Chapter Two


As the assistant closed off the rope behind her and the lights in the restaurant dimmed, ready for the dance performance to start, Jennifer looked around for her parents. She spotted them quite quickly at a small table, suitable for two to four people, towards the back of the dining area but to her surprise they were grinning and urgently pointing towards the stage as if trying to tell her something. She turned and looked where they were pointing and saw a friendly-looking older couple sat right at the front, waving and beckoning to her. She glanced back at her parents who both gave her double thumbs-up, showing that they were happy for her to go to this other couple so she made her way over.

“Hi there, honey!” the woman who looked about sixty years old with the kind of faded elegance that suggested she might have once been a famous actress or singer greeted her. “We saw you filming and got talking to your mum and dad who told us all about your project! Please!” she patted the pink-cushioned chair between her and her husband. “Best seat in the house!”

“Wow, really? Thank you!” Jennifer gushed, noticing the emptied plates ready to be cleared on the table. The couple smiled at her from either side.

“We come every Saturday to watch our granddaughter!” the man explained proudly. “Oh! They’re starting!” The gentle background music playing in the dining room that Jennifer had not even noticed until it disappeared was faded out and the lights dimmed even further. A bright light like a supernova appeared in the middle of the idyllic meadow projection, growing brighter until it filled the screen. When it subsided, the image had been replaced by an abstract black and white pattern. Realising that the loud music would come out very distorted anyway and that the bright lights would make filming difficult, Jennifer switched the camera to capture still images, selecting the “Action Shot” mode. That way, she would be able to capture a sample of the dancers for her project but still be able to enjoy their performance without watching it through a viewfinder.

As a few seconds of upbeat filler music played, the sixteen young dancers filed out onto the stage, eight out of each door, and formed themselves into two lines with their backs to the audience. They were all dressed in Sidney costumes, half in pink and half in white. As she took the opportunity to snap a few pictures before they started moving, Jennifer was impressed to notice that none of them showed any sign of tan lines and wondered if they really did sunbathe totally nude or whether the effect was achieved with spray-tan, concluding that the truth was probably a mixture of the two options.

“Which one is your granddaughter?” she whispered to the woman behind her as the proper music started and the girls started shaking their delectable rumps in time to the beat. The song was an old Italian novelty song remixed with a techno beat which Jennifer recognised as having been used in an old comedy movie about nerdy teenage boys on holiday that she had seen some of with her parents on TV once.

“Second from the end, front row!” the woman beamed proudly, pointing out a tall blonde about Jennifer’s own age wearing pink Sidney attire. The song switched to a more tuneful park and the dancers turned around to face the audience, dancing in something close to hula style with plenty of shoulder and hip rolls, the front and back rows switching places as the black and white patterns swirled behind them before the techno beat dropped in again and the girls resumed wiggling their backsides at the audience.

“She’s very pretty!” Jennifer smiled between taking snaps.

“Thank you!” the woman whispered happily. “We’re ever so proud of her! Just like we were her sisters!”

“We used to come and watch her mum and her aunts too, back when they were her age!” her husband explained with obvious pride. The girls on stage continued to wiggle and grind, now with their hands on the backs of their heads, constantly and seamlessly rearranging themselves and moving around the stage so that the audience, wherever they were sat, got to enjoy their lovely bodies from all angles and every girl got their chance to shine.

“They always start in this outfit,” the woman explained in a friendly whisper before Jennifer could ask any follow-up questions about their family, “then they do a couple of more themed ones!” Jennifer enjoyed the rest of the dance and took several more pictures before the song came to an end then joined in the enthusiastic applause with the rest of the audience as the filler music took over again and the girls scampered off stage to change.

“Did your other granddaughters get too old for the dance group?” Jennifer asked curiously as spotlights danced around the empty stage in time to the filler music, the screen at the back showing colourful, psychedelic patterns.

“Oh goodness me, no!” the lady chuckled. “Sarah was actually the middle sister but Jessica opted to be Star of the Show last Summer,” Jennifer had heard this term before – it meant that a member of the dance troupe would be given a featured role in the day’s performances, usually with either costume, choreography or both designed to make them stand out from the others, and at the end of the night’s final performance would go straight to the public cooking area where they would become one of the carvery girls, most commonly the spit-roaster, “and we had little Sophie for Christmas dinner! Such a cute little turkey she was, giggling all the way into the oven, her belly full of stuffing making it look like she was having a baby!”

“Oh I see!” Jennifer grinned. “And her aunts? Did they go the same way?”

“That’s right!” the lady grinned. “And my sisters! We were part of the one of the very first groups when Sidney’s opened! Oh, not this one,” she clarified, “but the one near where we lived back then! I was a bit jealous of them at the time,” she sighed nostalgically, “but as our mum said, someone has to stick around to make more meat-girls!” She grinned at Jennifer.

“And what about Sarah?” Jennifer asked, biting her lower lip as exciting and thrilling thoughts flooded her imagination. “Will she...stick around?”

“Well…” the lady chuckled. “Her mum’s pregnant again and thinks it’s twins this time so who knows? Ooh look!” she sat up and looked towards the stage where the small doors had opened again. “I think the next song’s about to start!”

The next song began with a grinding beat as the girls came back out, forming a single line following the semicircular edge of the stage. This time they were dressed with scarves around their waists in red and green, so thin they left nothing to the imagination what so ever, trimmed with thin gold coins which caught the light very prettily and rattled together as they moved, almost like bells. They wore bangles of similar coins around their wrists and ankles. This dance was a belly dance with a lot of grinding, hip thrusting and general gyration. The song was a mix of reggae, bhangra and pop performed by a man with a very gravelly voice. It was far more overtly erotic than the first dance and had a very infectious beat which Jennifer found herself moving her shoulders to. A glance to her right confirmed that the grandmother she sat beside was doing the same, the smile on her face showing she was remembering her own days in the troupe and probably imagining herself up on the stage with the girls.

At first, Jennifer thought the screen at the back was showing live images of the girls with special emphasis on their rumps, overlaid by significant words from the song including it’s five-syllable title but she quickly realised that this would require people with cameras moving around the stage behind them which there clearly were not so it had to be pre-recorded. The combination of the music itself and the way the girls were moving made Jennifer feel quite tingly and she was sure that no man in the audience could possibly be watching without an erection. As she snapped her pictures for her project, she wondered if the backing video had leaked to the public or whether it might be possible to get a copy some other way to use in her presentation.

By the end of the dance, Jennifer was feeling a little flustered and hot under the collar and could not help wondering what it was like for the kindly gentleman on her left watching his granddaughter like that! The applause, cheers and whistles were louder this time as the song came to an end and the girls quickly evacuated the stage.

“We used to do that one!” the lady to her right grinned. “It’s funny to see which of the old classics stick around while others drop out of popularity. Of course some seem to get retired then brought back years later! I guess it depends on the personal taste of the choreographers as they have access to pretty much all the archive of tracks and there must be hundreds of videos out there, from the restaurants and the showcases!” Jennifer was about to ask what a showcase was but already the girls were coming back on stage for their third and final dance of the set.

This time the screen at the back showed a very stylised animated jungle, complete with curious purple monkeys, green and red parrots and the occasional lion sticking their head through the undergrowth. It reminded Jennifer a lot of the “George of the Jungle” cartoon. For this routine, the dancers wore nothing but long, shaggy wigs in a variety of neon shades including yellow, green, pink and orange and necklaces made from small plastic bones and lion teeth. The bones each girl brandished in the hands, however, were very real – human femurs bleached and polished! They were clearly from girls who had ended up on the menu at Sidney’s and Jennifer could not help wonder how long they tended to last before needing to be replaced and how many of them had belonged to former members of the dance troupe! Did all the girls on stage know whose bones they were holding up in the air, crossed above their heads and they waited for the song to start or were they all kept in a pile ready to be grabbed with nothing more than pot luck influencing who got which bones?

The song started with a shouted demand for some magic words, followed by the answer in a booming, resonant voice. Jennifer recognised the song immediately and once again took advantage of the relative stillness of the girls to snap some pictures. The actual song started and the girls began their energetic dance, using the bones as props like a cross between majorettes and morris dancers! This was an upbeat, bouncy song which led itself to the kid of energetic goofiness typical of the Sidney’s dancers, quite removed from the deeply erotic gyration of the middle song. The song ended and the girls waved their bones playfully at the audience before vacating the stage. As the doors closed, the stone archway moved in from the sides and top around the cartoon jungle which then faded to black. As the lights in the restaurant came back up and the normal business of ordering, serving and eating was resumed, the loop of the naked girls in the idyllic meadow began to play once more on the screen.

“Hey! Nice to see you again!” Hallie grinned as Jennifer and her parents reached her serving station. She was looking very pink now all over, so pink in fact that it was hard to differentiate her puffy, pale nipples from the rest of her cute little tits but she still seemed to be enjoying herself as much as ever.

“You too!” Jennifer beamed as her friend filled her bowl. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be...you know, here!”

“Probably got about another half an hour to go!” Hallie mused cheerfully. “So by the time you’re ready for seconds, we’ll be ready to serve!” She grinned at Jennifer while politely filling her parents’ bowls. “Watch out for when they put the new girls on!” she suggested. “That should make some great footage for your project!”

“Ooh yes, good idea!” Jennifer thanked her. “Well, enjoy your bath!” Hallie giggled and waved as the family made their way to the main carvery where there was still some very juicy cuts of meat to be had from both the roast girls. Jennifer opted for a couple of slices of thigh from both. It was not the first time she had eaten Girl of course but it was her first time at Sidney’s and she wanted to sample all the cooking methods on offer. After loading up their plates with vegetables and other sides, they returned to their table and began to tuck in happily.

About fifteen minutes into their meal, they were approached by a tall, blonde girl of around Jennifer’s own age, dressed in a baggy, hooded pink sweatshirt with a big gold S on the front, black sweatpants and a pair of pink crocs. Although she was dressed so casually, her makeup was heavy and over the top. In one hand she held her phone and in the other she carried a small plate of salad with some strips of girl-meat laid across the top.

“Room for a little one?” she asked with a grin. At first Jennifer was puzzled but then she realised who the girl was.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You’re Sarah from the dance troupe! Yeah, sure!” She pulled out the spare chair next to her. “Please, join us! Mummy, Daddy,” she turned to her parents, “this is Sarah. She’s one of the dancers. The nice couple who let me sit with them are her grandparents!”

“I see!” Jennifer’s mum smiled warmly. “Well it’s very nice to meet you!”

“Yes,” her dad smiled and Jennifer couldn’t help but giggle a little as she noticed how he was blushing, suddenly finding himself in conversation with a girl he had enjoyed watching dance stark naked up on the stage not half an hour earlier, “you’re most welcome to join us!” His eyes darted around as he searched for a topic of conversation that wasn’t directly linked to her dance performance, eventually falling on her plate. “That seems quite a light meal, considering all the energy you put into your dancing?” he smiled politely.

“Oh this is just a snack!” Sarah grinned as, in the absence of extra cutlery on this table set for three, she picked up one of the strips of girl-meat. “’scuse fingers by the way!” She took a bite. “Got to keep my energy up but don’t want to be too full up on stage! I’ve seen girls make that mistake before. It wasn’t pretty!” She pulled a very clear you-don’t-want-to-know face! “I’ll have a proper plate after the last show!” She licked her fingers, winking at Jennifer’s dad teasingly as she did so, making him blush even deeper and his daughter giggle even more, then turned to Jennifer. “Anyway,” she smiled, “Nana told me all about your project and said I should come over and see you. I can’t stick around too long now,” she explained apologetically, “but thought I could get your number then you can ask me questions if you need to and I know Nana has some stuff from when she and her sisters were in the troupe that she wants me to scan and send to you. Sound good?”

“Ooh yes please!” Jennifer beamed gratefully then rattled off her number to Sarah who put it into her phone then sent a message so Jennifer would have her number too.

“Awesome!” Sarah pulled one of the strips apart in the middle and wrapped one half in a lettuce leaf. “So,” she asked, taking a bite, “what made you want to write about Sidney?” As they all enjoyed the delicious food together, Jennifer explained about her project and why she thought that Sidney was the woman who had done most in recent history to change the world. Sarah offered some of her own insights too, having grown up in a family that had fully embraced Sidney’s dream and world-view from the beginning, despite it still not being without controversy.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said a polite young male server who approached the table after a little while, “but the next batch of girls are about to be put on to cook and they perfectly willing to be filmed! Take your plate too,” he suggested with a grin, “and you can be front of the queue when the carvery reopens with the fresh roasts!”

“Oh shoot!” Sarah exclaimed, looking at her phone as Jennifer stood and took out her camera, “I was supposed to be at a rehearsal five minutes ago! Oh well!” she grinned. “What are they gonna do? Make me do it in my underpants as punishment? Well joke’s on them!” she giggled, pulling down the side of her sweatpants to prove she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, not that Jennifer or anyone else had been expecting her to. “Message me, yeah?” Jennifer nodded enthusiastically. “Enjoy the rest of your dinner and enjoy the show!” She scurried off towards the lobby from which there was presumably another way to access the rehearsal space without going via the stage.

“Don’t worry, honey.” Jennifer’s mum smiled reassuringly as her daughter tried to work out how to carry her plate, bowl and camera while still giving herself enough freedom to film. “You go get your footage, we’ll bring your plate!” Gratefully, Jennifer set the crockery back down and swiftly made her way to the cooking area while her parents ordered some more drinks from the young man who had come over to alert her.

The carvery area was closed for the changeover but the attendant assigned to watched the small crowd who gathered to watch spotted Jennifer, having been told to look out for her, and beckoned her forward, inviting her to stand with her just inside the rope where she could get some good shots for her her project. She warned her in a friendly tone not to get in the way which Jennifer happily agreed to as she took in the scene. Three excited girls who looked as if they ranged in age from ten to about fourteen were waiting to begin cooking but first their predecessors needed to be moved. A two-tiered metal trolley very much like the ones Jennifer had seen used in hotels on TV for room service but at least twice as long so that it was more or less the size of a hospital gurney was wheeled in by two members of the kitchen staff, one man and one woman, who wore black polo-shirts like the servers’ and other public-facing assistants’ pink ones.

Hallie was slumped over the back of the pot, her head and one arm hanging over the side and her chest, with her cute little boobies pointing proudly upwards, was not moving. Flipping out the viewfinder screen on the side of her camera, Jennifer switched it on and did her best to hold it steady as she watched the kitchen workers carefully lift the remains of the carcasses from the carvery, first the spit-roaster who was now just a mostly skeletal torso, the remains of her legs laying separately beside her, and then the oven piggy, and place them on the under-side of the trolley, ready to be taken into the kitchen so the last of their meat could be stripped for use in salads or in gravy and their bones could be boiled for soup or stock.

Once the remains of the roasts were on the trolley, the two assistants picked up two sturdy metal hooks and slipped them under Hallie’s arms, using them to lift her lifeless body out of the boiling stew. It was true her legs were thinner than might otherwise have been expected for a girl of her build and her rump, while still round and cute, was perhaps doughier than those of the roasters and the waiting girls, but she was still going to provide a lot of wonderful meat for the stew once her flesh was stripped from her bones and cubed. Carefully, they laid her on the top part of the trolley then wheeled her out to the kitchen.

The three waiting meat-girls stepped forward, the two roasters stepping up onto small plinths and all gave teasing little twirls for the audience to show off their meat from all angles. By Jennifer’s reckoning, the spit-roaster was the youngest of the three, looking about ten years old, with a body really not too different from her own, with thick, quite muscular thighs and a firm, round rump, solid, toned and meaty in all the right places. The only real difference between this girl’s body and her own, other than the fact that she was a little taller, was was this girl was completely flat-chested other than her perky, pink nipples while Jennifer was rather proud of the way her budding chest pushed out the front of her dress and she liked the way boys and some men had started to notice when she wore tight tops! The girl on the first plinth, being oiled up by the assistant ready for spitting, had long, slightly curly, dirty-blonde hair which was currently in a ponytail but would likely be clipped up in a bun when it was time for her to go over the coals. She certainly had a great body for roasting although, Jennifer thought, she would have been just as good butchered like Sidney herself!

Next was the oven-roaster who was also having her lovely olive skin oiled. This girl, Jennifer estimated, was around twelve years old, or maybe a mature eleven. She was chubbier than her spit-bound friend, with a round belly and a little extra padding around her rump and thighs. She had a pretty, round face with big, dark eyes and cute tits that were as much puppy-fat as actual breast meat. Her hair, so dark brown it was almost black, was long and straight, hanging over her shoulder and covering her lift nipple as the assistant assigned to her oiled her back.

The girl watching eagerly as the assistant tested the temperature of the stew to see if it had cooled enough for her to get in yet was the oldest of the three at about fourteen years old. She was tall and willowy with long legs and very firm, nicely-developed breasts but there was no denying that she was thin, with her ribs, spine and hip-bones quite visible. Although this seemed to be a natural slimness rather than a sign of any illness and she was far from unattractive, her body the kind that many girls and women strived for having been indoctrinated by the fashion industry that it was the ideal of female beauty, there really was not a whole lot of meat on her and the stew pot seemed the only logical place to make her presumed dream come true! Her hair was a very light blonde, shorter than the younger girls’ and already clipped up as if she was ready for a bath.

The young woman in the polo-shirt checked the thermometer and seemed satisfied, nodding at the excited girl with a smile. She then pulled a set of metal steps on wheels up to the side of the pot and pushed the brake on with her foot so that they would stay in place. Holding the assistant’s hand for stability, the sweet-faced teen climbed the steps, swung first one long leg into the stew then the other, wincing a little as she did so but not letting her smile drop then lowered herself in and got comfy, her perky young tits a little higher above the steaming surface than Hallie’s had been. They were so nice and tasty-looking that Jennifer couldn’t help wondering if, once this girl was taken out to be cut up, the chef would keep them back to be served as part of another dish. As she was pondering this, another assistant came out from the kitchen with a large metal container filled with chunks of pink, partially-cooked meat which he poured in around the sitting girl. Jennifer knew that this must be the remains of sweet Hallie’s body and wondered if her cute head would be for sale in the gift shop in a day or two.

A little frustratingly from a cinematography point of view, it seemed that both roasters would be prepped and put on to cook at the same time. Jennifer wondered about trying to keep both in shot but she knew that would make for less interesting viewing so she decided to move the camera back and forth between them. A fresh roasting pan was set on the rollers in front of the oven door which, Jennifer noted, opened from the top rather than one side or the other. The well-oiled oven-roaster carefully sat down in it then lay on her back with her knees bent and legs parted, chatting happily to the assistant who was filling a large piping bag with stuffing. Meanwhile, the spitting frame was rolled forward, it its upright position for the time being, and the spit-roaster left her plinth and climbed up onto it, spreading her feet and hands to the corners so that they could be strapped in. The assistant adjusted the height of the footrests a little so it would bend in the right place then buckled the tight straps. He then had her tilt her head back and fitting a cushioned cup under her chin to make sure the spit had a nice straight path to follow.

Although she couldn’t make out the exact words they exchanged, it was clear that the assistant with the piping bag was asking the oven-roaster if she was ready as the girl smiled, nodded and lay back, lifting her hips with her hands under her rump to present her lovely plump pussy for stuffing. Jennifer zoomed in as the assistant slid the long, oiled, metal nozzle of the piping bag up inside the girl and began to squeeze. As the stuffing filled her uterus, the lower part of her belly began to visible swell. When the bag was empty, the assistant gently and carefully slid it out, advising the rather bloated young girl to squeeze her pelvic muscles together lest the stuffing start leaking out. Putting down the emptied bag for a moment, the assistant took a small, peeled onion and pushed it between the stuffed girl’s meaty lips, plugging the hole. She she refilled the bag, another assistant helped the girl get onto her knees to present her other hole for stuffing and Jennifer turned the camera to the spitting area where the young man was gently lowering the top half of the frame so that the girl strapped to it was bent at the waist, her well-oiled spit-hole exposed and inviting.

She kept the camera trained on the younger girl as the assistant took the clean, greased spit and inserted the business-end into her tight opening. Her eyes went a little wide as the spike worked its way in, stretching her as it went until she was experiencing its full girth. Only when the tip reached her cervix and began forcing its way through did she begin to moan, gasping and groaning in a way which which was just as indicative of pleasure as pain, much to the delight of her audience. A look of surprise and a cute yelp showed that the spit had passed the point of no return and Jennifer turned back to the other girl in time to see the piping bag being carefully drawn out from between her rump cheeks and a rather large scrubbed carrot being pushed in to make sure everything stayed put. Her hair was carefully gathered up on top of her head in a messy bun and pinned in place. Aluminium cable ties were then used to fix her ankles and wrists together and, as a final touch, a cored apple was put in her mouth then the piggy was slid into the oven.

With the oven-roaster now happily cooking, Jennifer turned her attention and the camera back to the spit-roaster. The young girl moaned and squirmed as the thick steel rod was forced deeper and deeper into her delicious young body. There was something so thrilling, Jennifer reflected, about this in-between stage. The girl was not yet fully spitted, not yet cooking, and yet the spit was so far inside her that irreparable damage had already been done. If it was pulled out now, there was no way she could live more than an hour or so. “Dead girl squirming!” Jennifer thought to herself and couldn’t help a little giggle. To assist with the last foot or so, a young woman assistant came and stood in front of the girl, talking soothingly to her and holding her shoulders still. The girl coughed a little as the spike pushed at the back of her throat then received a round of applause from the hungry audience as the spit erupted through her mouth, forcing it open wide and scraping against her teeth as it completed its journey.

Quickly, the young woman wiped down the front of the spit as the young man raised the back half, leaving the girl entirely horizontal as if laying on her stomach on a table, except there was no support beneath her except for at the waist and chin and her body was held straight by the long, steel spit which ran through her. A thinner rod about twelve inches long, mounted on a ring, was slid up the back end of the pole and forced into her secondary spit hole to serve as a stabiliser then locked in place. This, Jennifer knew, was to make sure that the girl’s whole body turned with the spit so that she would cook evenly and that the pole would not just turn inside her. There were various methods of achieving the same result, some involving various spikes and skewers, but this was one of the most popular and certainly the simplest, especially for a fast-paced environment like Sidney’s. A set of rigid cuffs were slid on either end of the spit, locked in place and the girl’s wrists and ankles, released from the straps, locked into them. Finally her hair too was tied up out of the way so that it would not burn as she cooked and she was lifted off the frame and onto the spit-mount where she immediately began to turn over the artificial coals. Jennifer faded out her camera on a shot of the slowly turning, impaled young girl and the young man who had taken the lead in the spitting beckoned to her, inviting her to duck under the rope.

“You’ve got about three minutes while we clear up!” he grinned. “Get some good stills then get yourself to the front of the queue before we open up this area again!” Jennifer did not need to be told twice, quickly switching the camera to take photographs rather than video. She took some lovely, very appetising shots of the girl on the spit from a variety of angles as the meat-girl desperately humped the enormous steel phallus. Jennifer noticed that she was looking at her as she took her pictures and was almost certain that she was trying to smile for her around the spit. The teen in the pot left no room for doubt as she struck a number of different poses for the young journalist, some goofy, some provocative and pretty much every mood in between, giggling and clearly enjoying this last opportunity to show off. One of the young woman even opened the oven door for Jennifer so that she could get a good shot of the oven piggy’s juicy rump as it began to roast, her plump fillet visible beneath with the onion protruding just a little between her luscious lips.