All the clothed girls and their nominated dinner became very animated at this news, surrounding the sisters, congratulating them and asking lots of questions giving Mollie a change not only to get re-dressed for the second time that day but to collect up the forms and total up their scores. It was clear that some teams were more generous in their marking than others with Jessica, for example, receiving a perfect 10 from one team yet only an 8 from another. When all the scores were totalled up and averaged out, however, all three of them came out at either a 9 or a 9.5. Comfortable A-grades!

“Okay!” Mollie clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention once she was ready to continue the tour. “I hope you all enjoyed that little activity? Here’s a little tip for you, something I like to do myself.” she confided to the group. “If any of you are thinking about volunteering or are even just curious, now that you know what we look for, check yourselves out next time you’re in the shower and see what grade you think you would get. If any of you think you might be interested in improving your grades,” she smiled warmly, “we have free pamphlets about diet and exercise. Just ask at reception on your way out! Right!” She grinned, enjoying the tour almost as much as the girls even ‘though the building and what went on there were already very familiar to her. “Who’s ready to see the kitchen?”

In polite single file, the naked sisters slipping in amongst the others, and Emma still naked of course, ready to cook, they made their way out of the inspection room and followed Mollie to the end of the corridor, chattering softly and a little disappointed not to run into any other meat in the corridor but excited for the kitchen. This was new to Marcia and Jessica too and had even more significance for them so they were possibly the most excited of all as Mollie held the large swing door open and ushered them inside.

“So,” she resumed her commentary once Captain Cath confirmed that everyone was in and the door was closed behind them, “this is the kitchen. While probably the majority of our cooking is done in the field, with the equipment I showed you before, there will always be occasions where it’s easier or the client would prefer for us to arrive with meat that has been cooked already and is ready to serve. Now,” she continued, “most clients do want their piggies delivered still hot but the event that Marcia and Jess are helping me out with tomorrow have specifically requested that the first course will be a cold buffet so I’ll be roasting Marcia here early in the morning then letting her cool setting the transport container to chill. In fact,” she reflected, “let me show you that first then I can show you how we get an oven piggy ready to roast. Not for real, this time,” she admitted apologetically, “but don’t worry, you’ll all get to watch a real spitting courtesy of Emma not long afterwards!” The blonde meat-girl’s cheeks went a little pink but she did look rather proud as everyone shot involuntary glances in her direction.

“You’ll notice,” Mollie continued, “that we have large fire-doors over there?” She pointed to the end wall where there were indeed a set of double doors, operated by a push-bar, a similar size to the ones they had come through. “That’s so we can take prepared meat straight out into the car park and load it onto one of our vans without having to manoeuvrer through those small, fiddly doors at reception. And this,” she patted the top of a large stainless steel box on wheels, a similar size and shape to the portable ovens she had shown them in the store room but with access from both ends rather then the size, and nothing but steel all the way around with no windows, “is one of our transport boxes.” She lifted the doors at both ends which opened upwards. “Come and take a look.” she invited. “They can be set to keep meat either hot or cold, depending on what the client wants.” The girls, looking intrigued, all filed past and around it, peering inside at the interior which had low wheels on the the bottom, presumably to help platters slide in and out, and grooves around half way up the sides where a shelf could presumably be slid in if the box was being used to transport cuts of meat rather than a whole piggy.

“This, or one like it, is what Marcia’s is going to be riding in tomorrow,” Mollie explained and the nine year old felt a shiver of excitement run through her sweet, naked young body, “and we will be spitting Jessica before we leave but delivering her alive to roast on site. Our vans are equipped with special mounts to be able to transport piggies already on their spits.” Now it was Jessica’s turn to feel that very special tingle as she became aware of dozens of eyes looking her up and down, imagining how she would look once impaled.

“These are our rotisserie ovens,” Mollie walked them further around the room, “where we can spit-roast a girl or boy indoors. If we’d ended up with bad weather today,” she explained, “this is where we would have cooked Emma for you but since it’s so lovely outside, we’ll be roasting her in our outdoor picnic area which, I’m sure you’ll agree, is much nicer!” She remembered her curiosity from earlier and tried to steer the conversation around to how Emma had ended up on the menu without violating the golden rule about never asking directly why someone volunteered. “Tell me,” she smiled at the naked blonde, “did you pick spit-roasting as the way to cook or did everyone vote?”

“We all decided we wanted a spit-roast,” Emma explained sweetly, “then we took a secret vote where everyone could write someone’s name on a piece of paper and whoever got the most votes, if they were okay with it, of course,” she clarified quickly, “would get to be the piggy. There were a couple of girls who said they didn’t want to so we all promised not to write their names but most of us were open to the idea. I got the most votes so here I am!”

“And was one of those votes your own?” Mollie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You might very well think that,” Emma giggled, quoting an old TV show her dad liked to re-watch from time to time, “but I couldn’t possibly comment!”

“Good girl!” Mollie laughed. “Well I definitely agree that a good choice was made and I’m really looking forward to cooking you but I hope you’ll agree that outside would be better?” Emma and all the other girls nodded. “Great!” She pulled open the front of one of the rotisseries and showed them how the spits fitted inside, then showed them the large pots of boiling and the long, reasonably shallow baths used for deep-frying, currently empty of oil, with their wire baskets on electronic mounts to raise or lower them at the touch of a button. Next were the woks for shallow-frying, the grills and finally the ovens where Marcia would be prepared the next morning.

“Now,” Mollie grinned, “I’m going to need a couple of volunteers!” Several hands went up while others hesitated. “Oh and you have to be okay with taking your clothes off!” Some hands came down while others actually went up. “I promise you it’s perfectly safe!” Mollie giggled teasingly. “Okay, let’s see…” She looked over the sea of raised hands and made her selection. “You,” she pointed at a tall red-head with a similar figure to Emma, “and you.” She picked one of the younger girls, a mousy brunette with cute, red-rimmed glasses. “Pop your clothes off for me and I’ll tell you what you need to do!”


To be continued...