Just as they had when Carl was spitted or when the girls were getting into the pot, the party guests realised that something was happening and started to gather near to the grill. Even Carl’s harem of women old enough to be his mother turned their attention away from him for a few minutes to watch as Mollie and Doug strapped Lydia into the frame. Standing in an X formation, the young blonde’s wrists were chained to the upper corners of the A-frame while her ankles were secured to the poles at the back of the base with the result that her body was forced to curve forward slightly, pushing out her chest and adding an extra firmness to her rump, keeping it and her thighs involuntarily flexed.

“Looking good!” Mollie assured her in a soothing voice, taking out a small, pre-filled syringe, far more discrete than the ones used for the Liquifirm or Permahard and pulling off the cap. “Now I warn you,” she tapped the syringe to remove air-bubbles and squirted a tiny bit out the top, “this is going to make you feel kinda drunk and dopey but it will dull the pain. You’ll still be aware of sensations but they won’t be overwhelming. Don’t worry,” she grinned, “it won’t effect the flavour of your meat and the effects don’t transfer to anyone who eats you! The other thing it will do,” she explained, as much for the benefit of the listening audience as for Lydia with whom she had been through this all earlier, “is thicken your blood so you won’t bleed out after the first couple of slices. You’ll go into shock eventually, of course,” she explained apologetically, “that can’t be helped. They’ve yet to come out with a drug that makes a body totally ignore the fact that it’s being eaten, I’m afraid!” This line earned her some chuckles from the guests, many of whom were once again filming or taking pictures. “But it will mean you last longer. It’s incredibly harmful, of course,” she teased, “and would probably kill you in about two hours but I don’t think you need to worry too much about that!”

“I’ll take my chances!” Lydia giggled as the needle was pushed into her rump which, much like Selena’s, was the meatiest part of her body. The effect was almost immediate! A giddy light-headedness as if she has just downed a glass or two of champagne accompanied by a certain wooziness and sense of detachment from her surroundings. It was, however, a pleasant feeling with none of the discomfort or nausea that comes from drinking too much.

Around her, people were talking. There seemed to be some discussion of food? Lydia was reasonably sure that she was supposed to be doing something but nobody seemed to be addressing her directly so she supposed there was no big issue for the moment.

“Well,” she heard Mollie say to Natasha as the pair of them stood in front of her, Mollie holding a long, sharp knife, a carving fork and a pair of tongs together in one hand, her other hand on the younger girl’s shoulder, “your Grandma said you get first cut, so what’s it going to be?” Natasha looked Lydia up and down, her skin still pink from the soup, although like her own it was quickly fading to a far less angry tone, but her body no less appetising for it. A satisfying flash of understanding hit Lydia at that moment. She wasn’t supposed to be helping prepare or serve up the food, she was the food! Her only job was to stand there while people chose their portions from her lovely young body. That was okay then, easy enough. She could relax and let them get on with it.

The sky was a lovely shade of blue, with only a few fluffy white clouds looking as if they had been put there for decoration. Off to the side she could hear the girls in the pot giggling happily as they boiled and, on the roasting pit close by, Carl was already starting to smell delicious! By the time her body had been stripped, he would probably be ready to serve. She wondered if her bones and whatever scraps were left would be thrown into the pot to compliment the existing flavours of the stew. That would be a good idea. She should probably mention it to Mollie, but there was no rush. There seemed to be no urgency to anything any more. She had heard the expression to not have a care in world many times, of course, but for the first time it felt as if she was truly experiencing it. Further away, the happy dog was playing fetch with some of the younger children. She hoped he would be treated to a bone or two later, hopefully with some tasty meat still on it.

“Do you think I could have a whole tit?” Natasha asked, glancing over her shoulder at her grandmother who nodded, smiling indulgently as always.

“Excellent choice!” Mollie grinned. “Left or right?”

“Hmm…” Natasha considered this for a moment, looking from one to the other, and Lydia found herself which one she would pick in her shoes. She knew that some girls had a favourite, one breast that they thought was nicer, more shapely or perkier than the other, but she never really had. Honestly, she had never really given her tits much thought at all. It was not really as if they were much to write home about, after all, especially not compared to Mollie’s! In fact, she was fairly sure that Natasha’s were bigger, or at least as big, looking bigger due to her her shorter stature, despite Lydia’s having had around three years more growing time. “The left one!” Natasha declared finally, pointing.

“Perfect!” Mollie admired her choice. Lydia vaguely wondered what attributes her left breast might have to make it more delicious-looking than her right but it was just as likely that the young teen had picked via a silent game of eeny-meeny-miny-mo. “Want to cut it off yourself?”

“If I can?” Natasha asked a little nervously. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Don’t worry,” Mollie smiled reassuringly, “I’ll show you.” She passed the knife and fork to the naked brunette then used the tongs to lift Lydia’s breast a little. “Stick the fork in from underneath,” she instructed, “not too near the front but not too near the back either. You’ll have to push it in quite hard, more like a stab. Otherwise the skin will just stretched and bounce.” Lydia was about to offer some encouraging words of her own but her attention was distracted by a passing blue-green dragon fly which hovered in front of her for a few seconds before flying on. It didn’t matter. Mollie had this covered. She knew what she was doing. With a forced aggression that did not come naturally to her, Natasha rammed the fork upwards into the under-side of Lydia’s left breast. The watching guests applauded that. At least they seemed easily pleased, Lydia thought was amusement as the sharp prongs pierced her skin. Mollie had been right! Whatever she had been injected with was the good stuff! She could feel the fork, knew what was happening, but it would have been quite a stretch to describe the sensation as uncomfortable, let alone painful!

“Now use to fork to lift it up further,” Mollie continued, removing the tongs that were no longer needed, “and pull it out a little. That’s it! Now, put the knife just on the little crease there, where the breast meets the chest. Right,” she guided her hand, “just there. Now you need to pull it back and forth like you’re sawing while pushing up at the same time. Think you can manage that?” she asked with a cheeky wink.

“I’ll give it my best shot!” Natasha giggled, thinking about how her own breasts would soon be carved off once she was fully roasted like Carl and ready to serve. Would she rather be harvested alive, like Lydia, she wondered? She could definitely see the appeal but no, she wanted to be a beautiful whole spit-roast. Golden brown and looking delicious with the ultimate all-over tan! Following instructions, she began to slice upwards with the sawing motion described. The knife was incredibly sharp and the living meat cut far more easily that she had expected.

“Keep pulling it further out as you cut.” Mollie suggested. “It will keep the meat under tension and make it easier.” Lydia looked down, watching with no less fascination than the guests as her perky young breast was cut away from her chest. Only a centimetre or two to go and… Natasha’s eyes widened involuntarily with surprise as she completed her slicing and the whole breast came away, flicking forward a little violently but thankfully staying on the fork. There was louder applause this time, accompanied by whoops and cheers as, directed by Mollie, Natasha carefully set the severed tit down on the grill where it would be Doug’s responsibility to cook it to perfection! “Well done!” Mollie grinned, patting her fellow roaster on the shoulder. “Now, birthday girl,” she turned to Mrs O’Sullivan, “I think you’re up next!”


To be continued...