As promised, at 3:15 that afternoon, Josh was waiting at the edge of the school playground, generating a little curiosity from some of the other parents as he was not among the usual faces they saw at pick-up time but equally he was familiar enough from school fairs, concerts, parents’ evenings and end of year assemblies that his presence did not arouse any suspicion. When Samantha emerged from on of the doors with three of her friends, rucksack over her shoulder, she was clearly looking for him. He waved and her face broke into a broad grin and she ran to him so fast, without any hint of slowing as she got close, that Josh was worried for a moment that he might be bowled over on impact!

Instead, she jumped up, wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and gave him a long, almost passionate kiss, just as she had when he had confirmed the booking for her. A few parents looked mildly disapproving, especially when, without thinking how it might look, he went to support her with a hand on her rump and his hand went up under her short grey skirt, but most just chuckled or smiled indulgently. After what felt to Josh like a slightly awkward eternity but was really only a couple of seconds, Samantha released her grip and dropped back down onto her feet.

“Somebody’s pleased to see you!” one of the mum’s remarked to Josh with a chuckle.

“Daddy’s taking me to check out the oven where I’m going to roast for Christmas dinner!” Samantha informed her proudly at a loud volume. Josh felt his cheeks burning. Despite knowing, as his wife had repeatedly assured him, that there was nothing illegal about what they were planning, he still felt as if there would be a lot of people who would not approve and he feared the judgement of the other parents if Samantha were to be too free with their holiday plans. He has known they would have to inform the school that she would not be coming back next term and he was well aware that his daughter was not the first girl from the school to end up on the menu but still, this was not how he had expected the announcement to be made and he wished that he and Laura had discussed with Samantha when and how to tell people rather than just assuming she would keep it to herself until they had had that conversation. Time seemed to freeze as he watched the woman’s face. There was a flicker of shock, for sure, or perhaps just surprise, but then she broke into a grin almost as big as Samantha’s.

“Oh wonderful!” she beamed. “I’m sure you’ll be a delicious turkey!”

“Thanks!” Samantha grinned. “Come on, Daddy!” she put her warm little hand in his. “Let’s go!” So just like that, the cat was out of the bag and Josh was sure that every parents in the school would know their Christmas plans by morning. As they walked to the car, he quickly messaged Laura to let her know and to warn her in case she started getting messages about it. She replied quickly, thanking him for letting her know but reminding him they were doing nothing wrong and, if the news had come from Samantha herself, then it would be clear to everyone that she was very keen indeed!

In contrast to their journey a little while earlier where Samantha had sat quietly, contemplating her choice and the consequences that would stem from it, on the journey to the hall she was positively animated, firing questions at her dad faster than he could answer them. Did the hall come with a carving set and all the other cooking tools they needed or did they have to provide their own? Just how long would a girl-turkey like her take to cook? What would the best way be to stuff her so that she could live as long as possible in the oven to enjoy cooking but without compromising the quality of her meat? Any many others besides. To most of these questions, Josh provided the same, honest answer – that he didn’t know but would be sure to find out!

In less than half an hour they arrived at the hall and Samantha peered with awe through the window at the building where the final hours of her life would take place. It was a sweet, unassuming building from the outside, some parts plastered over and painted white with other parts, mostly at either end, left with the very pretty red brickwork visible. It reminded Samantha of a much smaller version of her school and had probably been built around the same time, some time between the late 1930s and early 1950s although parts had clearly been added to and modernised over the years. While it has once likely been the hub of a small community, it now stood alone on a patch of green, adjacent to a small car park. The small terraced houses that had once surrounded it had been torn down in favour of new-build housing estates and the hall stood alone as silent testimony to the past.

Of course if the trust or council who managed a building like this wanted it to be preserved, they had essentially two choices. Either to convert the inside to living accommodation that could be rented out to tourists to to make the it appealing enough with enough amenities that plenty of people would want to book it for their parties or other events. While it was theoretically available to be booked by any individual or group who wanted it, this particular hall had found its niche by providing facilities suitable for cooking girls and young woman for people who would likely not have these facilities at home, offering a more reasonable and affordable alternative to hotels and professional catering companies and a far less complicated arrangement than would be involved in hiring such equipment for home use. The roasting pit and outdoor stew pot were not visible from the road but Samantha knew from the photographs Josh had shown her that these were behind the building on patio area shielded from view of most of the nearby houses by a row of well-maintained pine trees which fenced off a small garden area separate from the rest of the green.

“Well, here we are!” Josh smiled, pulling into a space close to but not right up against the only other car in the car-park, a maroon Volvo estate with a lawnmower in the back. “That has to be the caretaker!” he chuckled. “So,” he turned to grin at Samantha, “what do you think?”

“Looks cute!” the young blonde nodded approvingly. “But I really wanna see what’s inside!”

“Well let’s go!” Josh chuckled, unclipping his seat belt. Samantha was half way across the car-park before he had managed to lock the car but with his longer legs he quickly caught up with her. “Don’t forget your camera!” Samantha reminded him and, admitting that he had, Josh ran back to the car and collected it from the back seat, joining her again at the front of the building. The glass double-doors which constituted the main entrance seemed to be locked and the lights in the entrance lobby were off so they walked around the side of the building, looking for another entrance. On the gate which led to the enclosed garden area, they saw a hand-written note scribbled on the back of an envelope and stuck with a slightly rusty drawing pin to the gate, alongside a few others, some of which were well and truly embedded. It read “In the kitchen. Come around.” Samantha tried the latch of the gate and found it unlocked.

On the patio they found themselves walking onto were two large objects, one a squat cylinder and the other a long prism. She knew exactly what these must be and was a little disappointed that they were covered over with heavy-duty tarpaulins but she understood that they needed to be kept clean, dry and safe from the elements. Besides, as intriguing as they were, it was not them she had come to see. Just beyond these covered objects was a door. Going ahead this time which Samantha hung back to gaze at the mysterious cooking equipment, wondering how many girls had made use of them since they were installed, Josh tried the handle and the door opened for him just as easily as the gate had.

“Hello?” he called through the door which did not open directly onto the kitchen as they had expected but into a gloomy corridor where the toilets were located. The walls were decorated with the typical photographs of community groups, a banner from the Women’s Institute while a fire extinguisher on the end wall of the corridor where it seemed to bend around to the right.

“Oh hello!” a door on the left-hand side of the corridor opened and bespectacled man in his late sixties or early seventies leaned his care-worn face out into the corridor to greet them. “I’m in here! Mr Martin?”

“That’s right,” Josh smiled, stepping inside and ushering his daughter in front of him, “and this is Samantha, she’s the one who is very keen to see the oven!”

“I see!” the man gave a slight chuckle, stepping out into the corridor and revealing himself to look exactly how Josh had imagined the caretaker of a village hall like this would look, stooped and tired-looking yet with an officious air about him, dressed in slightly grubby slacks that had likely been his “best” at some point but had gradually been downgraded with age, along with an olive green parker which was clearly far older than Samantha and could well predate Josh as well. “Well you’d better come through! I’m Mr Jenkins.” He shook hands rather formally with both of them then ushered them in and Samantha got her first proper look at the kitchen.

It was surprisingly modern, given the overall quaintness of the building, yet had been designed to maintain a degree of rustic charm. The work surface which ran along one wall as well as the island in the middle of the room had thick wooden worktops and the fronts of the cupboards and doors matched. The first thing she realised was that she needn’t have worried about the size of the oven – it was huge! In fact, Samantha felt quite confident that it could accommodate two girls her size reasonably comfortably as long as they did not mind snuggling up close together. Not that she had any intention of sharing the oven, or her spotlight, with anyone else! On top was a gas hob with six burners of assorted sizes and an electric hot-plate like the ones she had seen breakfast being cooked on in American diners on TV. Rushing over to it, she caressed the glass door lovingly and stroked the handle in a way that could only be described as sensuous.

“Roasting trays are in the tall cabinet,” Mr Jenkins explained in his slightly gruff but not unfriendly voice, “other pots and pans in the bottom cupboards,” he pointed, “all the usual stuff in the drawers. We’ve got plates, bowls, tumblers, wineglasses and cutlery for up to a hundred people.” He opened one of the upper cabinets as if to prove this. “Tea and coffee pots,” he opened another cupboard, showing off its contents as if it were all his own personal work, “cups and saucers. How many have you got coming?”

“Oh, we’re not entirely sure yet.” Josh admitted, but probably less than twenty.” Mr Jenkins gave an approving snort and scratched the end of his nose. “Depends how people respond to the invitations and if there’s any last-minute additions.”

“Well you shouldn’t have any shortage then.” the caretaker nodded with a hint of pride. “Feel free to use whatever you need and just let us know if there’s any breakages. We’re not ogres, we know accidents happen, but we do need to know so we can restock if necessary.” Josh nodded his understanding. Samantha had opened the front of the oven and was kneeling down, peering in and stroking the stainless steel interior looking to her father like a modern-day Gretel, about to be pushed in by the wicked witch. Although unlike Gretel, of course, he knew that when Samantha’s time came she would go into the oven very willingly indeed. No pushing or trickery required.

“When you’re done,” Mr Jenkins continued, “we ask that you take down any decorations, put any furniture you’ve used back where you found it and sweep the floor of the hall but please just leave all the dirty dishes and cooking equipment in here. We have an industrial dishwasher,” he patted the other large, stainless steel cabinet which was a similar size to the oven but taller than it was wide, unlike the oven which was oriented the other way. “It’s a bit tricky so we ask our guests not to try to use it. That’s all taken care of in the hiring fee.”

“Hear that, Daddy?” Samantha stood up with a grin. “No washing up on Christmas Day! Even better, huh?”

“I might have a hard time convincing my mother!” Josh chuckled. “But thank you! We’ll do our best to at least leave things neat in here.” Mr Jenkins gave another of his tersely approving nods.

“You wanted to have a proper look at the oven?” he reminded them. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be sweeping the hall. Come through once you’re done and I’ll give you the rest of the grand tour!” He gave a small chuckle as if he found this description incredibly humorous then left the kitchen, closing the door behind him. He left the door slightly ajar but Samantha rushed up behind him, pushing it closed and giggling as she leant up against it.

“Get one of the trays out, Daddy!” she grinned. “A nice comfy-looking one!” She knelt down beside the oven again as Josh opened the cupboard they had been shown and pulled out one of four roasting pans. It was about six inches deep and had a thick lip about two inches all around the edge. “Look, Daddy.” Samantha fingered one of the grooves in the side of the oven. “It slides in here. Looks like you can put more than one in if there’s not enough space around me to cook the potatoes and everything else. Despite its size, Josh found the pan surprisingly light and knew even when fully loaded, he and his wife would be able to lift it with ease. For the purposes of the test, however, he would put it into the oven empty and let Samantha climb in. As he knelt down, she stood up to move out of his way. When he stood up himself and turned around to look for her he saw that she had kicked off her shiny black school shoes and was unzipping her grey skirt.

“What?” she looked over at him with a giggle. “Don’t want to get my uniform mucky, do I?” Josh was about to point out that both the inside of the oven and the roasting pan he had just inserted seemed incredibly clean but he knew there was no point in arguing. Besides, he had also promised to take pictures of her for the invitation and she could hardly pose for those in her school uniform. Stepping out of her skirt, Samantha picked it up and looked around for a moment as if wondering where to put it. Josh held out his hand to collect it from her and she gratefully passed it to him, followed quickly by her blue sweatshirt and white polo-shirt which he hung over his arm. Her training bra was next, revealing those cute little buds that he could not help thinking looked incredibly appetising. As she pulled down her tights and panties together, her thumbs hooked in the elastic rims, Josh was shocked to realise just how much he was looking forward to eating his young daughter and how deliciously appealing he found her naked body to look at.

With his arms full of her clothes, Josh watching with fascination as Samantha climbed into the oven, wriggled onto her back and folded herself into a decent approximation of “turkey pose”.

“Close the door, Daddy!” she pleased, biting her lip with excitement. “And please turn it on real low, just so I can feel what it’s like!”

“Oh I don’t know if…” Josh began to protest but she hit him with the puppy-dog eyes they both knew he was powerless to resist. “Well okay, but just for a couple of minutes, okay?” He put the bundle of clothes down on the island and lifted the fold-down oven door, pushing it until he heard a click. Samantha gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up through the tinted glass window and he fiddled with the controls, hearing a slight hum as it came to life, an orange glow beginning to emanate from within. Even on the very lowest possible setting, he wasn’t comfortable leaving Samantha in there for long and kept a constant eye on her for any signs of distress. Quite to the contrary, however, she seemed to be having the time of her life and was shamelessly pleasuring herself with her fingers between her legs while she imagined herself roasting. Torn between wanting to let her finish and the desire to keep her safe, for the time being at least, Josh waited until he heard her give a first yelp of pleasure then pulled the door open and turned the knob to kill the heat.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, kneeling down to assist her in getting out, “but if I let you roast all the way today, we’d have nothing to serve at Christmas!” She giggled at this and clambered out, looking a little pink but no more worse for wear. “So,” Josh asked as she stood and stretched as contentedly as if she had just got out of a nice, warm bath, “do you approve?”

“Very much so!” she grinned then surprised him with another hug, a tight one with genuine loving affection. “Thank you so much for letting me do this, Daddy!” she beamed up at him, her chin against his chest. “You really are the best!”

“I’m glad you think so!” he chuckled. “Now, how do you want to do these photos?” Samantha stepped back and pondered for a moment.

“Put the pay on the counter, here,” she patted the wooden work-surface of the island, “and I can lay in it, then you can take a picture from above. That should make for a nice view and show everyone what’s on the menu!” Josh agreed that this was a good idea and moved Samantha’s clothes onto one of the other worktops then carefully pulled the pan out of the oven, finding it warm to the touch but not hot.

“I think you might have to lift me up!” Samantha giggled and Josh obliged, scooping his naked daughter up like he often used to do when she was younger and gently placing her in the pan as tenderly as if he were putting her to bed. The eager young turkey adjusted her hair so that it would fall nicely around her head then bent her knees, lifting her legs and splaying them out slightly. “Should I fold my arms up like this?” she suggested, bending them back on themselves to touch her shoulders.” Or down here, perhaps?” she grabbed the backs of her raised thighs. “I guess I could put them behind my back? I just want the picture to look nice!”

“Put your hands on your chest for me, like this.” he guided them so that her hands rested palms-down, covering her perky young titties.

“Oh Daddy!” she rolled her eyes at him. “You’re not getting all shy again are you? Remember Mummy said it was perfectly okay to take naked pictures of me if it was to show off my meat?”

“I know,” he sighed, thinking of his parents and the others on the guest list, wondering how they would feel about being sent a naked photo of his eleven year old daughter, “but just humour me this once, would you? In fact…” He glanced down at her plump young fillet, the lips slightly open and glistening wet, remembering his wife’s suggesting and thinking he could go one better. “Wait here a minute!” he cautioned her. “I need to go ask Mr Jenkins something.”

“I’ll be here!” Samantha giggled. “Take your time! Just don’t get chatting about model aeroplanes or steam-trains and forget I’m here, will you?” Josh chuckled, promising that he would not, and slipped out of the kitchen in search of the caretaker, wanting to ask his permission before helping himself to something he had seen in the garden, returning less than five minutes later with a small sprig of holly with lush, green leaves and a smattering of blood-red berries. “What’s that for?” Samantha asked, receiving her answer seconds later as he laid it on her vulva, the stem nestling in the groove of her plump slit. “Aren’t you supposed to use a fig-leaf for that?” she teased.

“Probably!” he chuckled, “But this is more festive. Ready?”

“Only if you promise to take some proper pictures afterwards!” Samantha insisted, and by “proper”, Josh knew full well that she meant fully naked with everything on display. Still feeling a little uncomfortable, he conceded and took six photos of her in her relatively modest pose. When he was done, she sat up in the pan, tossing her prickly modesty-aid aside, and asked to see. Josh showed her the pictures on the camera’s back screen and she liked what she saw. “Great!” she grinned, laying back down and flicking her hair out again, lifting and parting her bent legs once more and this time leaving her chest uncovered, opting to put her arms flat by her sides. “Now do the ones I want!” After a flew clicks she adjusted her pose to put her arms folded under her head as if she were sunbathing in the roasting pan.

“Those are awesome, Daddy!” she beamed as she sat up once more and Josh scrolled through the new pictures to show her. “Should we go and finish looking around now?” She climbed out of the pan, hopped down off the counter and headed towards the door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Josh chuckled. Samantha turned, looking genuinely puzzled for a moment before realising that she was still naked.

“Oops!” she giggled. “I guess I’d better get dressed for Mr Jenkins! Don’t want to embarrass him! I just feel so...right like this!” She gave a wistfully happy sigh. “I really do feel like a turkey and I can’t wait to be roasted for real!”

To be continued...