Chapter 15: The Hungry Look


The farmhouse settled into its Sunday hush as Piglet and Thirty-Six stepped through the back door, their bare feet leaving faint prints on the hardwood. Clean. Quiet. The kind of stillness that made the old house feel like it was holding its breath.

She checked Ms. Baker's office first. Empty. The same notepad laying in a different location, the computer monitor dark.

"One second," Piglet said, already moving toward the desk.

Smart piglet. She smirk.

Thirty-Six watched without a word, his hands still cupped protectively over his groin. It wasn't often he got to go into a house—clean and comfortable, smelling of lemon polish.

He'd spent most of his young life in the bulls' quarters. When not fucking cowgirls.

It wasn't always peaches and cream. Well, lots of cream. The older bulls used to pass him around. They didn't think it cruel—mostly to get out their pent-up frustrations, other times just for fun. They never asked consent. Yet neither did he when plowing the cowgirls. It was their way. His life.

The monitor flickered to life. Piglet clicked through the feeds. Only Daisy in the barn, asleep

. The cellar—empty, sheets fresh. The theater—nothing.

The office camera showed Thirty-Six staring at himself on the screen, and for a moment he forgot to breathe. He didn't get to see himself very often.

The medical room. Then the private kitchen. Lights were on, but she could see no one—only a faint ribbon of conversation bleeding through the speakers.

"There." Thirty-Six pointed, his soft finger hovering near the screen.

The baking section. Ms. Baker in her medical garb, talking to Ducky, who sat casually, bare-naked, on the edge of a prep table. Behind them, the oversized oven Ducky was so fascinated about.

Piglet turned up the volume.

"—are you sure about this." Ms. Baker's voice, not quite a question. "It is a big step and there is no coming back."

"I know what happens." Ducky's tone was light, almost cheerful. "At least I'll be inside all of you. Just like Miss Goat."

"Why don't we wait until Thanksgiving? Maybe fatten you up a little."

"You said it was my choice. My decision as a farm animal."

"True. I just want you to see all your options."

"I have." Ducky's voice dropped, dreamy and firm.

"I dream about it at night. Everyone eating my delicious duck body."
A pause.

"I like it when Piglet bites me. It makes me so wet. I want her to eat me, too."

Piglet watched the feed with a tear tracking down her cheek and a warmth spreading through her chest.

Thirty-Six probably would have had a hard-on, if he could.
"I like her mouth on me I can be with her forever-within her. I love her.

I love Daisy. I want to do it for her as well."

"Well, I'm not going to stop you if that is your wish." Ms. Baker's hand rested on Ducky's knee.

"But what about your request?
What if she says no?"

"Why would she say no? She loves me!"

"I know she loves you. But some people are not ready for cook another person. She's a new member, she only been with us a few days-remember?"

Ducky hopped off the table. She didn't count days. "She will."

The feed showed them heading toward the door. Piglet heard the locks click open down the hall.

"Here they come." She stepped away from the monitor and stood beside Thirty-Six, her shoulder brushing his arm.

"Ah, there you are—and shiny clean as well." Ms. Baker's voice preceded her into the office. Ducky flew past her, crashing into Piglet with both arms.

"I've missed you."

Piglet felt compelled to hug her back. Tight.

Whatever Ducky desired, she should get everything she has coming to her.

Ducky looked up at the naked boy holding his crotch.

"Why is he so shy?"
Piglet didn't answer.

Ducky was told that he was a new pet, she immediately jump, moving over to give him a big hug, pressing his arms against his body.

Thirty-Six's eyes went wide, but he didn't pull away.

"Why don't you pets head to the cellar?" Ms. Baker suggested, steering them out the office door. "I'm sure you two have lots to talk about.

I need to do minor surgery on our new pet—or else he will explode if he can't pee."

Ducky went to ask more questions but-they were pushed into the hallway.

Piglet pulled ducky along, she wanted to her what she has to say.

As they headed for the cellar, they ran into Dora, holding the twins for another feeding.

"I see you're no worse for the wear." Dora's eyes traveled over Piglet's clean skin.
"You clean up nice.” Dora looking a piglet hungrily.

“But that hair of yours. Im a pet groomer! Let’s see what Clair wants to do with that doo" She sniffed theatrically, laughing, then continued toward the barn.

“Strange lady” ducky quacked

The cellar door. The stairs. The big bed with its fresh sheets, past activities washed away.

"What's with the shy new pet?" Ducky asked, bouncing onto the mattress.

"Oh, Thirty-Six? He lost his banana."
Ducky's face crumpled. "What?"

Piglet laughed at her own joke. "Just kidding. It's a sad story." She wasn't laughing at him—only the absurdity of it all.

"He's a bull. His name is Thirty-Six, and he lost his penis in a potato-peeling accident."

The words swirled around Ducky's bird brain. She saw them from every angle. Seconds later:

"What a stupid name!"

They collapsed onto the bed, giggling. No toys. No games. Just piglet and ducky.

Ducky had something to say, and Piglet was all ears.

Ducky's fingers found Piglet's, squeezing. "You know the rotisserie game we played with Chick-a-Dee? The basting and the oil and how she looked so happy?" Her words came faster now, tumbling.

"I want that for real. I want you to be my chef. A real chef, with a big white hat and an apron, and I want to be your dish.
For Daisy’s celebration dinner.

Not on the rotisserie—in the oven. Just warmth and comfort. You can brush a glaze on me. A sticky, sweet glaze, all over my breasts and my tummy. Id like lots of season, stuff me up real good. Garnish me—maybe orange slices, and peach bundles tucked under my arms."

She was breathless now, her dark eyes shining.
But I want to be cook alive, I want to experience it-just like miss goat did when she was butchered-alive.

Piglet had seen the video feed. She knew Ducky's wanted to become dinner, but a live roasting?

Ms. Baker would be doing the real cooking, piglet would just be playing a role. Ducky’s motivation is simple, how could she take that away from her.

The only answer that felt right was yes.

She pulled Ducky into a hug. Ducky hugged tighter. “Yes I’ll cook you!” Piglet agreed.

“and eat me too!” Ducky added.

Piglet remember-grabbed Ducky's shoulders, pushing her back to see her face. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Oh, after my exam I told Ms. Baker about the video we watched."

"You did what? Was she mad?" Piglet's voice pitched higher.

"No, not really. She just said it's natural for pets to be curious." Ducky's fingers traced the pig charm on Piglet's collar.

"Even though I didn't eat her, I want to do something in Miss Goat's honor.

So I asked Ms. Baker and she agreed. She asked me to think about it—an oven can get pretty hot.

Piglet leaned closer.

Ms Baker wanted me to hop inside the metal long box-rectangle thingy. Think about what it would feel like to be cooked.

She put this cap on my head to cover my hair, and big goggles over my eyes and eyebrows. Then she lowered me into a metal tub half-filled with creamy yellow gel. The tub was shallow, but I couldn't see over the ledge when I lay down.

My hands and feet were stretched and clamped."

Ducky's voice had gone soft, recounting the memory like a dream.

"She showed me a strange device that went into my vagina. It looked like a football attached to a long rod. She inserted the football, then attached it to a box with a hole.

Ms. Baker said I could stay in the box and think about live cooking in an oven.

Ms Baker closed the lid and a low orange lights dimly lit the interior. I could feel it warming up—not hot, but like a sauna.

The gel bubbled. It felt so good. My thighs pressed together. Then the football came alive-began to vibrate.
Trust me, I lost control. Came right on the spot. My arms were clamped above me, my ankles clamped at the other end.

Turns out the gel substance was butter.
Real butter.

Next, tiny ports opens and spray butter from above, dousing my body with warm butter. The best part is—" She met Piglet's eyes. "I thought about you licking me."

Piglet's stomach growled. Loud. Way past lunch.
"Taste me," Ducky said, holding out her arm.

It took Piglet a second to respond. She leaned forward, her tongue dragging from Ducky's wrist to the crook of her elbow. Butter. Rich and creamy and faintly salted, still clinging to Ducky's skin from the butter box. "Mmmmm. Tastes so good."

"I'm buttery all over. Want a taste?" Ducky smiled, laying back and spreading her legs.

Piglet didn't answer with words. Her mouth found Ducky's inner thigh first, licking a long stripe from knee to groin, chasing the butter like a starved thing.

The flavor coated her tongue—sweet cream and warm skin and something muskier underneath.

Ducky's hips lifted, pressing her pussy toward Piglet's face, but Piglet wasn't ready. She took the other thigh. Same slow path. Same greedy tongue.

Her fingers spread Ducky's folds, and the butter was there too—slick and warm, mixing with Ducky's own wetness until

Piglet couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. She licked. A broad, flat stroke that made Ducky gasp and grip the sheets. Another, this time circling the clit with the tip of her tongue.

Ducky's thighs clamped around her ears, and Piglet ate—lapped and sucked and nuzzled, twisting Ducky's body as she went, flipping her onto her stomach to lick the butter from the backs of her knees, the curve of her ass, the dip of her spine.

"You taste like a feast," Piglet murmured against Ducky's skin. The hunger was real—Ms. Baker's trigger still humming in her bones, but also something older, something that had nothing to do with hypnosis.

She wanted to consume. To devour. To lick every last trace of butter from this girl who loved her enough to become her meal.

Ducky came with a quack-like cry, her body shuddering under Piglet's mouth, and Piglet held her through it, lapping gently until the trembling stopped.

Soon Ducky's breathing evened. Sleep dragged her under, her small body limp on the fresh sheets.

Piglet's stomach growled again. Real hunger. She was such a piggy.
She slipped off the bed, leaving Ducky curled in a butter-scented ball, and padded quietly upstairs to the kitchen.

The fridge light would be enough. Just a snack before dinner.
She pushed through the kitchen door.
Only to stop short.

Coach stood at the counter, pulling a beer from the fridge.
Her old swim coach. The one who'd sent her to Ms. Baker. The one who'd visited the farm before, who'd headed to the barn to visit Daisy Moo when the rotisserie game got too intense.

He must have had a few beers already. He was looking at her funny.
A hungry look.

Her pussy became wet.