Like a real couple at a wedding, Nep and Rowan fed each other pieces of the delicious meat, most of it considered prestige cuts, from their platter with long, two-pronged forks. So caught up was Nep in the moment that he almost started to forget that Rowan, despite being six years older than him and considered an adult, was really his partner rather than just a paid actress performing the role as part of her job. Feeling kindly disposed to the slave-girl, he reached down and fed her a small piece of rump meat from his fingers.

“Don’t spoil her too much!” Rowan cautioned with a giggle. “She still has a very important job to do and will want to look her best!” Nep was burning to ask what that might job might be, since he did not think it likely that anyone else would be cooked, the sacrifice of the goddesses intended as it was to provide the climax of the story-line but he knew better than to ask for answers that would definitely not be given. He would just have to wait to find out along with everyone else but he was more than certain that, whatever it was, it would not be disappointing. “So, husband,” Rowan giggled again, feeding Nep another piece of Artemis’ tender, creamy breast, the crispiness of her skin only serving to emphasise the tenderness of the meat beneath, “which of my sister-daughters is the tastiest? To whom will you award ultimate victory? The people will be waiting for an announcement!”

“I don’t think the people care!” Nep chuckled wryly, looking down at the stage area which had essentially been converted to a buffet where all his classmates as well as their parents and a selection of the teachers from his school were all milling around enjoying their meal, served to them on more of the golden paper plates by Melanie’s costumed team, and the stew served in large, matching paper cups. Many of them were on their second or even third portions and, if they even remembered there had been a story-line building up to the meal, weren’t giving it a second thought.

“You may be right!” Rowan agreed with obvious amusement. “But we do need to wrap the story up, plus then there is my little final little surprise for you too!” She grinned cheekily, clearly enjoying his frustrated curiosity.

“Well I honestly can’t pick!” Nep sighed slightly sadly, spearing a pieces of both Athena’s fillet and breast on his fork and chewing them thoughtfully, followed by Artemis’. There really was not a lot to choose between them. In truth, the meat he had enjoyed most was Suzi’s breasts and Gemma’s fillet but they had been bribes offered in the contest of the gods, rather than contestants. “The Trojan war was kind of a stale-mate in the story too, right?”

“Well,” Rowan replied thoughtfully, remembering the research she had helped Melanie with, “yes and no. The Greeks did win pretty decisively but it pretty much cost them everything in the process too so, in the grand scheme of things I suppose you could say that nobody really won.”

“That voice,” Nep asked, musingly, “the one that sounds like the big guy with the beard from the olden-days, or that guy who played The Doctor back in my great-grandparents’ time, is there someone here or is it pre-recorded?”

“Oh there’s a real actor here.” Rowan smiled. “I’ll introduce him to you afterwards if you like. Although I warn you,” she giggled, “he’s probably nothing like you’re expecting!” Nep looked at her curiously. “He’s a thin, ginger guy, not much older than me, and his normal speaking voice is pretty camp. In fact when he answered the phone to me the first time I assumed he was a woman and that I was speaking to his secretary or something! Turns out he’s just a really good voice actor!”

“Must be!” laughed Nep. “I was picturing some huge, barrel-chested giant with a massive beard!”

“As you would!” Rowan agreed with a chuckle. “But yeah, he’s real. You make your final announcement and he’ll do a little summing up, then we can get on with the finale!” Incredibly intrigued now, Nep quickly helped Rowan finish up the meat on their plate, giving a few final scraps to the slave, then stood to address his court.

“The meat of both goddesses and the sacrifice made in order that I might taste it has been pleasing to me!” Nep declared, his voice amplified and deepened by the theatrical sound system. “I therefore desire to grant both their wish, yet it is not possible for both sides to win. What is possible, however, is for neither. The Greeks shall be given their victory over Troy but it shall be a hollow victory and those who do eventually return home shall be broken shells of the men they once were, counting the cost of their victory until the end of their days.” Considering he had no scripted lines and hadn’t had any particular rehearsals, Nep was rather proud of his spontaneous speech! “While the people of Troy shall be spoken of and memorialised in legend for as long as civilisation endures!” Nep sat back down on his throne, signifying that his speech was concluded, and the audience, young and old alike, broke into an enthusiastic round of applause.

“And so it was as Zeus has spoken!” the narrator confirmed. “Greece’s victory over Troy was decisive and brutal yet of the men who set out to return to their homes and families, only a few were ever seen again and others had been gone so long their own wives and children did not know them upon their return. But this is not a time to mourn!” he reminded them, not wanting to end of a depressing note. “For we are guests at a feast of the gods so let us celebrate and eat our fill!” The audience needed no further encouragement and continued to indulge in the delicious spread. The two young girls who had escorted Iphegnia to her sacrifice came and took the platter from Nep and Rowan, returning a few minutes later with it refilled.

“Are you excited?” Rowan asked them with a snowing smile as she accepted the dish from them. Both young girls grinned excitedly and nodded. Nep opened his mouth to ask what they might be excited about but, anticipating his question, Rowan’s turned to him and put a soft finger on his lips. “All in good time, my love!” she assured him cheekily before giving a kiss on his forehead. “All in good time!”

No official cessation to the meal was called but when it seemed that everyone had eaten their fill, Melanie’s team went quickly to work stripping the roasted carcasses of any remaining meat and scooping the rest of the stew out into large bowls, leaving only the blanched bones of the Three Graces in the bottom. Nep watched with interest as bundles of straw were tossed into the cauldron-like pot along with an assortment of dried and fresh herbs and handfuls of different coloured gravel which he took at first to be precious stones but quickly realised was likely some kind of incense resin. Onto this bed were placed the bones of the two goddesses, with whatever scraps of meat and connective tissue remained attached, along with those of his two class-mates and some more that were brought out in a basket which were, he supposed, most likely Iphegnia’s. Once the bones of all the girls who had been eaten that day were in the pot, the altar on which the two goddesses had roasted and the table on which the meal was served were lowered back down into the stage, leaving the smaller altar on which Iphegnia had been sacrificed then grilled with it’s braziers at either end where the flesh was nearly all burned away from the two skulls. The pot was then moved to the middle, in front of the altar, and the two young girls who had brought the second helping to Nep and Rowan approached carrying burning torches which they lowered into the pot, setting the straw on fire. Soon smoke began to rise above the flames, sweetened by the incense and herbs that had been mixed in with the straw.

Was this what Rowan had been referring to? Nep wondered. Certainly it was a big moment for the girls but but perhaps something of an anti-climax compared to their earlier role, and certainly not something he could imagine them being as excited over as they had seemed!

“And now, my husband,” Rowan in her role as Hera cooed, stroking the long white wig that served as Nep’s hair, “we have a final gift for you, don’t we?” She looked down at the slave who currently knelt contentedly with her head in her mistress’s lap. Rowan encouraged her to stand then stood beside her before raising both hands like Moses parting the Red Sea, the rumble from below the stage making it clear that she was summoning something. Indeed, accompanied by the normal cloud a smoke, a large glass dome with brass “ribs”, reminding Nep a little of a cartoon birdcage, rose up, accompanied on either side by tall brass pillars, twice the height at least of the dome, with glass balls on the top and connected to the top of the dome via thin wire or cables coming down from each one and connecting in the middle. The audience all fell silent once more, having thought the show was over but intrigued by this new development and curious to see what it might entail. Up on the throne, Nep was no less entranced than his guests. His interest was piqued further when the two slave-girls, who he took to be around his own age, pulled off their black togas and threw them into the fire, leaving them entirely naked apart from their collars and the ornamental shackles around their wrists. Both girls were slim, with just the hint of breasts beginning to bud on their chests, but no less feminine and shapely for it and Nep was certainly not unhappy to see them naked. Rowan took hold of her red-haired slave-girl’s face and kissed her deeply.

“Go to them!” she instructed, giving the girl a rather hard slap of her rump which was mostly exposed either side of the loin cloth. The girl could not help giving a little yelp and was clearly very excited, breathing heavily as she descended to steps to meet her naked fellow slaves. Once there, she stood demurely as Iphegnia had done, allowing them to remove not only the long scarf around her waist which was her only clothing but also her jewellery, all of which they placed carefully on the altar before removing their own ornamentation and placing it alongside.

“Have you heard of Polkanisation?” Rowan asked as a section in the middle of the altar rose up then opened, revealing two gleaming bronze or golden bowls containing white powder with thick makeup-style brushes laid across the top of each, resting in clips so they would be easy to lift off but would not fall on their own, and small, matching watering-cans with plungers on the top, similar to the one Nep’s grandmother used to mist her plants and which had often doubled for Aladdin’s lamp when he was little.

“Yeah,” he nodded, unable to take his eyes off the three naked girls, “that’s where a person gets turned into a statue, right?”

“That’s right,” Rowan nodded, also looking straight forward, not wanting to miss any of the show, as the naked pre-teens began to mist the teen all over with the small cans, lightly dampening her skin and hair and making her glisten beautifully in the orange light of the flames that danced in the marble-effect stew pot. “We’ve just acquired a license and, with the new method producing a white marble-like look, even if it is still technically metal, we thought this was the perfect opportunity to try it out! Besides,” she turned to grin at him, “it will be a nice souvenir for you to take home to remember the day by!”

“You mean…” Nep’s eyes opened wider than ever, realising that not only was he going to witness the beautiful slave being turned into a statue but that he would be able to take the resulting artwork home to keep forever!

“Yup!” Rowan grinned. “She’s all yours! You could put her by the front door to welcome guests, make her the centre-piece of a rockery or pond in the back garden or,” she giggled, “you could just keep her in your room to make an interesting talking point when friends come over!” Nep could feel himself blushing.

Down in the performance area, as close to the middle as possible and therefore far away from the audience or any other workers, the pre-teen slaves and finished the misting and were beginning to coat the obedient teen with the white power, one kneeling to start from her left foot upwards while the other got straight to business with brushing the powder onto her firm, shapely young breasts. The girls worked quickly and efficiently while the soon-to-be statue stood in a neutral pose with her feet shoulder-width apart and her arms held slightly outwards by her sides, making every part of her body reasonable easy to access, but Nep could not help notice that every so often, both girls would use their thumb or a finger-tip to smooth out a bump, or lean in very close and blow to ensure a smooth finish.

“Isn’t that stuff really toxic?” Nep asked in confusion. “I thought you had to wear a mask and a whole hazard suit to work with it?”

“Deadly!” Rowan nodded, without turning away from the spectacle. “Anything more than a few spots on your skin and you’re dead in about two hours. Three max. Of course if you breath it in, then you’d be lucky to live an hour! That’s why it’s so strictly controlled and the licensing is so stringent! Can you imagine if just anyone could buy it in the hardware store? They’d be getting sued left, right and centre! Besides,” she shrugged, “you need a proper kiln for it to cure properly and those cost about as much as a brand new car!”

“But, um…” Nep furrowed his brow. “They seem to be being pretty… I guess cavalier is the word? Not seeing a whole lot of safety gear?”

“Working with toxic substances is only an issue if you plan on living longer than they’ll take to kill you!” Rowan observed with a shrug as the girl who had started with the slave’s foot took careful, loving care to coat her shapely vulva and the girl who had begun with the breasts began to brush the powder over her red hair, using finger and thumb to work it carefully into her loose curls. “Not an issue in their case!” Rowan giggled. “They both tried out for Iphegnia,” she explained conversationally, “but there wasn’t enough meat on either of them to feed everyone.” Nep understood this, as attractive as the girls were, their young, slim bodies incredibly appealing, being good meat was about more than looks and these girls would really only have been suitable for soup. “But then, one thing that really stood out from their interviews,” Rowan continued, “was that being eaten wasn’t a big deal for them. What they were more into was the idea of being sacrificed! One of them even told me as long as she gets to die naked and in public, she doesn’t really care how!”

“I see!” Nep chuckled. The younger girls were now checking the older girl over, making sure that no part of her beautiful teen body had been missed. “Did they miss the bottom of her right foot?” asked Nep, who had been paying close attention to the whole process.

“Not missed.” Rowan explained. “That will line up with a space on the plinth so we can shake the ash and any bone debris out.” The matter-of-fact was she talked about what was going to happen to the girl was quite thrilling. Sure, Nep had watched several girls die that afternoon already but somehow this felt different. Girls, and some boys of course, were killed for meat all the time, it was part of the cycle of life, the food chain like he had learned about in school. But burning a girl alive just to create a piece of art felt somehow more decadent, more intimate, more erotic.

Now coated in the white powder from head to toe, the teen slave allowed herself to be gently led into the dome, which currently stood open at the front. In the middle was a short plinth like the top of a column but only eight or nine inches high. The girl stepped carefully up onto it, placing the un-coated sole of her right foot over a corresponding hole in the base then stood at ease with her other foot, not yet adopting a statue-like pose. A bit like the point of no return with a spit-roaster, Nep understood that the pure white girl now existed in a state between life and death. Currently alive, breathing normally and with only minor discomfort yet already beyond anything that could be survived. If she were to change her mind right then and then, jump from the plinth and run to the changing room to shower off, it would make no difference. Not only would the chemical compound already be bonded to her damp skin but, even if it could all be scrubbed off, she would have long ago absorbed more than a fatal dose of its highly toxic ingredients. She was, in all practical senses, already dead. The heat that would actually kill her was effectively nothing but a formality. Nep expected the slave-girls to step out of the dome and leave the statue there but instead only one left while the other stayed by her side. The girl carried her bowl and both misting cans back to the altar, leaving her colleague with her own, and carefully placed them back in their container then took once of the torches from the side of the pot and carried it back to the dome where she held it in front of the statue girl’s face. The powder-coated girl resolutely kept her eyes open, unblinking, and smiled softly with her lips slightly parted as the heat from the fire turned the white powder on her face but especially around her eyes a light grey.

“The heat starts the curing process.” Rowan continued her commentary for Nep’s benefit. “It’s basically going to lock her eyes open so they can be coated too.” Sure enough, as the first girl took the torch back to the pot, which continued to burn cheerfully, it’s incense-laden smoke filling the air, the second girl carefully brushed the power over the teen’s exposed eyeballs and between her lips. Nep could not help wincing in sympathy, imagining how it must feel to have powder brushed directly onto your eye, but the teen showed no sign of distress and made no attempt to pull her head away as her coating was completed. The pre-teen then knelt down and brushed a little more powder around the edges of her feet, the left of which was slightly raised so that only the girl’s toes and the ball of her foot made contact, to provide a good and secure join to the plinth which, as Rowan informed Nep, was made from balsa-wood and pre-coated in the same substance.

Now the second girl left the dome and Nep wondered what was going to happen to them. It was clear from what Rowan said that they would be dying as part of the show but it also seemed unlikely that they would be offered as food, especially now that everyone had eaten their fill, if it would even be safe to do so with the amount of toxic chemicals that must now be being absorbed into their bodies.

The second girl placed her bowl in the place she had taken it from and it sunk back down, only for another section to open up revealing a deep marble bucket, about the size of the pot Nep’s parents used for their Christmas tree, containing a gloopy liquid that, depending on how the light hit it, looked either jet black or very dark shades or blue, red or brown. On either side of this new container were stiff wire brushes and a length of soft rope. Carefully, helping each other and using metal tongs, the naked pre-teens retrieved the blackened skulls of the goddesses then each set to work cleaning them with the wire brushes. Once all the ash and charred skin and muscle fragments were gone, they carefully threaded the rope through the eye-sockets so that they could be used like handles and lowered each skull in turn into the dark, viscous liquid which clung to the bone like oil as they lifted the skulls out then solemnly walked them back to the dome where they knelt down either side of the powder-coated teen, holding the skulls on their ropes out in front of them. Suddenly, Nep understood completely how their wish for public, sacrificial death was to be fulfilled.

To be continued...