get eaten on Saturday. Depending on how many guests there were, she imagined there might be a little left over. Would they be eating Beth cold-cuts for supper the next day? Would the twins take Beth sandwiches to school on Monday? Would Mrs Thomas use her bones to make a stew? As these thoughts floated through her mind, Beth found that she had no especially strong feelings on the matter but it was something interesting to ponder while she waited for the end of this sauna session.

Later, having dropped Maddie safely back home and promising to see her in time for dinner the next day, Beth began to probe her mum once more about where they would be going for their meal that evening.

“If we told you that,” her mum chuckled, “it would spoil the surprise!” Beth huffed but knew that she was right. Although she was desperate to work it out, the allure of a surprise still held some innocent magic for her.

“Just tell me one thing about it, then!” she wheedled.

“Okay!” Her mum smiled and thought for a moment or two before reply. “It’s somewhere we’ve never been before!”

“Well that narrows it down!” Beth rolled her eyes dramatically but mentally ticked at least three places of the list in her head. “Is it somewhere you have to dress smartly for?”

“Hey that’s two things!” teased her mum. “I agreed to one! But okay, it’s not super-posh, like, you don’t have to dress like you’re going to a wedding or something but it’s not somewhere you’d turn up on old rips jeans to either. It’s somewhere people go for special occasions and usually like to make an effort.”

“Okay,” Beth nodded thoughtfully, “So what would…”

“Uh-uh!” her mum wagged a finger at her. “No more clues! If you’re bored, why not go pick out what you’re going to wear tonight?” Beth already had an idea so rather excitedly agreed and ran up to her bedroom. She hoped the garment she had in mind still fitted as it had been nearly a year since she last wore it and she was not convinced that she had not grown a little taller since but she was fairly confident.

Finding what she was looking for in her wardrobe, she held it up against herself and felt satisfied that it would work. What Beth intended to wear for her last meal out with her parents was a red dress she had bought for a party last Summer. It was the first, and basically only thing she owned that could be described as “sexy” or even, for that matter, especially feminine! Despite her pretty face and long hair, Beth had always been more of a tom-boy but every woman and girl likes to feel pretty once in a while and she decided that tonight was the perfect time to give the dress a second outing.

There was no point getting changed yet – it would be another two hours before her dad was home from work so probably closer to three before they were ready to head out to wherever it was they were going but she could at least find the things she needed. She didn’t have a dressing table – she had never felt the need for one, but on top of her chest of drawers was a small mirror that she usually used for checking her hair and a jewellery box mostly filled with shiny trinkets that had been presents over the years. Although she could very rarely be bothered with jewellery, she still liked to wear it on special occasions and this evening certainly qualified. Pulling open the drawer where she kept her socks and underwear, Beth rummaged around and found what she was looking for – a small makeup set given to her by an aunt at Christmas in an attempt to influence her to be a little more “girly”, quickly stashed away and forgotten. For once and surely the final time in her life, however, the teen felt that the evening called for at least a little eyeshadow and lipstick. Tossed in a corner under a heap that included a rather dubious-smelling towel, various t-shirts and at least one pair of underwear that should probably be tossed into the bin rather than the laundry basket, she located the pair of slip-on silver sandals with a slight heel that she knew would go very well with her dress. The matching bag was, she knew, hanging on her door handle where it had been since the party for which she bought the dress.

Feeling slightly better prepared for her mystery outing, Beth flopped down onto the bed and reached for the stack of books on her night stand. Having finished the sci-fi novel and the biography of Sidney Roebuck, she wanted to finish off the horror novel but, before she did so, there was a certain other itch that needed scratching. Picking up the well-worn booklet Mrs Thomas had given her when she agreed to be the twins’ birthday dinner, she turned to the article entitled “How it feels to be cooked – What to expect on your big day”. She had read the article so many times over the last few days but with even more intensity once she had known for sure the method by which she would be cooked.

Unbuttoning the top of her denim shorts, she slid a hand down the front of them and under her underwear as she read the detailed description of how being spit-roasted would feel. The sections on boiling, butchering and oven-roasting were all fascinating too of course but none gave her the feeling of personal connection and intimacy she derived from the section on spit-roasting.