“Well, here we are!” Jennifer grinned at the camera. “You’re about to witness my real-life harvest from start to finish! Hope you find it entertaining and informative, maybe it will help some of you who are on the fence about volunteering make up your minds one way or the other? If it makes you hungry, then most of my meat will be available to buy today from Morrison Fine Meats, alongside loads of other delectable treats! My parents have reserved a few select cuts for their own dining pleasure,” she grinned, turning to wiggle her round, meaty rump at the camera, slapping it for emphasis, “but the rest is up for grabs! I want to be enjoyed by as many different people as possible! So,” she smiled at the camera, “I guess this is goodbye from me! Over to you two!” she gestured at the butchers who stood either side of her indicating that she was ready and that they could begin their task.

“We will hose down the meat once the piggy is gutted,” Honey explained, “but it’s important to get them as clean as possible first.” Her father handed her a bucket of steaming water and a rough, caustic sponge. Honey knelt and began to scrub Jennifer’s delicious young body all over, starting with her back and shoulders then moving down to her rump, asking her to turn to grant better access the way Jennifer had herself when she was drawing the meat cuts on Caroline. Jennifer for her part remained silent as she was scrubbed, cooperating meekly with all that was asked of her, no longer seeing herself as a person but just meat waiting to be parted out, although when the butcher’s daughter scrubbed the soles of her feet, she could not help but giggle a little! With her back, legs and arms scrubbed there was only the front to go. It was uncomfortable as her nipples and the tender parts between her legs were scrubbed roughly but thrilling too, knowing why she was being cleaned, and the extreme stimulation was very close to pleasure.

When she was scrubbed pink all over, Jennifer was guided, a little unsteadily, to a metal stool and asked to sit with her back to the camera. Knowing that it was important for the audience to see what was going on in the footage the stationary camera captured, when the butcher asked her to extend her left leg, he held it slightly out to the side so there could be no mistaking what was happening as he pulled a sharp hook on the end of a chain down from the ceiling and pushed it through the back of her heel. Jennifer winced a little, tightly gripping the rim of the stool, but did not cry out. The same was done with her right leg and the butcher pressed a button which triggered the mechanical sound of a motor running above them and the chains began to be pulled upwards, Jennifer’s feet with them. Having done this many times before, Honey the butcher’s daughter knew exactly when to pull the stool away so the meat-girl would not hit her head and very soon, the young documentarian was hanging upside down from the meat-hooks, now facing the camera, her face flushed as the blood rushed to her head.

“We secure the piggy’s wrists,” Honey explained to the camera, pulling a thick elastic band up over Jennifer’s hands which she cooperatively clasped together and wrapping it twice around, “not to restrain her as such but because the body has a tendency to thrash involuntarily during slaughter and we try to minimise the potential movement for everyone’s comfort and safety.”

“Some blood will inevitably be lost,” the butcher explained, putting down a large plastic container on the tiled floor in front of Jennifer which his daughter then knelt beside, “and that can be rinsed down the drain, but we catch as much as we can to make our very popular blood pudding! Right, ready?” he asked his daughter rather than the dangling meat girl and in response she nodded, holding the plastic container at a slight angle. “Here we go!”

The audience of school pupils watched in stunned silence, many with open mouths, as the butcher pulled Jennifer’s head back by her hair, exposing her delicate throat, then drew his knife across it, cutting deeply. Blood began to fountain forth and the butcher continued to pull as he made a second pass with the knife. The young girl’s head was now pulled back at an impossibly extreme angle, holding the deep wound in her neck open as her rapidly-beating heart did its job, pumping her hot life-blood out through the deep cut and into the waiting container. Just as Honey had explained it would, the meat-girl’s body began to thrash as its in-build survival instincts over-rode Jennifer’s conscious choice to allow herself to be butchered. Quickly, however, this thrashing subsisted to a few twitches and eventually she hung still. As the flow of blood began to slow, the butcher cut again, this time scraping his knife against her vertebrae. When the flow gave way to a trickle, her sliced around the back of the spine, set the knife down then took the dangling head in both hands and gave a sharp twist. There was a snap and a wet, squelching sound as Jennifer’s head came away from her body, a surprised look on her face, and he set it down on a nearby counter-top. The container of blood was swapped out for a fresh one to catch the viscera so that the usable offal could be sorted from the waste later.

“Ewww!” exclaimed at least half the audience as Jennifer’s taught stomach was opened up and her pink, grey and purple innards flopped out wetly, steaming as Honey tugged on them to guide them into the container. There were giggles from other pupils, directed at those who had reacted with revulsion, and the tension of a moment before was broken, the shock of watching the girl on the screen having her throat cut and head head removed replaced with a feeling of excitement, fascination and some amusement as what had been her body began to be processed as meat. With most of the viscera in the container, Honey used a knife to cut the last of it free, leaving Jennifer’s body cavity empty.

“We always remove the prime fillet first,” the butcher explained, carefully slicing around Jennifer’s plump vulva and public mound with a short, thin-bladed knife, “as this is a highly prized cut and generally enjoyed whole.” He set the appetising cut down almost lovingly next to the head. “Once that is removed, we can halve the carcass!” He picked up a large, heavy-looking cleaver and brought it down with significant force, splitting Jennifer’s pelvic bone. A second chop caused the clever to embed itself about half way up her spine and two more blows were all it took to split the carcass completely in half, the two sides of meat swinging away from each other on their now-independent chains.

In the school hall, everyone’s attention was on the screen with many of the girls and more than a few of the boys imagining that it was their own body that was being parted out with such speed and skill as Jennifer’s tender young meat was stripped from her bones, first one half then the other, the butcher and his daughter working side by side on the long metal counter-top. Finally, with the body completely processed and the bones in another container to be boiled for stock before being sent away for recycling where they would be ground into fertiliser, the butcher set to work on Jennifer’s head.

First, he cut around her hair-line and pulled her chestnut mane off like a wig, which is exactly what it would become after being donated, as the hair of all fully-harvested meat-girls in his shop was, to a charity which provided free, high-quality wigs for cancer patients, especially children. Next he sliced the meat from her cheeks, cut away her upper lip and the flesh around her jaw which he then pulled away from the main part of the head to cut her tongue free, tossing the flayed jaw into the bone tub. Next he removed her ears then used a chisel to split her skull at various points around the scalp until he could lift it off as if topping a boiled egg. After a few quick cuts with a thin-bladed knife, he lifted out the two hemispheres of her brain and set them on the counter before using his thumbs to pop her eyes out from behind. With nothing more than scraps now clinging to it, the skull followed the jaw and the rest of Jennifer’s bones into the tub. There really was now nothing left on the counter that could be identified as the living, breathing, excited and inquisitive girl who had entered the shop not half an hour earlier. From the moment her throat was cut, Jennifer’s entire harvest had taken less then fifteen minutes.

“Well, that’s it!” Mr Morrison grinned at the camera, wiping his bloody hands on his overall. “Now you know exactly what is involved in butchering a meat-girl, I hope we’ll see lots of you in the shop very soon, either as customers or, who knows,” he grinned again, “as produce! Goodbye for now!” He and his daughter both waved as the camera faded to black and gold writing etched its way onto the screen once more declaring “THE END… For real this time!”

A whoop of cheers erupted around the hall, far more enthusiastic than the polite applause at what they had originally taken to be the end of the video.

“Well I guess that explains why Jennifer didn’t show up this morning!” Suzanne giggled to Chloe. “I wonder if I can send my mum a message and get her to go buy some of her meat?”

“Is that smart?” Chloe teased. “She might get ideas!”

“Settle down, now!” Mrs Anderson took her place at the front of the hall once more, gesturing with her hands for quiet. “Settle down! Thank you! Well,” she beamed proudly, “that was quite an experience, wasn’t it? But it’s not over yet!” the entire school leaned forward as one, intrigued to find out what kind of encore the video they just watched could possibly receive. “Jennifer very kindly arranged for one of her thighs to be donated to the school. This has been cooked and cut up so that you can all enjoy a piece of Jennifer before going back to your classes!” At this point, the doors at the side of the hall opened and Jennifer’s dad came in, accompanied by Caroline who was now wearing her friend’s Sidney hat and boots and nothing else. Both were carrying large platters with small cubes of cooked meat on cocktail sticks. “There’s enough for everyone,” Mrs Anderson cautioned, “but please only take one piece. Line up sensibly now.” Somewhat miraculously, the excited children did as they were told and slowly filed through the door, taking their sample of Girl-on-a-stick from either Caroline’s tray or Mr Miller’s, depending on who they passed closest to.

“Damn…” muttered Chloe as she and Suzanne walked slowly back to class, savouring the taste of their delicious friend that still lingered on their tongues. “I don’t know how anyone else’s presentation is supposed to live up to that!”

“I don’t care,” Suzanne giggled, “I’m not down to give mine until next week so it doesn’t really effect me!”

“You’re planning on coming up with something new in a week?” Chloe asked septically, “Something better than whatever you had the whole summer to put together?”

“Nope!” Suzanne grinned again, enjoying her friend’s puzzlement. “You know there’s that private menu at Sidney’s that girls can put themselves on so parties or groups or whatever can order a whole girl for themselves?”

“Vaguely…” Chloe narrowed her eyes.

“Well I signed up last week when we went there for dinner,” the cheeky brunette explained, “and my mum got the notification just before she dropped me off this morning that I’ve been ordered for Friday night, so yippee!” she grinned. “No presentation for me!”

“Wow!” Chloe exclaimed with a chuckle. “The lengths some people will go to to get out of handing in their homework!”
THE END