(A real update from me - not the spam from whoever that was earlier!)

“This doesn’t really require much explanation!” Margaret smiled, running her hand along the rim of the black iron pot. Your mum was just telling me you’re all going to start off in here?” The girls nodded. “Good. As you can see, it’s filled about half way.” Maria put her hands on the edge, making it sway slightly, and peered inside. “It’s just water for now,” the caterer continued, “so if it over-spills a little with all four of you in it, no harm done. We can top it up when it’s just the two little ones.” Natasha wondered if her sisters would object to being described in this way when they were always keen to be seen as more grown-up than they were but they didn’t seem to. She supposed, in this context, it was an accurate description – they were, after all, the smallest girls on the menu, and presumably they saw it that way too. Either that or they were too excited about cooking to really care. “We’ll be adding some other ingredients later to thicken it up, but when you first get in it will just be like a bath. In fact, we should get the fire underneath lit now, give the water a chance to warm up.”

“I’ve assigned one boy and one girl to each cooking station.” she continued as they walked on after she signalled to a blonde young woman currently in the same uniform as the red-head to come and light the fire under the pot. The scenery and prop team were all done with their setting up now, having added some extra props around the village scene to make it seem more authentic including skulls and other bones from previous “victims” which Natasha was almost sure were real. “But there will be others around, serving drinks and suchlike, who will be able to help out if necessary.”

“So this is where I’ll be tied?” Their mum asked, running her hand up the side of the rough frame.

“That’s right.” smiled Margaret. “Arms above your head, feet spread. Everything nice and accessible. Although…” He frowned a little and her naked friend looked at her curiously. “Well, are you sure you wouldn’t rather be slaughtered first? We could hang you by your feet and bleed you out and it really wouldn’t make any difference to the meat.”

“Oh but that wouldn’t be so much fun, would it?” the beautiful nude woman chuckled. “Come on, you’ve done it this way plenty of times before! I’m no different from any of the other meat-girls you’ve served up, just because we’re friends!”

“I suppose not!” Margaret chuckled. “Did you have any questions about the process?”

“Just one!” The busty olive-skinned beauty looked a little dreamily at the frame then stood inside it, reaching her arms up to hold the top bar, imagining how it would be when she was tied in. “Do your people cut the meat or do guests do it themselves?”

“Oh well actually I wanted to talk to you about that.” The caterer was happy for the reminder. “It’s rather up to you. It is quite a thrill for people to be able to make their own cuts but equally, folks who don’t really know what they’re doing can make quite a mess and make things more painful for you. Some clients opt to have my team do the actual cutting, especially when it’s their daughter or wife on the menu, but since you’re the one who hired me, you’re the one who gets to choose!”

“I suppose some people would be less confident about it?” the attractive mum of three asked, releasing the bar and shaking out her arms which had already gone a little numb and achy from being stretched up like that. She was starting to think that the discomfort of the pose would be much harder to endure than actually having pieces of meat cut from her still-living body. “How about we say people can do it themselves if they want to but that your people can do it for them if they’d rather leave it up to a professional?”

“That sounds like a good compromise.” Margaret nodded.

“Wow Mum!” Maria exclaimed. “It sounds so intense! You’re crazy!”

“What?” Her mum chuckled. “A girl only gets to be eaten once, doesn’t she? I might as well enjoy it for as long as possible! Anyway, didn’t you say you wanted to be burned at the stake before I talked you into being soup?” Maria blushed and giggled as did her twin sister. Knowing that they didn’t have a lot of meat to offer, the pair had brainstormed various other fun and entertaining ways of being snuffed but, in the end, their mum had convinced them that it would be best to cook after all and that boiling in soup was the best way to make the most of their tasty young bodies.

“Now the spit!” grinned Margaret, leading the small party to the low construction with the polished wooden spit resting above the charcoal pit. “The spit is single-use from made from sustainable wood,” she explained, “and afterwards it’s recycled as charcoal so it’s very eco-friendly!” She smiled, proud of her company’s green credentials. “Feel it!” She invited Natasha. “It’s just as smooth as steel one and I promise you it’s sharp enough! The nice thing about wooden spits,” she explained as the teen did as invited, caressing the polished wood on which she would soon be impaled, “is they’re not so cold as metal ones when they go in, a much more comfortable cooking experience!” Natasha wondered how it was possible to verify such a claim but she supposed it didn’t really matter too much.

The wood looked like cheap pine but stained dark to look more authentic. It was very shiny and smooth apart from the holes about a centimetre deep, in group of six at intervals down its length on either side. Natasha supposed they were to help with flexibility, or something to do with how the wood would react to the heat, maybe twisting or distorting a little.

“When they cook girls at school,” she began her question, “they use a small second spit that goes in their ass to make sure they turn with the pole. Does this have something like that?”

“No but that’s a good question!” Margaret smiled. “You see these peg-holes here?” She ran her finger along the side of the pole, pointing out the holes Natasha had noticed. “We have little skewers that stick in those and pin you to the pole but we don’t put them in until you’re spitted so we know exactly where they need to go. Josh?” She called to a young man near by who was setting out plates and cutlery on one of the serving tables. “Can you show this young lady one of the securing spikes?”

“Of course!” he smiled and disappeared inside one of the fibreglass mud-huts, coming out a moment later with a wooden mallet on one hand and what looked like a long nail in the other. “This is one.” He showed it to Natasha. “See it has the wooden cap on at the moment?” The four-inch metal rod was roughly a quarter-inch wide and blunt at one end. On the other end was a small cylinder of dark wood. He popped this off to show her the sharp tip then pushed it back on. “That’s so we can tap it into place with this!” He showed her the mallet. “Then we take it off and push your arm or leg on.”

“Are those single-use too?” The naked teen asked in fascination.

“Oh no, we pull these out afterwards. See the marks?” He pointed to some slight indentations down the length of the spike where it had clearly previously been gripped with pliers. “They can be used plenty of times!”

“Oh wow so lots of other girls have used them before me?”

“That’s right!” Josh smiled. Natasha found the idea strangely comforting and it made her feel special, as if she were part of a long tradition.

“Mmm can’t wait to sink my teeth into this!” It was Natasha’s dad, back from the pub with his friends. He grabbed his wife’s juicy ass from behind and kissed her on the neck.

“What about this one, Daddy?” Stephanie teased, turning and wiggling her own bottom. Natasha did nothing particular to attract his attention but he looked her up and down appreciatively. She blushed as both twins giggled.

“All four of you looking delicious!” he grinned as the friends he had arrived with were offered a drink by one of the catering team and began checking out the themed display. “Looking forward to tasting all of you!”

“Well you’ll not be tasting any of us,” his wife teased, causing him to frown, puzzled, “unless you get the forms signed!”

“Oh right!” he chuckled, realising what he still needed to do. “Have you got them?”

“I’ve got them here.” Margaret smiled, having collected a clip-board from one of her employees. “They’re all filled in, I just need your signature at the bottom and you wife and daughters are meat!”

“Sure about this, honey?” he asked his wife, his pen hovering over the dotted line. “We could just have them cook the girls and maybe…”

“Oh just sign, silly!” she teased. “I’m looking forward to this, you know I am! And you don’t want your friends to miss out on these, do you?” She cupped, squeezed and jiggled her own breasts, teasingly.

“True!” He laughed. “But dibs on the nipples! There you go!” He handed the signed papers back to the caterer. “All sorted and above board. They’re all yours!” Natasha thought of her own shapely teen boobs with their perky pink nipples and wondered who would get to enjoy them. Of course they were not as big as her mum’s but were still sure to yield several thick, juicy slices!

“Wonderful!” Margaret smiled, checking over the signed papers. “Okay, team?” She turned and shouted, getting the attention of her ten staff, all of whom seemed to be in their late teens or early twenties. “The guests are starting to arrive so go and get changed, please. But be quick about it!” The uniformed young men and women all stopped what they were doing and went into the house. “All four are going to start in the pot,” she explained to Natasha’s dad, “then we’ll take the older two out when it’s time to get them started. Do you want them in now?”

It was quite a thrill for Natasha’s mum the way her long-time friend and collaborator suddenly stopped addressing her questions to her and was instead talking to her husband. She understood this was protocol – she and her daughters were no longer people, they were meat that Margaret and her team had been hired to cook and, although it was she who had done all the planning and arranging, her husband was now technically the client.

“Yes, good idea.” he nodded. “It will add to the atmosphere when people arrive.”

“Perfect, as I thought.” Margaret nodded with a smile. “The water should be comfortably warm by now and my team will be out any minute to help them in and keep and eye on them while they simmer. Ah!” She smiled as she looked over towards the house. “Here they come now!”