While Laura worked on Samantha’s right leg, Josh scooped some more butter and spread it thickly over her sweet, budding tits, making her gasp and moan softly as he lightly pinched her nipples then ran his thumbs over them.

“Do want these drying out, do we?” he grinned, making her giggled.

“Don’t forget my fillet!” Samantha reminded him as the others worked their way down toward her feet.

“As if I could!” grinned Josh, taking some more butter and slathering it on to her plump vulva, using his fingers to make sure plenty went inside too and pinching her buttery clit between thumb and forefinger. Gently teasing and rubbing, he watched with satisfaction as he cheeks turned pink and her breathing became rapid until finally she gave a series of happy little squeaks. “Consider that a parting gift!” he grinned, leaning down to kiss her cheek then heading over to the sink to wash his hands, thinking that at least some photographs of this stage of the process should be taken.

“Smile for the camera, turkey!” he chuckled and Samantha turned her head, pulling a cheesy grin and both Laura and Amelia paused their buttering to look up and pose. Josh walked around the kitchen to take pictures from a few more angles as the buttered Samantha’s arms and back.

“Hope you’re getting some good shots of Amelia’s butt?” Samantha teased, prompting her friend to turn and wiggle her exposed backside to the camera.

“Well it would be rude not to!” chuckled Josh, snapping a couple of pictures.

“Okay turkey!” Laura instructed, amused at the way both girls were still teasing and flirting with her husband while one of them was being prepared for the oven. “Let’s have you on your hands and knees. That will be a good position for gutting too!” Obediently, needing a little help due her slippery, well-buttered limbs, Samantha turned around and got onto all fours, presenting her meaty rump for buttering.

“Hope you’re capturing my best side, Daddy?” she giggled, wiggling provocatively. Josh assured her that he was getting great shots from every angle and, accompanied by the sounds of stopping and starting music as well as laughter and cheers from the main hall, making it clear that the games were going well and that everyone was having fun, Amelia slathered the soft butter over the thick, round, juicy meat.

“This is gonna roast up so nicely!” Amelia assured her as a genuine compliment, massaging and squeezing her friend’s rump, making sure that no part was left butter-free, even adding some more to her lovely fillet, now that it was even more exposed. Seeing her mum pick up a long, sharp knife ready to begin the gutting process jogged Samantha’s memory.

“Wait!” she exclaimed, remembering a question she had from the day before yesterday which had been forgotten in all the subsequent excitement. “Before you do anything that might make me pass out and I never get to know, why was it funny that the butcher called his big knife Norman?” Amelia looked curious too, also having been pondering this but, like Samantha, never getting around to asking while it was on her mind and forgetting by the next time she could have done.

“Oh yeah!” Josh chuckled, putting down the camera for a moment and taking out his phone so that he could look up pictures for them. “There was a famous horror movie from the sixties called Psycho. They made several sequels of it too and there was a TV series when I was about your age, maybe a little bit older. Anyway, the killer in that was called Norman and he used a big knife just like the one the butcher used on Emily.”

“That’s a kinda dorky name for a scary killer!” Amelia giggled. “It’s hard to feel scared of someone called Norman!”

“I think that was the point!” Josh observed, turning his phone around to show pictures of a handsome but unassuming young man. “He was supposed to seem safe and harmless. Throughout the first movie, you’re supposed to think his crazy, jealous old mother is the killer,” he showed a picture of the silhouetted killer from the infamous shower scene, “but right at the end we find out that Norman killed her years ago and developed a sort of split personality from the guilt so he’s really two people, nice Normal and crazy psycho Mother!”

“Sounds kinda cool.” Amelia nodded. “Maybe we can watch it together some time?”

“Sounds good!” Josh smiled. “So anyway, now you know!”

“Indeed!” Samantha giggled. “I can die happy now!”

“Glad to hear that!” Laura chuckled, fetching a washing up bowl and putting it on the end of the table, between Samantha’s legs, ready to collect her viscera as it was pulled out. “Now, you know I’ve only done this once?” she reminded her. “But it does seem fairly straight forward.” She went to the freezer and popped out an ice cube. “Now, we don’t have any of the numbing cream they were using at the butcher’s,” she explained apologetically, “so we’re going to need to use this instead.” She pushed the ice cube as deep as she could between her daughter’s buttery cheeks and into her tight little ass hole. “Squeeze it as tight as you can!”

“Clench like you’re on the bus and had burritos for lunch!” Amelia giggled and Samantha, giggling with her, tensed and squeezed her meaty buttocks together, causing cute little dimples to appear either side. Josh, of course, made sure to record this moment for posterity and Laura gently guided Amelia around to the other end so that she could talk to Samantha while she worked, ideally keeping her distracted from what was happening but at least able to comfort her if needed.

“Okay, how does it feel?” Laura asked. “Has it stopped burning?”

“I think so,” Samantha replied thoughtfully. “I can’t really feel it any more, anyway.”

“That’s good.” Laura nodded, realising she would have to work quickly as the numbing from the ice cube was likely to wear off far quicker than the cream. “And relax!” she instructed, holding out her hand to catch the now much smaller ice cube as Samantha unclenched. She took it over to the sink, dropped it in then washed her hands quickly to get rid of the last of the butter, not wanting to knife to be slippery in her hand while she worked.

Picking up the knife, Laura fought the urge to ask if Samantha was really sure about what they were about to do. Even now, if she wanted, she could simply get down off the table, wash off the butter and go back to living her life which go on for another seven, eight or even nine times its current length, but once the gutting began, there would be no going back. Yet she knew that her daughter had absolutely no intention of changing her mind, of letting down all the people who had gathered and were waiting with excitement to enjoy her meat! This was something Samantha had wanted so badly, had pushed and practically pleaded for and had put so much effort into making sure the day was a success. Still, Laura’s maternal instincts would not allow her to inflict what was effectively a fatal wound on her daughter without at least checking in some way first that she was really sure.

“Can you feel this?” she asked, poking the tip of the knife into the tender skin at the edge of her anus, pressing hard enough to draw a drop of blood as she tried to think of a way to phrase that all important final question in a way that would not annoy her eager meat-girl of a daughter.

“I can feel poking.” Samantha replied truthfully. “But it doesn’t hurt. Are you using the knife?” Laura confirmed that she was. “It just feels like your finger.” Samantha told her. “I’d say we’re good to go!”

“So,” Laura asked, grinning to try to keep her voice sounding cheerful and upbeat, having decided on a question that was safe to ask without upsetting Samantha but that would also satisfy her own need to be certain of her daughter’s wishes, “ready for the point of no return?”

This was a term she had heard used in many discussions about meat-girls, especially to do with live cooking. The point of no return was generally understood to mean the point in the process beyond which the girl could not, or was at least very unlikely to survive even if she were to change her mind, the point at which those preparing her could, in theory at least, ignore her protests with a clear conscience since she was, in theory, already dead and not to continue with cooking her at that point would simply be a waste. For spit-roasters, the point of no return was considered to be when the tip of the spit pierced her uterus and entered her body cavity, resulting in almost certainly fatal internal bleeding and likely further organ damage as it made its way up towards her throat. For girls who were boiled, it was when they were scalded to the level of what amounted to third degree burns over their entire bodies, or at least from the neck and shoulders down, which destroyed the nerve endings in their skin, meaning that they did not feel any further pain as they continued to cook, but which was also nearly impossible to survive.

For oven-roasters it could be a little harder to pin down, especially as not all were gutted before going in the oven. Some took it it be the same as boilers, when their skin was too badly burned to have any hope of recovery, while others considered it any act that would likely require surgical intervention to reverse, such as the stuffing only of existing cavities like the girls had witnessed at Sidney’s but generally it was accepted to mean when the girl passed out from the heat as she inevitably did long before any fatal tissue damage occurred. In the case of girls who were gutted first, whether carefully like Samantha was about to be or with their bellies opened up then stitched back together when their internal organs had been replaced with stuffing, it was a much easier call to make!

“I am indeed!” Samantha giggled, wiggling her rump again. “Make sure Daddy gets lots of pictures! Go for it!”

“This is so cool!” Amelia grinned at her friend, eyes sparkling with excitement as Laura began to cut around her cute, pink ass hole. “You’re really doing it!” With the way she was posed, knees quite far apart, Samantha’s buttery buttocks were naturally spread and did not need to be pulled apart for access. “How does it feel?”

“Kind weird,” Samantha admitted, “but it doesn’t hurt. Just feels like someone’s poking all around my butt!”

“Hunting for buried treasure, maybe?” Amelia giggled, wondering how she would feel when the secondary spit, the much shorter, thinner pole with the rounded end was forced up her own tight little bottom to keep her from slipping around as she turned over the coals. The girls continued to giggle together, chatting happily, as Laura used the end of the knife to lever Samantha’s anus out and began to gently tug on the ropey intestines to which it was attached.

“What about now?” Amelia asked, intrigued, looking over her friend’s back to see the almost comical sight of her mother tugging an apparently endless grey-pink tube out of her backside. “What do you feel?”

“Like I’m doing a massive poop!” Samantha giggled. “One that just keeps going!”

“Aah but those are the best kind!” Amelia reminded her with a cheeky grin. “I love the satisfying, empty feeling after those ones!”

“Well I’m definitely gonna feel empty after this!” Samantha giggled, shuddering a little as Laura began to tug a little harder. “Until you fill me back up, that is! Hey, Mummy?” she turned her head and spoke with some discomfort, mild enough that it could not really be described as pain but serious enough to be an annoyance. “I think you’re gonna have to make the hole bigger! Whatever’s got stuck there doesn’t want to come out without a fight!” Well prepared for this moment from her practice run with Zahra but never the less grateful for her daughter’s cooperation, Laura picked up the knife again and carefully cut an inch or so in each direction, up and down, widening the hole large enough for Samantha’s organs and other bulky viscera to be carefully squeezed out through.

“What’s going to happen to all that?” Samantha asked with curiosity, seeing the surprisingly colourful mass of innards building up in the bowl.

“I’m going to make a nice liver pate for this evening.” Laura smiled as she continued to work. “Then see if anyone wants to take any home for their pets, or to put out for the foxes in their gardens. What doesn’t get taken can just go in the green bin-bags. I should probably keep the kidneys for something too,” she observed, “I hear those can be really tasty when fried!”

“You know, I heard a cool fact about intestines!” Josh piped up as she moved around to snap pictures of Samantha from various angles. “Did you know,” he continued as all three of the others turned to look at him curiously, “if you took all your intestines and others parts of your digestive tract and laid them out end to end…” he paused for dramatic effect, “you would die?” His wife, daughter and cheeky little concubine all collectively groaned, rolling their eyes but their curling lips betrayed their amusement. “Sorry,” Josh chuckled, “couldn’t resist the opportunity for one last dad-joke!”

“This is what Rob and Amanda have to look forward to!” Samantha observed to Amelia, her body jolting slightly as Laura came close to the end of what she could be able to pull out. “Think we should warn them to run while they still have the chance?” The girls both giggled but Samantha’s giggle quickly turned to a cough as Laura continued to tug. Recognising this as the sign that she had pulled out all that she would be able to, she quickly cut the sinewy tube as close to the hole as she could and tucked the rest inside.

“There!” she smiled, satisfied. “You did so well! How are you feeling?”

“Weird…” Samantha admitted. “And kinda cold.”

“That’s your body going into shock, I’m afraid.” Laura explained. “Even ‘though you’re perfectly willing, your body can feel you’ve been attacked and badly wounded so it’s responding accordingly. Don’t worry!” she grinned, giving her daughter a pat on the rump then tracing the outline of her meat-stamp with her finger. “We’ll have you in the oven soon enough, then you won’t have to worry about being cold any more! Relax for a minute if you can,” she suggested, “I just have a little cleaning up to do back here then we can get on with the stuffing.”

To be continued...