“First I will read the names of the four girls representing Florence Hamilton,” Mrs Henderson smiled, “who will be boiled in the pot to make what I’m sure will be a delicious stew!” She named four girls from the first and second year. Hearing their names read out, they all looked both shocked and excited, some appearing a little dazed as their friends around them clamoured to congratulate them. “Very well done to you girls.” The head mistress smiled. “And remember, if you did not get chosen it is no reflection at all on your looks or what we suppose to be the quality of your meat. We simply had to pick the most suitable girls from each age-group for the type of cooking we’re planning. Now, onto the next group.”

“This is it!” Helen squeezed Laura’s hand even tighter.

“Representing Constance Hamilton by being roasted on the spit,” Mrs Henderson looked down at her list. “Will be Naomi Wilson, Rachel Northwood,” Helen and Laura were holding their breath for real now as the first two girls to be named were congratulated, “Helen Baxter,” Helen practically leapt out of her seat, “and Michelle Cole.” She sank back down again, deflated. She turned to Laura who was sitting glassy-eyed with a blank look on her face.

“Laura?” the red-head asked gently, putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry they picked me and not you. In my head I always kinda assumed we’d both get picked or neither. Or if they picked just one of us then it would be you but… Say something?” she urged. “Please?”

“It’s cool.” Laura replied quietly. “Just trying to decide how I feel. I thought I’d be relieved if I didn’t get picked but… Congratulations to you anyway.” She turned to smile at her friend then leaned forward to give her a warm and genuine hug. “Really! I’m happy for you! If you’re still happy about it, that is?”

“Oh yeah!” Helen beamed, allowing herself now to show her happiness. “Hey!” She grinned cheekily. “Now you’ll be able to compare how my pussy tastes raw and cooked and decide which is better! Too bad I won’t be around to hear the verdict! Weird they didn’t want these on the menu, ‘though?” She reached forward and honked Laura’s boobs though her school shirt. They felt different encased in her sturdy bra – Helen had rather got used to them au natural.

“I guess I wasn’t the right body type for the spit?” Laura suggested in a philosophical tone. “Think about it. All of you that got picked are toned and athletic rather than curvy. With great asses too!” She added quickly with a cheeky grin. “Maybe if I’d been a couple of years older I’d have got picked for the buffet?” Mrs Henderson was now reading the names of the girls picked to represent the oldest Hamilton sister, Prudence, and it was true that they were all girls with big boobs, thick thighs and plenty of junk in the trunk, just like Laura. “Hey, at least Janice got picked so I might get a slice or two of that ass after all!” Laura laughed, trying to make the best of the situation. The girl they had been so admiring at the inspection had exchanged a triumphant high five with her best friend sat next to her when both their names had been read out, one after the other, and Laura could not help but be a little jealous of their shared experience. She was happy for Helen of course, although she would miss her, knowing how keen she had been to be one of those picked, and she knew that she should feel relief that she wasn’t going to be killed and eaten but there was still a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was missing out on something very special.

“Honestly I’m glad I’m not in their category!” Helen admitted, looking over at the happy, busty teens. “I mean, I know getting a spit shoved through me isn’t exactly going to be pleasant and then there’s the actual roasting too… That’s gotta sting a bit, right?”

“I guess!” Laura chuckled.

“But having to stand there while people cut bits off you? That’s a whole other level! Not that I don’t think it would be cool to be able to watch my meat cooking and see people enjoying it. Can you imagine that?” She asked. “Having someone come up to you and tell you how good you taste while they’re munching on your left tit in a burger bun?”

“That does sound kinda hot!” Laura admitted, giving her own a squeeze. “Hey, at least you can keep sucking on mine for a few more days even if you don’t get to eat them!” Both girls giggled and Helen went to get up but it appeared the head mistress had not yet finished talking.

“Our thanks and congratulations to all the girls who will be part of our wonderful feast!” she beamed. “Thanks to you, I just know it will be an occasion that we will all remember for the rest of our lives! But,” she continued, “it has been pointed out to me that the three sisters were not the only ones whose lives and meat led to the founding of our wonderful school. The Hamilton family were accompanied on their adventure by a young maid named Polly O’Sullivan.” she explained. The girls who had read the journal, which by now was most of them, were aware of this unsung heroine who may or may not have been as willing as the sisters to give her meat but this was the first time they had heard her acknowledged officially in this way. “She was given to the people of the village,” she continued, “to establish a friendship. The friendship which eventually led to the sisters taking the place of honour at the annual feast and so,” she smiled, “it could be said that without Polly, the events which led to the founding of our school could never have happened!”

“That’s right!” Laura whispered to Helen. “Why doesn’t she get a portrait?”

“Because she was poor and Irish so didn’t matter!” Helen rolled her eyes. “You know what people were like back then. Even the good ones were kinda dicks!”

“True!” admitted Laura with a slightly hollow chuckle.

“She was not part of the feast we are recreating,” the head mistress continued, “but it should not be forgotten that the sisters who were had partaken of her meat and so we have thought of what we believe to be the perfect way to honour her, and also to give our lovely volunteers a treat, since they will be missing out on the wonderful girl-meat banquet the rest of us will enjoy!” This provoked a fair bit of chuckling from the other pupils and some hungry looks shot in the directions of the chosen girls. “It will also give our friends from Warwickshire College a chance to really show off their skills.” The head mistress was clearly very pleased with herself and the solution to Laura’s question that had been reached.

“While three girls may not be enough to feed four or give hundred people,” continued Mrs Henderson, “one is certainly enough to feed twelve. And so we have decided that, just as Polly O’Sullivan was butchered for a meal in which the Hamilton sisters participated, one girl will be butchered on Friday to provide a meal for those girls who will cook on Saturday!” This was met with more gasps and excited chatter.

“Polly was twenty two years old when she died,” the head mistress explained, “so we considered enlisting one of our younger members of staff but in the end we decided there was only one person who was right for the role. Although considerably younger than the historical Polly, she has a good, full figure which will more than do justice to her memory and, since it was her idea that Miss O’Sullivan should be honoured in our celebration along with the sisters, I am delighted to announce that our gift of friendship to the girls for the feast will be Laura Jameson!”

For the second time in less than ten minutes, Laura felt an overwhelming mix of conflicting emotions as the hall erupted into cheers and applause around her and Helen flung her arms around her shoulders and kissed her passionately. Having just started to come to terms with the idea that she was not to be on the menu, she suddenly found that she was after all, but on a special one for just the other meat-girls including her dear friend which, in a way, was even more special than being just another part of the feast! “Laura will be slaughtered Friday morning,” explained Mrs Henderson as casually as if she were giving the itinerary of a field trip, “and her meat divided up to be cooked in all sorts of different ways, ready for a special meal exclusively for our Delicious Dozen! Now,” she smiled down beatifically at her pupils, “if the thirteen of you could come up here, I have papers for you to sign. The rest of you may return to your rooms or whatever you plan to do with your evenings.”

“Wow!” Helen held Laura’s hand as they made their way to the front and up the steps at the side of the stage. “So I get to taste your tits and ass after all!”

“Apparently so!” Laura laughed. “I guess you’re the one who gets to decide if my pussy’s better raw or cooked! Better make sure you’re very familiar with the raw taste first!” She winked at her friend. The other chosen girls all wanted to hug, thank and congratulate the slightly overwhelmed teen who would be their last meal, since they knew they would not be allowed to eat the morning of the feast. Laura took the comments and compliments in good spirit and couldn’t help but feel pleased about how happy they all seemed to be at the prospect of eating how and how much they were all looking forward to her meat!

On a table at the back of the stage were thirteen clipboards with neat piles of paper attached, four or five sheets from the looks of it, stapled in the top corner, and a pot with pens in.

“Find the one with your name at the top.” Instructed Mrs Henderson. “You can read it all if you like but essentially it says you understand what will happen and are participating willingly. It absolves us of responsibility for any pain or discomfort you suffer and renders your bodies property of the school to do with as we wish. In legal terms,” she continued as the girls picked up the papers and leafed through them, squinting at the many paragraphs of tiny text which barely read like proper English, “you are granting your consent for us to kill you and dispose of your remains. Your parents’ signatures have been added electronically on the last page, we just need yours next to them. Print your name underneath and initial every page, please, then give them back to me when you are done.”

“Euthanasia consent form!” Helen laughed, looking at the heading on the first page. “I guess that’s how they’re getting around the law to commit basically mass murder!”

“Not sure this is what that politician lady had in mind when she said legalising it would be a slippery slope!” chuckled Laura, flipping to the back page and signing her name next to her mother’s before writing it out neatly underneath. “But here we are! Who knows?” she grinned at Helen. “You might be right about it catching on! Too bad we won’t be around to find out!”

“Feels good to be a pioneer though, doesn’t it?” Helen grinned, scribbling “HB” in the corner of the first page. “There!” she dropped her pen back into the pot. “It’s all official! I’m meat!”

“So, do you guys still have to go to lessons this week?” Emily set her magazine down and sat up, cross-legged on her bed when Laura and Helen arrived back. “Congratulations on getting picked, by the way!”

“Yeah! Good on you!” Charlotte grinned. “Kinda jealous of you, Helen!” She giggled. “The rest of us don’t get to taste Laura’s boobs!”

“Hey!” Helen stuck out her tongue. “Mine not good enough for you?” She cupped her own more modest chest over her uniform shirt and juggled them a little. “Quality over quantity!” All four girls giggled.

“Don’t know about the lessons.” Laura sat down on the edge of her bed and kicked off her shoes, feeling light-headed as if she were in the middle of some strange dream that didn’t entirely make sense. “They didn’t say that we didn’t have to so I guess we’re still expected. But I know one thing for sure!” She giggled, flopping back onto the bed horizontally.

“What’s that?” asked Emily, folding up her knees and hugging them.

“I’m not going to worry about finishing that essay that’s due on Monday!” The four girls giggled again.

“Do you think word’s going to get out about all this?” Helen asked, starting to untie her uniform tie. Unless they planned to do anything else with their evening, most of the girls tended to stay in their uniforms after dinner until it was time to undress for the mandatory shower but Helen always liked to change into more casual clothes as a way of marking that the school day was over and that she was now in her own time. “Like on the news and stuff?”

“Don’t know.” Emily admitted. “Oh but I forget to tell you at dinner! I asked Mrs Henderson and she said a team of media students from the college will be making a professional souvenir video of the day, with all the proper equipment and stuff, but I’m welcome to borrow one of the school cameras for my own project! Cool, huh?”

“Guess your tits are gonna be famous after all!” Helen teased Laura, slipping off her shirt and putting it on a hanger so she could wear it again the next day. She unzipped the side of her skirt and carefully stepped out of it then clipped it to the hanger under her shirt.

“So?” Charlotte grinned as Helen sat down on the her bed in her underwear and started to take off her shoes and socks. “Aren’t we going to do something to celebrate? We’ve got a couple of hours before shower time, I got most of my homework done over the weekend and I bet you two aren’t in the mood for studying!”

“Well no.” Laura admitted, sitting up. “Got any ideas? We probably should do something, you’re right!”

“We could watch a movie, maybe?” Emily suggested. Although there were no televisions in the bedrooms, each floor had a lounge with sofas, bean-bags and a large screen hooked up to a blu-ray player but the selection in the drawer underneath was a little limited. The library had quite a few more unusual and arty movies but still nothing that would really make for a special occasion. “Actually, scratch that!” She sighed. “There’s nothing good we haven’t already watched!”

“It’s still warm enough for a swim?” Laura suggested.

“No, wait! I know!” Helen grinned with that impish twinkle in her eye that meant what she was thinking of was, at the very least, a little unorthodox.

“Go on?” Laura chuckled.

“Well!” She leaned forward and the other three leaned in to listen. “After I finished Lord Hamilton’s journal I thought I’d go see if there were any other books like it in the library and I found one of these really beautiful old photos, you know, those brown and yellow type like in the journal? Of girls out in nature posing nude like fairies or mermaids and stuff! Why don’t we borrow one of the school cameras, go down to the woods and make our own? It will be light for ages yet! Then we can play about with them in the computer lab and make them look old. We could make our own little scrapbook or album. What do you think?” She turned to the two girls in the room who would survive past the weekend. “Something fun to remember us by once you’re done shitting us out?”

“Once we’re done shitting you out, you mean!” Charlotte reminded Helen, sticking her tongue out. “We don’t get to eat Laura!”

“Well I’ll eat Laura then you’ll eat me so in a way you’ll be eating Laura too, just kinda second-hand, and we’ll be reunited in your belly and shat out as one!” She giggled.

“Trust you to make poop sound romantic!” laughed Emily. “But yeah, cool idea! I’d be up for it. Charlotte?”

“Sure!” the pretty, mixed-race girl chuckled. “Sounds like fun!”

“Great!” Helen hopped to her feet and in no time at all was out of her bra and panties, reaching for her dressing gown on the back of the door. “I’ll go get a camera while you three strip off! I’ll be as quick as I can!”

Less than fifteen minutes later, Helen was back in the doorway of the bedroom, having found Mr Archer from the art department in his office marking homework and sweet-talked him into letting her borrow one of the school’s digital cameras – a sweet-talking which may or may not have involved letting her robe fall open and promising copies of the photos. The other girls were all waiting in nothing but sandals and bath-robes, their hair all brushed out and flowing in as close to preraphaelite style as they could all manage.

As they passed the lake, they saw that a few girls were enjoying an early evening swim although nobody was now sunbathing.

“So how do we do this?” Charlotte asked when they found a nice spot in the little copse with plenty of picturesque trees and a very old, hollow, fallen trunk which would be great to pose with. “One at a time and pass the camera around?” She took her robe off and folded it over her arm. One of the girls who had not volunteered and so had been part of the small inspection, Charlotte was a little plumper than the other girls but with a very appealing bubble-butt and fairly small, chubby boobies with big, dark-brown nipples which contrasted very attractively with her light-brown skin. Her cheeks were lightly freckled and her hair very dark brown and wildly curly. Like Helen, she allowed her fairly sparse but dark pubic hair to do its own thing, preferring a natural look.

“Yeah I thought so.” Helen agreed. “Maybe a few shots with two or three in but mostly solo stuff.” She and the other girls were quickly naked and bare-foot, their robes and sandals all placed safely together over and under a low branch of one of the trees.

The girls all had a wonderful time posing for each other, suggesting poses that the others could try, forming tableaux together and generally losing themselves in creativity and the creation of beautiful images many of which would not have looked out of place in a book of photographic art. By the time they got back to their floor, they were already running late for the shower and quickly swapped their robes for towels in the bedroom before arriving, gigging and out of breath, outside the bathroom just as Mrs Langford was about to mark them as no-shows.

Instead of reprimanding them, however, the mother lady simply chuckled, ticked the boxes beside their names and urged them to hurry. In the showers, of course, everyone wanted to get a look at Laura, Helen and Naomi, with many of them asking to touch and feel the meat, requests which the girls found quite thrilling to oblige.

“Hope Priya’s not too upset about not getting chosen?” Helen remarked to Laura as she allowed her backside to be fondled and Laura’s boobs were receiving their umpteenth squeeze. The beautiful Indian girl was showering quietly in one corner, chatting to her best friend.

“I’m sure she’ll be okay. Don’t know why she wasn’t picked, ‘though, with that body!” Laura assured her. “You know,” she mused, “it’s got me wondering. If the school can get away with doing this then I guess parents could too? Maybe some of the girls who didn’t get picked will get their wish after all?”

“Daughter, the other white meat!” Helen laughed. “I dunno. I still think the school must have pulled some stings and dropped money into the right pockets to keep this all legal and above board. Cool as it would be, I don’t think it’s going to become a normal thing just yet. It would take a few years and probably some celebrity endorsement. Maybe someone on one of the soaps getting cooked as part of the story or something to get people used to the idea?”

“Yeah.” Laura agreed. “Cooking a girl in the back garden might be a tricky one to explain to the neighbours! Did you write your letter to Greta, by the way?”

“No but I’m going to!” Helen assured her. “Maybe I’ll give the letter to Mrs Langford and ask her to post it after the weekend with a copy of the video the college students make?”

“Good idea!” Laura grinned.

“Having fun?” Emily bounced over and grinned, her golden hair filled with conditioner waiting to be rinsed out. “Enjoying being centre of attention?” The two meat-girls giggled in response but did not deny it. “So what are you whispering about like a pair of n’er-do-wells?” Asked the little blonde with a chuckle.

“Just wondering if some of the parents of the girls who didn’t get picked might cook them at home over the holidays!” Helen informed her. “But we don’t quite think the world is ready yet!”

“Ooh you think you might be starting a trend?” Emily looked genuinely intrigued. “Well if I come back in September and half the class is missing, I’ll know what happened!”

“What about you?” Laura asked. “You were pretty keen to sign up! Not gonna try talking your parents into investing in a nice stew pot for the garden?”

“Hmm tempting!” Emily giggled. “Guess I’ll wait and see if girl even tastes good first!” She pinched one of Helen’s perky, light-pink nipples playfully making her squeal them scampered off to find a free shower-head to rinse her hair.

Tuesday was very much a normal school day, although the teachers turned far more of a blind eye than usual when the girls who were going to be eaten were somewhat less than attentive during lessons and none seemed to expect them to turn in any homework like the rest of the class. When a planned test was given out in their German lesson, Laura tried her best out of a sense of honour and for her own satisfaction but Helen simply sat doodling on the page and Frau Luther made no comment at the end of the hour when she collected in the papers.

Wednesday was much the same except for the excitement late afternoon when the equipment for cooking the girls which again had all been built by students from the college was delivered and set up along with other pieces of theatrical set-dressing to turn one part of the school grounds into a rather impressive approximation of the cannibal village from the journal photographs.

Instead of being lined up side by side as most had supposed they would be, the four spits and the roasting pits beneath them were arranged like spokes of a wheel with a large iron cooking pot suspended over a circular fire-pit in the middle. Triangular stone pits were marked out in two of the wedges with metal mesh over the top – these were the grills on which the buffet meat would be cooked. In the other spaces stood tall wooden frames like door-frames with no door or wall around them.

Once everything was set up, the girls were allowed out one class at a time to inspect it and ask any questions of the students who had designed the set-up. They explained how they had tried to keep the look as authentic and historically accurate as possible while making use of modern materials and adhering to the health and safety standards for cooking meat that was going to be served to the public. While the spit and stew girls would all be cooked at once, they explained, the buffet girls would be presented two at a time and tied into frames. One of the frames could also, they explained, be used for butchering Laura the day before and a table would be set up in the “village” at which the other twelve meat-girls could eat although her meat was actually going to be cooked in the school kitchen.

Although they had all seen the equipment with their class-mates, all the meat-girls went for another look that evening, paying particular attention to the pieces of equipment what would be used to cook them. Helen even borrowed the camera again and stripped off had herself photographed leaning provocatively on one of the spits and the cute little stew girls had a group picture taken in front of the pot, giving peace signs as if they were posing with a walkabout character at Disneyland or a famous statue.

The next morning, with no instructions to the contrary, the meat-girls dressed in their uniforms as usual after their shower and went down to breakfast but, when the other girls were dismissed to go to their lessons, the thirteen chosen ones were asked to wait behind.

“A reporter from a very popular national newspaper is coming to see you this morning.” Mrs Henderson explained. “He will want to interview you and take some photographs. They will try to send a reporter on Saturday as well but of course they never quite know what important news-worthy events might happen before then so they want to do a story about the plans. Apparently we’ve already been on the television news and discussed in several publications but theirs will be the first official story with sanctioned interviews and pictures. Is everyone happy with that?” The girls all grinned and nodded, excited for their fifteen minutes of fame.

“Make sure you hair and uniforms are perfect.” She instructed them. “You’re representing the school after all! Maybe take this time while we wait for them to give your shoes a bit of a shine and give your blazers a brush down?” The girls obediently scampered off to their bedrooms to spruce themselves up.

“Pretty sure they’re going to want us naked?” Helen observed as Laura braided her hair nearly. “They’d sell more papers that way anyway!” she added with a giggle.

“Maybe they want both?” suggested Laura. “I expect Mrs Henderson insisted that we get photographed in our uniforms. You know how she loves to promote the school!”

“True!” Helen giggled. “I’m kinda surprised she hasn’t made us get the school badge stamped on our asses instead of a meat stamp!” The friends giggled together then went downstairs to meet wait for the reporter.

When they got to the lobby inside the front door, by the school office, Laura and Helen found most the rest of the meat-girls sitting patiently on the bench along the wall, neatly turned out with polished shoes, ties straight, socks pulled up and their straw boater hats nearly atop their heads.

“Any news?” Laura asked as she sat down next to Tiffany, a girl from the second year who would be going in the stew, petite and pretty with wavy, shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair.

“Not yet.” The twelve year old sighed. “Mrs Henderson is outside waiting for them. The last two that they were waiting for, Samantha and Jessica from the sixth form, arrived and sat down just as the waiting girls heard the tell-tale crunch of a car pulling onto the gravel drive-way in front of the school.

“That must be them!” Helen grinned. All the girls leapt to their feet and tried to crowd around the narrow windows either side of the grand wooden doors.

“Settle down, girls!” The school secretary, Mrs Jennings, called through the large window-space which separated the entrance lobby from the office, the place where guests would come to sign in. The neatly-uniformed girls somewhat reluctantly returned to the bench and, moments later, one of the doors opened and Mrs Henderson showed two friendly-looking men inside. One was in his later forties or early fifties and dressed in a smart leather jacket over jeans and a white shirt, his wavy grey hair just touching his collar. The second was younger, maybe thirty, with dark hair in a pony-tail and a goatee beard, dressed in t-shirt and slacks with a utility vest over the top. Around his neck hung a large black camera.

“Girls,” Mrs Henderson addressed the excited group as she ushered the men inside and closed the door behind them, “this is Mr Wilson from the paper.”

“Please!” Smiled the grey-haired man, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Call me Frank!” With his long-ish hair, leather coat, light stubble on his chin and laid-back manner a lot of the girls thought he looked more like a rock-star than a reporter. Although he was clearly older, older in fact than most of their parents, he was by far the more attractive of the two and his easy charm quickly put them all at their ease. “I’d love to take a look at the set-up and have a chat with some of you then Colin here will take some photographs.” The younger man gave a little wave accompanied by a sheepish smile.

“Did you want to talk to the girls here?” Mrs Henderson asked. “Or should we go around so you can see the equipment?”

“Let’s go there, shall we?” Frank suggested. “Then I can chat with the girls while Colin frames his shots then we can get some nice pictures to really sell the story. We’ll be putting this on our website too if that’s okay?” He addressed this to the girls rather than the teacher, all of whom nodded eagerly, a little in awe of the charismatic reporter and wanting to please him. “Great! We can put more photos on there than in the paper and have more quotes from you girls. No real space restrictions on the digital version like there are in print!”

“Very well.” Mrs Henderson’s smile was a little forced. It was quite clear that she had expected to be the focus of the interview with the girls more or less as window-dressing but she accepted on reflection that the public would probably be more interested in the pretty young school-girls who were going to be cooked than the middle-aged teacher who had organised the event. In fairness, she realised, there was not a whole lot she’d have been able to say that wasn’t already in the press release she had sent out, especially as she had written it herself anyway. “Follow me, please!” She led the reporters, followed closely by the girls, through the corridors of the stately home which housed the school then out of another door which led to the back part of the grounds – the area where the cooking equipment and faux village was set up with the meadow, lake and woods beyond it.

“Hey this is quite something!” Frank exclaimed, looking at the set-up. He spoke quietly to Colin who went off and started taking pictures around the area, sometimes just looking through the view-finder of his expensive-looking camera to work out the best angles and most attractive shots.

“What’s your name, honey?” Frank smiled charmingly at one of the younger girls, a slim twelve year old with a light-brown bob hair-cut and a chest that was just starting to push out her shirt.

“Lisa.” She smiled, her cheeks pink.

“Nice to meet you, Lisa!” He grinned back at her. “So how are you gonna be cooking?”

“In the pot, sir.” She smiled again, pointing towards the large, iron cauldron. “Boiled into stew!”

“Sweet!” Frank exclaimed. “But no need to call me sir!” He winked at her and her blush deepened a little. “How about you?” He turned to Jessica, a curvy blonde sixth-former with long, straight hair. “What kind of dish are you gonna be?”

“Um, the living buffet?” She explained meekly, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had one of those?” Frank stroked his silver-stubbled chin and pulled out a little notebook. “Care to unpack that for me a little?”

“Well,” the stunning but timid seventeen year old replied, “I’ll be displayed in one of those frames.” She pointed one out to the reporter. “Then people can pick which bits they want and one of the team will cut it off for them and put it on the grill.”

“Woah!” Frank gave a low whistle. “That’s kinda hard-core! Looking forward to it?” Jessica nodded, her eyes cast down modestly. “Kinda nervous too I bet?”

“A little.” She admitted with a slight smile. “But mostly excited!”

“Great to hear it!” the reporter chuckled, scribbling some quick notes. “What was your name again, honey?” She told him. “Great! We’ve got a list of all your names of course,” he addressed the whole group, “and I promise we’ll include them all but I like to know who I’m talking to so I can make sure I attribute any quotes accurately. Now,” he grinned, turning to look at the nearest spit, “who’s going to be riding one of these?” Four hands shot up, including Helen’s.

“Nice!” He picked Helen out to speak to. “Tied on or impaled?”

“Impaled of course!” Helen giggled. “I think so, anyway?” She glanced questioningly over at Mrs Henderson who gave her a reassuring nod and smile. “Yup! In one end and out the other!” She grinned broadly at him, her cheeks a little pink and all the other girls giggled.

“Okay!” laughed Frank. “Sounds kinda fun! And you are…?”

“Helen.” the red-head informed him with a smile and he noted this down on his pad.

“Now,” he looked back to the group, all of whom surrounded him, smiling up adoringly, “I hear one of you is actually getting the chop the day before so the rest of the girls can try some… what should we call it? Human flesh? Girl meat? Before they cook.” He looked around for the girl in question to identify herself.

“That would be me!” Laura raised her hand happily. “I’m Laura.”

“Thank you!” Frank chuckled, noting down her name. “How do you feel about being chosen for that role? It’s something quite special!”

“It’s an honour!” Laura smiled happily. “I feel rather proud about it because it was my idea to remember the Hamilton’s maid in this celebration as well as the daughters. So it only feels right that I should be the one representing her.”

“So I understand things will be a little different for you than the rest of the group?” He flicked to a new page on his pad and smiled, his pen poised ready to note down what she said.

“Yeah.” Laura nodded. “I’m not going to be cooked alive like the others, which is a bit of a shame,” she admitted with a shrug, “but I love that my meat is going to be cooked in lots of different ways and that I’m going to be giving my friends a chance to taste girl before they go on the menu themselves.”

“But no girl-meat for you?” Frank asked with a chuckle.

“Well things have to start somewhere!” Laura giggled. “And this way I get to make history, being the first!”

“That’s a great way of looking at it!” Frank gave a genuinely warm smile. “I wish you well! All of you in fact.” He smiled around at the girls. “This is a great thing you’re all doing and I aim to make sure you all get the recognition you deserve.” The school-girls grinned up at him happily. “Let’s see if Colin’s ready to take some photos. Colin?” He turned and called to his colleague. “Do you know where you want them?”

“Yup!” The pony-tailed photographer called back. “We doing the uniform shot first?”

“Well they seem to have gone to a lot of effort.” Frank replied then turned back to wink at the girls who all giggled, many of them blushing a little. “Feels like we should.” Standing slightly back from the excited huddle and listening to the conversation, Mrs Henderson nodded approvingly.

“Okay!” Colin took charge. He was nowhere near as charming as his older colleague and seemed quite quietly spoken in general but, when talking about a subject he knew well, he spoke with the kind of authority that inspires confidence and the girls hung on his instructions. “Let’s have you over here, between these two spits, in front of the grill with the pot in the background.” The girls shuffled into the general area indicated and milled around, awaiting further orders. “You in the middle, please.” He pointed to Laura. “Then… who was going on the spit, again?” The four hands were raised. “Great. Two of you either side her, please.” The girls did as they were told. “Now if you four younger girls could kneel in front of them? Great!” The stew girls, Tiffany and Lisa along with Nina who was black with a neat centre parting in her dark, curly hair and Sabrina who was of Pakistani heritage, her thick black hair in a long ponytail, knelt on the soft grass in front of the five teenagers, their bare knees just visible below the hems of their pleated grey skirts.

“Great, now who do we have left?” He looked at the older teens and pondered for a moment. “If you and you,” he pointed to Jessica and Janice,” kneel at either end of the front row and turn inwards slightly, that’s it, great! Just come up a little for me, all of you.” he instructed and the kneeling girls rose up on their haunches. “Perfect! Want to show off the uniforms nicely, don’t we?” The girls grinned and giggled. “Then you two,” he indicated Samantha and Elizabeth, “stand at the ends of the back row! Fantastic! Now I want you to remember these positions because we’re going to be using them again, okay?” The girls all nodded their agreement and Colin crouched down to take the shot, shifting slightly between bursts to ensure he got the best angle.

The girls did indeed look very smart and pretty in their uniforms – grey, knee-length skirt, white socks with black, patent-leather shoes, blue blazers with yellow trim, the school badge on the breast pocket, over a white shirt, blue and yellow striped tie and topped with straw boater hats, the band around which bore the same pattern as the tie. Were it not for the spits and giant cooking pot in the background, it would have looked like any other formal class photo.

“That’s great!” Colin lowered his camera but did not stand up, wanting to preserve the angle he has settled on. “Now can we do one where you’re all waving at the camera, a little more relaxed?” The girls did as they were asked and the photographer took another barrage of shots. “Fantastic!”

“Remember your places, please.” He stood up. “Exactly where you are because now I’m going to need you too…” He blushed and fumbled awkwardly with the lens on his camera so he wouldn’t have to make eye-contact with the girls. “That is, if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to…”

“Maybe I should take it from here!” Frank chuckled, putting a comforting hand on his colleague’s shoulder. Colin smiled gratefully and stepped back, busying himself with checking the first batch of photos on the camera’s view screen. “I’m sure it won’t be any surprise to you girls,” Frank began, clasping his hands together, “that we’re hoping to get some pictures of you all dressed like you will be on the day. Does anyone have a problem with that?” The girls all shook their heads and assured him that they did not, most of them really looking forward to stripping off for the charismatic reporter and hoping that he would like what he saw. On top of that, of course, was the thrill of being able to show off and flout social convention. “Great stuff!” He grinned. “And it’s okay with you too?” He turned to the head mistress who gave a polite nod of affirmation. “Great! I know we talked about it on the phone but I wanted to be sure.”

“Now girls, here’s the thing.” He held out his hands before clasping them again, gesturing that he was opening up to them and taking them into his confidence. “I’ve been talking it over with our editor and he’s just not sure what we can get away with. You’re all lovely girls and I know that is far from normal circumstances but all but, I think, two or three of you are under the age that we would normally be able to publish nude pictures, some of you quite significantly so.” The girls all listened intently. What he was saying did make a lot of sense. “Now because of the nature of the story,” he continued, “we can, I’m sure, get away with more than we normally would but the last thing we want to have to do is ruin a lovely shot of you beautiful girls with blurred patches or black bars so here’s what we’re going to do, if you’re okay with it.”

“We’ll take a series of different pictures with varying amounts of…” He pondered a second for the right word. “Let’s say exposure!” He grinned charmingly and many of the girls giggled. “That way we’ve got all our bases covered and, when I get back to the office, the legal team can review and make a call on it. Now, am I right in thinking you have uniform undies as well as the rest?” He turned to Mrs Henderson who nodded again.

“That’s right.” She explained. “School uniform requirements include all garments worn during the school day, although the girls may wear their own clothes in the evenings and weekends, outside of lesson times.”

“Sounds good.” the reporter nodded. “But I’m guessing not all of you wear bras?” There was muttered confirmation of this from the girls. “Okay so we don’t want things looking messy with some with, some without, so if you could all strip down to your panties for us and get back in these positions, we’ll take it from there, okay?” The girls all grinned and nodded with many of them immediately starting to loosen their ties or bend down to take off their shoes.”

“Let’s have a bit of decorum please, girls!” Mrs Henderson called out. “You are still representing the school after all.” The long table at which they would dine on Laura’s meat the next day had already been set out on an area of flagstoned patio which filled the space between the building and the part of the lawn where the cannibal village had been erected, although there were as yet no seats. “Please come undress over here, off the grass, and put your clothes on the table. Neatly please!” She added as the excited school-girls scampered over and began to strip off.

Soon the girls meat-girls were all back in place, some of the younger girls looking with envy at the boobs of the older girls which jiggled as they scampered across the lawn in nothing but white cotton panties. With the plump young vulvae all now hairless, most of them having received a fresh shave that morning, there were plenty of cute camel-toes on display as the thin which cotton clung to the meat beneath. Colin got back into his position with his camera at the ready but, knowing that the sweet-natured photographer was well out of his comfort zone, Frank continued giving the instructions.

“Let’s do a covered one first.” He suggested. “Now, it looks a bit suggestive if you put your hands over your chests, or like you’re embarrassed about how you’re dressed, which I’m sure none of you are?” Confirmation of this came in the form of giggles from most of the topless girls. “So here’s what I’d like you to do.” He explained. “Cross your arms over your chests with your hands on your shoulders, like this.” He demonstrated the pose he wanted and all the girls copied perfectly. “That’s it!” He grinned, “You girls are naturals!” He did a quick look along both rows to check that no nipples were showing then gave Colin the word to go ahead. Half a minute or so later, Colin nodded to confirm that he’d got the shot.

“Great!” Frank clapped his hands together again. “Let’s have your arms by your sides like the first one, okay? But let’s have those shoulders back this time! If we’re going to show off those lovely chests, let’s really show them off, huh?” The girls all giggled and posed as requested, boobs of all sizes from buds to grapefruit pushed forward. “Lovely!” Frank grinned after Colin had taken the shot. “Now wave for me again.”