“You know what always gets me in the mood for dinner?” Peter asked the audience. They leaned forward expectantly. “A song!” He informed them with a grin.

“You know what’s even better than a song, Peter?” Melanie asked, stepping in to form a double-act with her only surviving cast-member, or the only one who was in any position to still be putting on a performance, anyway.

“No!” Peter exclaimed. “What?”

“A song with a dance!” Melanie declared. “Come on, boys and girls,” she made encouraging hang gestures, “let me teach you one of our pirate songs!” The children and most of the parents all enthusiastically scrambled to their feet and pre-recorded music began to play. Melanie and Peter performed a short ditty, complete with easily-repeatable actions which they encouraged the children to copy, about going on an adventure across the seven seas, waving at mermaids, digging for treasure and running from crocodiles. Once they had performed it all through once, they encouraged the children to join in and sing it with them, then another repeat.

Of course this song was far more than just a time-filler. It was a noisy distraction while Miranda fried in the now searingly hot oil, her inevitable screams muffled considerably by the apple in her mouth but not entirely silenced. The loud singing all around them meant that none of the children heard anything amiss and they were all so focussed on the actions that none of them were paying attention to the alarm or panic on her face.

Stuck firmly inside the cannon, the upright cooking device that she had willingly, even enthusiastically entered, Miranda struggled to break free. Just like Maria in the water tank, her body simply refused to calmly accept its fate and fought futilely for escape. Her arms were too firmly pinned against her sides, the tube too narrow to bend her knees enough to lift her feet, the hot, oily metal pressing hard against her shoulders, hips and rump. The oil seemed to be getting even hotter until she was sure that she could bear it no more than suddenly, in an instant, the pain was gone!

Although she had been told to expect this, Miranda had not really believed that it was possible but now she felt it. Or rather, she didn’t! The nerve-endings in her skin had been destroyed, killed by the intense heat! She could still feel the warmth working its way in through her muscles like the deep-heat cream she sometimes used after ballet practice but there was no pain. Sighing with relief, she realised that she would never, ever feel pain again! She relaxed, the tightness of her oil-filled prison holding her upright with no effort required on her own part.

Something smelled really good! Like cinema hot-dogs! With a flash of amusement, she realised that it was her! Her own lovely body that she had worked so hard to train and maintain turning rather rapidly to food from the neck down. With another sigh, or as close to a sigh as she could manage around the apple, but of contentment this time, she closed her eyes to enjoy her final minute or so of blissful, cosy, comforting warmth, thinking how much all the boys and girls who she had entertained would enjoy her meat and it was with that thought still fresh in her mind that Tinkerbelle flew away to Neverland.

“Wow, wasn’t that fun, boy and girls?” Peter asked as the final repetition of the song came to an end. “I’ve definitely worked up a big appetite now!”

“Good thing dinner’s ready!” Smee announced with a chuckle, pushing in a long serving trolley with Tiger-Lilly served on in, laying face down on a bed of rice with salad all around, her vulva and nipples displayed in front of her face which looked straight forward, her chin propped up by the rice, and small pieces of belly-meat laid out by her sides.

Behind him, another pirate was pushing a second trolley which held a platter, the contents of which were divided into four – there were French-fries, potato wedges, curly-fries and nacho-chips, each occupying a quarter of the platter, with pots of ketchup, mayonnaise and various other sauces and dips around the edge.

Other pirates turned Long Tom around again then unclipped the spitting bench, pulling it out on a hinged mechanism then setting it so that the huge gun barrel could rest on it. The pump had been turned off during the final verse and all the oil pooled in the bottom, other than the residue which clung to the inner walls and to the meat. As the cannon way laid down flat, the other way up from how it had first been presented and leaving Tinkerbelle facing upwards, the oil drained away through a concealed pipe into a reservoir within the base. They then opened the top of the cannon, releasing a cloud of delicious-smelling oil-smoke, and used long hooks to lift the crispy, fried fairy out of the barrel and slide her onto the platter. With both perfectly-cooked girls now served up, Tiger-Lilly’s meat still delightfully hot, paper plates were handed out to the children and they were invited to line up to receive their treats.

Of course the birthday boy was first in line and he received the plump fillets of both girls, plus thick, juicy slices of Tiger-Lilly rump and Tinkerbelle thigh, all served up in burger buns, with as many potato-snacks and chips as he could cram onto the plate around them.


To be continued...