“That should probably be me.” Mrs Ramierez smiled. “So that girls can see what to expect.”

“Okay.” Mollie smiled. “So, Mrs… actually, may I call you Maria?”

“Of course!” the beautiful mature meat-girl smiled warmly. “No point in being overly formal when you’re assessing my meat!” Mollie grinned. “Oh but I do have one favour to ask.” Mollie tilted her head inquisitively and gave her an encouraging smile.”I didn’t see any mention of it in your literature but some places offer a branding for graded meat-girls. Are you able to do that?”

“We certainly are!” Mollie grinned. “You’re serious about letting everyone know what they’re getting, huh?” The woman and her two daughters all giggled as they nodded their agreement. “We use a stamp, it’s basically like a tattoo so it won’t wash off or anything but the ink breaks down at cooking temperature and doesn’t have any impact on the taste of your meat or the edibleness of that patch of skin.”

“Perfect!” Maria Ramierez clapped her hands together in delight. “Can we all have that, please?”

“Of course!” Mollie grinned, already no doubt in her mind from the quick visual inspection alone that, adjusting for the mother’s age, all three would be A+ grade meat! “Anyway,” Mollie smiled, “as I was saying, the first stage is to weigh and measure you, then we’ll take some photographs then I’ll do the more intimate, detailed inspection, okay?”

“Whatever you say!” Maria grinned. “You’re the expert here! We’re just livestock!”

“That’s the spirit!” chuckled Mollie. “Okay, let’s have you up on the scale here.” Once she got into the normal routine of recording the volunteer’s height and weight then having them face in the various different directions required for the photographs, Mollie found it easier to get into a professional frame of mind again. This started to waver, however, when she asked Maria to step off the scales and began to take more detailed measurements with the tape measure, measuring her bust, hips, belly and the circumference of her thighs, calves and biceps. “So how old’s your sister?” she asked, making conversation to distract her own mind from the intimacy of the situation and the thoughts of what was about to happen.

“Rosita?” Maria smiled. “She’s eighteen. Turned eighteen just before our anniversary. You know,” she giggled, her eyes sparkling the way many people’s do when recalling a happy memory, “it’s a funny story, really! I was originally the oldest of five and when Carlos and I got married fifteen years ago, two of my sisters were bridesmaids and roasted for us, they would have been about the ages of my two now, in fact, and my second to youngest sister who was six at the time was our flower girl. Oh she looked so sweet,” she gushed, “walking down the aisle in front of me in nothing but a flower crown, sprinkling rose-petals for me to walk on. She looked so excited and happy as she lay down in that pretty white guillotine with the red roses wrapped around it.” She gave a contented sigh. “Her Cupid’s Heart was perfect, and we had the rest of her roasted like a suckling pig. Such a wonderful day with friends and family all enjoying the wonderful food together! Anyway,” she continued as Mollie put the tape measure away and began to squeeze and prod various parts of her body, starting with arms, thighs and belly and working up to the more interesting parts, “little Rosita, she had just turned three at the time, was jealous of her big sisters and complaining that she didn’t get to be cooked to so Carlos, sweetheart that he is,” she smiled fondly, “explained to her that she couldn’t get cooked because he needed her to be his second wife.”

“Aww sounds cute!” Mollie grinned. “And that was enough to help her past her jealousy?” She knew all too well how disruptive to a party a jealous sibling could be when their brother or sister was getting cooked and they were not. In those scenarios, Mollie usually found them some kind of important task to help with the cooking so they felt seen and integral to the success of the party too.

“It certainly cheered her up!” Maria chuckled at the memory. “Anyway, it became something of a running joke between them and any time the idea of her cooking came up, she would say it was off the table as she’d already promised to be Carlos’ second wife. Anyway, once she turned eighteen, he asked how I would feel about making the it come true. I told him it was a lovely idea! Of course we had to get the girls on board before we made it official, that law being what it is and all.” Mollie knew she was referring to the fact that it was illegal for a mother with minor children to be cooked or otherwise snuffed if it meant they would be left behind, meaning the only way it was possible was to have the children cooked first. In practice, this meant having them start the process first, whether that meant being spitted or even just getting into the stew pot first. “As I think you can see,” she gestured towards her daughters who were giggling as they pretended to inspect each other’s meat just as Mollie would be doing in a few minutes time, “they were very much on board with the idea so he proposed to her at our anniversary party. Oh it was so romantic!” she gushed, clutching her hands together in front of her heart and beaming. “He got down on one knee and everything! She cried! It was so beautiful!”

“Well I hope they’ll have a very happy future together!” Mollie smiled. “Please turn for me so I can inspect your rump?” As normal, she was not saying the individual grades out loud but logging them all in her head to be inputted together, although the result was a foregone conclusion. Much like IQ tests, meat-grading also took age into consideration so, although she may have lost points had she been sixteen or eighteen years old, at thirty four years old, Mrs Maria Ramierez was likely to come away with a damn near perfect score. “Perfect!” Mollie grinned after fondling the firm, round buttocks for perhaps a little longer than strictly necessary. “Turn to face me again.” Maria did as she was told and Mollie inspected her lovely breasts then slipped on one of her blue gloves. “I’m going to slip two of my fingers inside you now,” she explained, “and when I say, I want you to squeeze them as hard as you can.” Of course the beautiful wannabe turkey got full marks for this deliciously meaty cut too and Mollie slid her fingers out and removed her glove then invited her to sit and relax while she entered her score, then it would be one of the girls’ turn.


To be continued...