Posted by Sawney Beane on August 31, 2007 at 00:06:01:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume 142
CANNIBAL SIXTY-NINE
by Sawney Beane
30 October 2002; 8 July 2007
2,285 words
DISTRIBUTION NOTICE and DISCLAIMER: Sawney Beane requests that any distribution of this work of fiction remain within the realm of social responsibility. This story is suitable neither for minors nor for the seeming majority of adults who have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality. It is pure fantasy, which means that, for whatever reason, someone has found it interesting to think about the events depicted herein. It does not in any way mean that the author would like to see this fantasy become reality, so if you are the type of person who might be swayed into doing something irrational by reading a work of fiction, the author respectfully requests that you decline to read further.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sawney Beane, originally a native of Edinburgh, lived for twenty-five years in a cave on the coast of County Galloway, subsisting on the flesh of unfortunate travellers, roughly a thousand of them all told. He and his wife raised a large family of eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons, and fourteen granddaughters. Eventually, the family was captured, and the whole lot was brutally and unjustifiably tortured and executed without trial. Since his death in the early 17th century, Beane has reformed his ways and now confines his atrocities to his literary endeavours.
WARNING: This story contains scenes of consensual gynophagia and androphagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I started this a long time ago. About time I finished it. I think it really is romantic.
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"You're not serious, are you, Jack?"
"I'm very serious, Alex."
"But it's absurd!"
"Nonsense; people do it all the time!"
"Yes, Jack, but not like that! It's crazy."
"Why? If I went down to Tasty Kate's and enrolled, would you call me crazy?"
I looked at my best friend thoughtfully for a long moment. "No, I suppose not, if that's really what you want to do."
Jack smiled a little. "So why is this any different?"
"Well, it's just a bit odd, you must admit."
"Perhaps, but I think it's romantic. Think about it."
I made a good faith effort top imagine that and finally had to concede. "Yes, I suppose it is a bit romantic."
Jack's smile spread to a victorious grin.
"Who is she?" I asked.
"Girl named Isabella. Lovely; English; she's perfect for me; I love her." Jack seemed a little bit dreamy and out of breath as he described his dearest.
"Yes, I can tell."
"No, really, she's great!"
"I know; she must be if you're willing to go this far for her."
"Thanks," Jack smiled at me, knowing he had me caught in the web of whatever he desired of me. "Actually, it was my idea, half of it," he commented.
"Which half?"
"Um...my half."
"I see; you really must love her."
"Yes," he stated this soberly and analytically as if confirming a scientific truth.
"OK," I sighed, "but what do you want from me?"
"Well, it's just that we're going to need some...help...eventually."
"I can imagine."
The first time I met Isabella, she and Jack had already started their unique undertaking. They were sitting together side by side in the kitchen of the small local restaurant that had agreed to host their unusual performance. They were bedded down in a pile of cushions, and the two of them sat with their arms around each other's shoulders, chatting lovingly, giggling childishly, and frequently pausing their conversation to indulge in long passionate kisses. Yes, they were definitely in love.
The scene was anything but strange, for the most part. Except that they were in a kitchen with a flock of chefs working around the little love nest, apparently ignoring the two nude lovers invading their workplace. The other odd thing is that both of them had their ankles embedded in four purposefully drilled holes in the side of the stainless steel behemoth that passed for an oven. Their feet were lost to my view.
My first impression of Isabella was that she was very tall. I was a bit embarrassed by her nudity, not sure if I should look unabashedly upon the body of my best friend's true love. In the course of the next few days, I would quickly lose this uneasiness. My furtive glances on this first occasion revealed that she had a nice meaty rump and legs as well as nice breasts and shoulders. She would have done well in any restaurant if Jack had not sealed his claim upon her. But the thing I noticed most was her dark hair and deep intelligent sparkling eyes. She seemed a very happy person, but I could not tell if she generally so or if the event was bringing out the best in her mood.
I set about arranging my cameras to begin filming. It was my idea to record the event. Jack was genuinely surprised at first, but the idea seemed to grow on him, and his mate hadn't had any objections. I am at the core a reporter and always want to report on any momentous occurrence. In an odd way, this seemed a significant enough topic for a documentary.
I filmed the couple as they waited for their feet to roast. They tried to explain themselves, but it sounded rather corny. This film was not going to be about their words nearly as much as about their deeds.
Eventually, the roast was done, and I filmed them as the opened the oven and giddily examined their golden-brown steaming toes. Then it was time to begin the first of many feasts. For this, the couple was placed side by side on a stainless steel counter. Each was placed with their heads adjacent to their partner's feet. I started the film, and both Jack and Isabella eagerly drove their teeth into the feet of their beloved. It was the beginning of the first known mutual cannibal event in history. I was glad I had decided to make the film.
I watched Jack as he carefully sucked the tender meat from Isabella's toes. She was behaving similarly but had started by biting the meat from the side of Jack's left foot. Their similar height made this exercise relatively convenient. Jack had his arms wrapped around Isabella's calves and was dropping one cleaned toe bone after another onto the stainless steel of the counter.
The feast took quite a long time, but neither seemed to lose their enthusiasm for the meal. By the time it was done, the couple didn't have an intact foot between them. Each lover found themselves in possession of two legs that ended in a cleaned bone sticking from the end of their uncooked calves. A pile of small bones occupied each end of the table, each bone cleaned better than if it had been attacked by piranhas. Both Jack and Isabella carried broad smiles on their faces, and when the assistants helped them get their faces closer together, they quickly dived into passionate kisses in which they could taste themselves on each other's tongues. It was definitely memorable.
I drove them to a hotel room and deposited them in bed together as I would do every evening for the rest of their lives. There is no doubt they continued to make love even as their bodies began to disappear. I picked them up the next morning and cleaned them up before driving them back to the restaurant for another feast.
Day 2 seemed a little less bizarre than the first day, but it was probably me getting used to matters as they stood. Of course, without feet, Jack and Isabella never stood. And it was going to get worse for them from this perspective.
In order to not occupy the kitchens for the whole time this little event would take, and also due to the awkwardness of roasting parts of their legs at a time, on this day, both lovers would have their entire legs amputated. Most of their edible flesh was in their long legs, so it would leave them with enough meat for quite some time.
I filmed everything, but it was a very medical procedure. Jack and Isabella were as cheerful as ever as the surgically-trained chef tied off their legs and sawed them off (with a sickening sound, incidentally) near the groin. They were thoroughly anaesthetized, of course. At the end of the day, the chef sent them home with a cartload of wrapped parcels, each containing a meal-sized thick steak or roast. They also went home with an ample supply of painkillers.
The lovers rode in the back of my car, their stumps thoroughly wrapped to avoid leaving me with exorbitant cleaning bills. At home, the caterer they had hired to help them with the next few days prepared masterful exotic dishes from their liberated flesh. The idea was that they would eat as much of each other as possible, so I did not venture to ask for a taste, but the aromas and presentation of these next few meals were the most amazing I have ever seen. They were both investing their savings in this venture, so the people they employed were top quality.
They worked rigorously from ankle to hip. Everything had to be in perfect order, and they took care not to get ahead of one another. I captured each of the meals on video, and their love and dedication never waned for a moment.
I have no idea how people with no legs make love, and I did not intrude in order to film the events, but it was clear that they had figured it out and were employing their newfound talents regularly. They really spent most of their non-meal times in bed, so I imagine they had time for a lot of play.
The extended leg feast took more than two weeks. They enjoyed each other at every meal, and each time they shared in the mutual delight as if it were the first time. Only when every last morsel of their legs had been consumed did they return with me to the restaurant.
On this day, they reprised the scene of their foot-feast but this time donated their hands to the cause. The hugging was a bit less possible with their hands firmly wedged in the hot oven, but they were still able to lean over and kiss frequently. This was clearly an orally-focussed relationship in any case, so they did not seem disappointed.
Once again, they sat together and nibbled upon each other's fingers until the cooked portion of their bodies had been consumed entirely. A pile of small finger bones remained on the table as the only legacy of the meal. I was used to it by now.
After one more night together, they returned to the restaurant and allowed their arms to be amputated. The caterers spent nearly another week feeding them their lover's arms. Hugging this week was severely curtailed, but it was clear that the sexual activity carried on. At this point, I care not to speculate about the gymnastics involved.
Jack really had the best part of the bargain at the next meal. He enjoyed two luscious breasts while his poor starving mate had to content herself with fried nipples. But it would not end there.
At this point, things were coming to an inevitable conclusion. Of course, the deed would not be completed. Not all the way. I think they fantasized about eating each other all the way in some sort of Escher-like dream, finally nibbling each other's necks and turning their heads inside out before blinking mutually out of existence. But clearly this was not to be in the real world. They had satisfied themselves with the closes approximation available.
But they pushed the boundaries of what was possible. Over the next several days, the surgical-chefs managed to carve large chunks from their shoulders and rumps, which they duly consumed with pleasure. It was not a last meal, but it was getting close.
When the last day finally came, they were an amazing and alarming sight to survey. They were, of course, bereft of limbs, but in addition they had stitched up wounds where breasts, shoulders, and arses once were. The chefs had been experts at knowing just how much flesh could be extracted without being fatal. And they had pushed the lovers right up to the edge.
And so on this last day, which I dutifully filmed, the latest in modern technology was employed. The wearable genital oven was strapped onto each of these diminished bodies, and the smell of roasting flesh filled the room as Jack and Isabella's genitals took on a golden-brown hue.
And then it was time for the last meal. They kissed passionately for one last time before taking up their meal positions. Isabella nibbled her way through her last blow job while Jack's tongue searched for her most intimate realm.
I watched this culinary suicide pact in breathless astonishment. My friend and I had not had a real conversation since the meals had begun, so I felt a bit of loss at him imminent demise, and Isabella was a gorgeous lass about to disappear from the earth. So it was not pleasant for me to watch. Still, they never showed any regret, no second thoughts. They showed only love and the deep hunger that is born of true love.
They neutered each other but never lost their sexuality. This meal would not end until they did. In no time at all, both of them were a devastated mess, but still they did not stop. This was passion; this was hunger. They seemed possessed and increasingly frantic as the continued to dig into the savoury flesh of their lovers. At some point they must have passed the roasted frontier, but still they did not stop.
Until they did. There was not a sound. Not a groan, not a scream, nor even a gasp. They just stopped, almost at the same time. Only a gentle sigh of pleasure escaped from them as they both stopped moving, each with their face still embedded deep in the violated flesh of their lovers.
It seemed a pity to separate them. The chef placed them side-by-side in their identically devastated state. I filmed their remains and observed the look of bliss on each of the unseeing faces. Oddly enough, I envied my friend for just a moment. Why had I not found someone to love so limitlessly?
The last thing I filmed was the funereal feast, which I was entrusted to organize. It was a big event, and I invited dozens of their friends to bid a final farewell to the pair of lovebirds. They had managed to reduce the bill of fare significantly before death, but as there were two of them, the feast was still magnificent, and the caterers did an excellent job.
The only requirement, as requested by the deceased, was that everyone who tasted the meat must consume equal portions from both carcasses. In this way, Jack and Isabella got their wish. Their bodies were mingled together for all eternity in the bellies of their friends. At last they were together as one.