The birthday girl and her guests watched with curiosity as the Walrus and Carpenter fetched two smaller cauldrons, the same basic design as the one in which the Mock Turtle and oyster soup was being made but much smaller, around the size of a normal saucepan. When they set them down, one in front of each of the lobsters, the children saw that they were filled with fluffy marshmallows but instead of being a mix of white and pink, they were instead white and red in keeping with the “painted” rose-bushes.

“The crispy lobsters are sure to be quite delicious!” Gemma proclaimed confidently. “But they would be even better stuffed! Perhaps some of you would like to help stuff the lobsters? Your majesty,” she gave another curtsey then held out her hand to Strawberry, “perhaps you would be first?” Eagerly, the little girl hopped down off her throne and came forward, intrigued to see what she needed to do. She knew that meat-girls were sometimes stuffed either prior to or during their cooking but that usually involved cutting them open and she did not see any sort of knife or other equipment to hand. Instead, as she got close, the two lobster girls opened their mouths wide.

“If it please your majesty,” Gemma explained, “please place a marshmallow in each of their mouths.” Strawberry did so and expected the girls to start to eat them but they just remained with their mouths wide open, the marshmallows sitting on their tongues. “Very good, your majesty! Now if your subjects would like to take turns, we need as many marshmallows in each lobster’s mouth as possible until no more could possibly be fit in!” Giggling and thrilled at this chance for a little interaction, the young party guests quickly formed two lines, one in front of each kneeling teen, and took it in turns to push the fluffy sweets into their mouths, a task which grew more challenging with each addition but the extra challenge only made the guests more determined, considering this to be a fun party game and none of them wanting to be the one who failed.

For the adults watching, however, the purpose of this “stuffing” was clear! However willing and compliant a meat-girl might be, being deep-fried in boiling vegetable oil involved at least ten seconds of the most intense pain imaginable and the marshmallows stuffed into their mouths acted as a gag to keep their screams from being audible. Although four girls not too much older than themselves would be dying in front of them, the performance and subsequent meal was supposed to be fun for the young party guests and screams of pain from the cooking lobsters might be something that many of them could find distressing or upsetting.

While the children worked diligently, watched over by the costumed characters, the soldiers with the heavy gloves fetched two long trolleys on wheels, a little like those used in hospitals for transporting patients except that these had long silver platters on tops with pretty, bevelled edges giving them an elegant Victorian or Edwardian look which was very much in keeping with the theme of the party. On these platters was a bed of lettuce and other decorative salad, in the middle of which was a heap of steamed white and brown rice.

Once there was no way any more marshmallows could be forced into the over-stuffed and aching mouths of the red-stained teens, the children returned to their seats and the lobster girls were helped to their feet, keeping their mouths clothes and trying to smile with their cheeks filled to near bursting. Obediently, they stood with their feet together and their arms close by their sides. The gloved soldiers collected a number of long, thin metal strips, each about half an inch wide, which it quickly became evident were giant cable-ties. The soldiers put one around the waists of each of the girls, pinning their wrists to their sides, then one higher up just below their cute little breasts, another around their thighs and finally around their ankles. Although they could not help wincing slightly as the straps were pulled tight, the girls kept their calm composure and continued to smile as they were prepared for the fryers.

When they were suitably secured, they were picked up by two of the heavy-gloved soldiers each, carried facing upwards with one man holding their shoulders and the other their feet. With the gleeful, hungry audience watching in delight, they were carried over to the smoking baths of boiling oil and then, in a quick motion, plunged in. The soldiers then changed the position of their hands, the purpose of the gloves now clear, to hold the girls down beneath the surface.

Not wanting the experience to be any more torturous than it needed to be, the soldiers had not held Becky and Andrea over the oil for any more than a second before submerging them but even in that time, they had felt the stinging, blistering heat on their backs and realised what they were in for. For a second as she was plunged in, all Becky could think was that the oil felt thinner than she had expected, just like water really, rather than the viscous gloop she had imagined. But then the pain hit, like sunburn all over but a thousand times more intense. Involuntarily she thrashed and struggled, fortunately unseen by anyone except the costumed caterer holding her down, unable to keep her body from fighting. She screamed but of course no sound came out, just a low hum resonating around her skull. One or two marshmallows popped out and bobbed to the surface before quickly melting and dissipating in the oil.

Just when she thought she could not possibly tolerate another second, however, the pain stopped, suddenly and abruptly. There was no gentle fading, no build-up of tolerance, it was just gone in an instant as the nerve-endings in her skin were destroyed. Now all she felt was giddy euphoria as her brain flooded itself with endorphins to fight the pain that was no longer there. Her eyes no longer worked, of course, but that was okay! The darkness and silence were comforting, the total lack of any sensation giving her a weightless feeling. Her final thought was of how happy the cute little party guests would be as they enjoyed her meat!

Once they were confident that the girls had stopped moving, the soldiers withdrew their hands. The crispy lobsters would not take long to cook, ten minutes at most, meaning that they would be ready to serve straight after the grand finale while the sweet piggy they were about to slaughter was being parted out for the grill.

“Don’t they smell delicious!” Gemma gushed to the audience. “They are sure to be scrumptious! But now, I fear, it is time for my punishment!” While two of the playing-card soldiers stayed by the fryers to keep an eye on the cooking lobster-girls, the other two removed their protective gloves and carried forward a heavy wooden chopping block by the iron rings in each side. Strawberry squirmed in her seat, beyond excited for the moment that the whole party had really been built around! Her parents, still stood behind her throne, smiled indulgently at their little girl’s happiness.

“Oh but if my head it to be cut off,” Gemma put a hand to her mouth as if realising something alarming while one of the soldiers hammered a tall, black iron pole about an inch thick into the lawn with a heavy mallet a few feet from the chopping block, “then there is sure to be mess and mother would be so cross if I got blood on my nice new dress!” The ripple of giggles showed that the children found this suitably amusing.

“Take it off!” one of the celebrity dads who had perhaps enjoyed a glass of wine or two too many called out, earning him laughter from many of the other parents.

“Why, thank you, my lord.” Gemma improvised gamely while silently wondering to herself if he had really not realised that this was what she planned anyway, or whether he was just exceptionally eager for the strip show! Either was, the confirmation that at least some of the adults in the audience were looking forward to seeing her naked was a pleasant boost to her confidence and she did not intend to disappoint. “That would seem to be the most sensible idea.” As she turned around with her hand to her forehead in the theatrical trope of searching for something or someone, she spotted the team member, a nice, handsome young man named Chris with big muscles and strawberry blonde hair, dressed like the others in a playing card costume but with the extra feature of a black executioner’s hood picking up the axe as checking its heft. She felt a shudder of excitement pass through her lovely young body. There was something so brutal and final about beheading but also so dramatic and theatrical, especially when the one to be executed was naked.

“Dear Hatter!” she called out to Melanie, having “found” her as they rehearsed. “Won’t you come and assist me with my buttons? For I fear that if I must undress myself, it shall take me far too long and the Queen and her guests shall have to wait for breakfast time before having their dinner!” Adults and children alike laughed at this and Melanie came over to assist her final cast-member with her big reveal.

Smiling sweetly at her audience, Gemma stood with her arms out as Melanie first untied the pinafore and sash from around her waist and passed it to one of the solders who stood helpfully with his arms out to act as a human, or playing-card, clothes rack. She then unbuttoned the back of the pretty blue dress and Gemma put her arms up to allow it to be pulled up over her head, built-in petticoat for volume coming with it. Rather than having nothing on underneath as many of the audience had expected, she was wearing a white vest and pair of lacy bloomers above her black and white striped stockings and shiny white leather shoes.

The tingle of excitement between her legs building, knowing that she was about to be exposed, Gemma put her arms up again and Melanie pulled off her white vest with the white ribbon trim and little bow at the neck-line, exposing her toned belly and sweet chest which, like Tania’s, had not yet truly began to develop yet had a convex softness to it, her pale pink nipples which were normally puffy anyway now incredibly perky from the excitement. There was applause and some appreciative whistling as her bare chest was exposed.

Rather than having her sit down to take off her shoes and stockings, Melanie walked around to the front, being careful not to block anyone’s view of the half-naked Alice performer, as one of the soldiers picked the young girl up under her arms, holding her in the air and she extended her left foot so that Melanie, as the Hatter, could remove her shoe and stocking. Taking a moment to earn a little comedic appreciation of her own, Melanie sniffed at the inside of the shoe and reacted as if it was vile, to which Gemma looked suitably indigent while the children laughed their cute little heads off. Soon her second shoe and stocking were off and she was set back down in her bare feet on the grass.

“There!” Gemma declared, now in nothing more than her bloomers. “Surely this should be enough, do you not think?”

“Nooo!” called out the young audience in unison as if at a pantomime.

“Really?” Gemma tilted her head quizzically. “You don’t think I should keep my knickers on to have my head cut off?”

“NOOO!” came the laughing response, even louder and more adamant this time.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “So I should take them off?” This was met with resounding and enthusiastic agreement. “But surely,” she mused, “it is terribly bad manners to show one’s bottom to the Queen?” The children in the audience practically fell about laughing and Melanie felt proud for having picked such a pretty, confident and engaging young performer for this pivotal role, not to mention one whose meat would be absolutely delicious. “But perhaps it is best? After all,” Gemma as Alice continued to reflect, “I have never seen a big in bloomers on a farm!” More hysterical laughter from the young audience. “Nor a cow in a nightgown for that matter! And they would be sure to get in the way when the dear butcher cuts me up anyway. What do you say, your majesty?” She addressed Strawberry directly. “May I have your leave to take my knickers off?”

“Yes!” cried the little Queen gleefully. “Off with your knickers then off with your head!”

“Very good, your majesty!” Gemma gave another polite curtsey, pulling out the side of her rather voluminous bloomers since she no longer wore her dress. “I think a girl of my age should be able to manage these by herself!” she chastised herself in character as she tugged at the bow which kept the ribbon around her waist tight. It came loose and she pulled out the waistband with her thumbs before letting go and allowing them to fall to the ground, leaving her completely naked and exposed to the cheering and applauding crowd. The tingle between her legs had grown to a throbbing and she longed to be able to relieve herself but knew that it was not possible. Stepping out of the crumpled underwear, she turned around with her back to the audience, something forbidden in theatre except in the most extreme of circumstances, and made a show of bending over to pick them up, ensuring that everyone got a great view of exactly what was on the menu!

Once the underwear had been handed to him, the soldier who had been acting as clothes-rack took the costume away and Chris, with his executioner’s axe, stepped forward along with another playing-card carrying a drum who tapped out an ominous rhythm and one more who held several lengths of rope.

“Oh yes! Don’t forget to tie my hands and feet!” Gemma reminded her executioners sweetly as approached the block. “I have heard that sometimes when a chicken gets their head cut off, they run around in circles for minutes afterwards, and I should not like to create a mess or put you to such an inconvenience! Of course,” she mused, remaining solidly in character as her hands were tied behind her back, “a girl is not the same thing as a chicken but one can never be too careful!” Although in reality there was no chance of a headless girl getting up and running around, a recently-beheaded body could thrash and flail and the nerves responded to the sudden cut-off of instructions from the brain so securing her limbs was a sensible, practical precaution. With her ankles tied together, Gemma, completely naked apart from her Alice-band, hopped rather comically to behind the block where the solder who had tied her helped her sink to her knees and place her neck on the block, her chin resting in the carved-out groove.

“I fear, my lords and ladies,” she addressed the costumed children directly in front of her, “that you may find yourselves in the splash zone and may get a little messy when my head comes off!” Of course there was not a single one of the parents present who could not afford to replace their child’s costume without blinking but it still seemed courteous to issue a warning. The last thing anyone wanted was for complaints to be made later about children being upset by getting blood on their clothes or faces. “If you don’t want to get any of my blood on your fine clothes, you may prefer to move a little further back?”

One or two did look a little hesitant and retreat back to their parents but far more surged forward, trying to ensure that they were in the splash-zone just as if they were about to watch performing dolphins at a theme park rather than see a little girl get her head cut off and potentially get sprayed with her blood! Still, the warning had been given, a clear warning that would serve as a disclaimer if anyone should try to raise the issue later and certainly none of the parents were coming forward to pull their children out of the way so it seemed safe to continue.

“Perhaps, if it please your majesty,” Gemma invited, unable to hold out her hand this time but seeing Julie and Melanie both heading over to escort the excited young birthday girl, “you would like to come forward to give the order?”

Just as before when invited to help stuff the lobsters, Strawberry jumped down from her throne and allowed herself to be escorted forwards, holding hands with both costumed adults. She stood beside the chopping block at which the naked ten year old knelt for the best view and the drummer switched from his slow, ominous rhythm to a dramatic drum-roll as the executioner raised his axe high, ready to bring it down with full force. The drumming stopped and the a second or two there was total silence then came the bellowed order:

“OFF WITH HER HEAD!”


To be continued...