Posted by jackh on December 08, 2006 at 02:38:19:
In the shade of a family of old beech trees, the Macarthurs had settled in for the long holiday afternoon. The twins, changed from their white dresses into shorts and halter-tops, crawled in the grass in search of four leaf clovers. With their coltish limbs, the girls reminded some passersby of days long gone when folks could roast up an honest to goodness veal now and then without stirring a hornets nest.
Nearby, Grandma Petunia worked in her word puzzle book while Grandpa Frank read the paper. The parents, Ruth and Arnold, shared a blanket. Arnold napped. Ruth lined up paper cups that she filled with lemonade from a cooler. Ruth knew the importance getting enough fluids on such a hot day.
In the bright sun, edging farther from the shade as the afternoon wore on, the barbecue pit snapped and sizzled. June Macarthur was spread out over the coals. The spit holed her from cunt to mouth, its ends sitting in brackets at the pit's edge. Young Danny operated a turning spit that impaled his sister's anus. He rotated her slowly, unlike the pace he'd taken when he'd fucked her a few hours earlier, half performing for the video camera. Two aunts basted June as she went around. When their arms tired, the aunts handed the long handled brushes to the grandparents, and so it went, hour after hour, for the basting needed to be continuous to keep a roast succulent. June looked entirely succulent. She'd been cooking since two o'clock and it was almost five. She would be done by seven. She was evenly brown and moist. Her mother had temporarily covered the teenage tits in foil to keep them from overcooking and Mr. Macarthur had put lens shields in the eyes after spitting her, but otherwise all of June was in the direct heat of the coals and cooking up just perfectly in Ruth's opinion.
June had been hanged. Four families contributed a girl for the hangings, always a favorite show at the festivals. June had been the youngest. Before they were taken to the gallows, the girls were forced to drink a quart or more of water to ensure good pees. June put forth an excellent pee. Her Daddy gave her a hard push on her rope and she had sailed in the shade of her tree, to and fro, jerking and kicking and arching a fine stream of pee to the delight of the crowd. All afternoon, Mrs. MacArthur had been hearing from friends stopping by the barbecue that June deservedly received the most applause of any of the hanged girls.
"Yes, we're very proud," she had said a dozen times or more.
Hanging naturally disabled a girl from being cooked alive. After she was cut down, June's carcass was laid out on a table, gutted, stuffed, spitted and brought to the pit. Arnold took pictures then, but for both Macarthur parents the hanging photos would be the most treasured.
An outburst of catcalls and whistles woke Arnold from his nap. He sat up. An attractive young woman in a yellow mini skirt and yellow jersey with O's framing her tits, stood a few yards away staring open mouthed at the barbecue. Councilwoman Brown was beside her.
"It's her!," Ruth whispered.
"Who?"
"You were sleeping. A visitor got into the village and now she's here. I don't know what's going to happen."
Councilwoman Brown brought Ginny over by the hand.
"Virginia, dear, meet Arnold and Ruth MacArthur. That beautiful roast you see is their daughter."
"Oh God, I need to sit down."
"Here, dear. Do you mind if she sits on your blanket a minute, Arnold?," Ms. Brown said.
"No, no. Please sit." The Macarthurs rose and backed away from the blanket, looking at the visitor as if she were from another planet.
"Are you appalled, dear?"
"Mrs. Brown, I'm...I'm horrified and...thrilled beyond words."
"You look pale," Ms. Brown said, putting a steadying hand on Ginny's shoulder.
"I'm a little over stimulated, I think."
Ms. Brown shifted closer. "It's your mind that's stimulated. I think your mind thinks it's having the best stimulation of its life. Your body got behind in that department, honey, but it's all right, I can give your body the stimulation it needs to catch up."
"Oh!" Ginny watched Councilwoman Brown's arm move to embrace her. Then the hand on Ms. Brown's other arm spread out on her leg.
"Really, Mrs. Brown...there are people here."
"So?"
"Moo girls get fucked in public just like doggies, sugar!," Petunia MacArthur said, expressing what others were thinking as they gathered in multiplying circles around the blanket. The cute visitor ought to learn the local customs and forget she was a Stamford snob from a big deal family was the common attitude among those who had heard about the cute visitor. None doubted that that the cute visitor would get her lesson.
"Let's see her spit holes," someone suggested.
"Lie back, honey," Ms. Brown said. She eased Ginny onto the blanket and lifted her skirt.
"I'm not a moo girl," Ginny moaned, too overcome by the sight and aromas of the cooking moo girl to resist the display Mrs. Brown was making of her. She felt the air where her skirt had been.
"Open your legs more," Ms. Brown commanded.
Ginny opened her legs, keeping her eyes closed. Ms. Brown traced a finger along the top of the jersied tits. As Ginny wondered dimly where this finger might go next, the woman inserted a separate finger in Ginny's cunt. Ginny gasped. Ms. Brown covered the quivering mouth with a kiss, and put her finger into gear.
"But you are a moo girl now," she said, breaking the kiss.
"Noooo, no. I'm just an honorary moo girl." Ginny twisted her head and bit her lip. She tried not to think about the crowd of people watching.
"Honey, whenever a girl of moo girl age enters a place where a moo girl event is going on, she becomes a moo girl herself. Perhaps I forgot to mention that. It's automatic under our rules. And you are smack in the middle of a moo girl event, deary."
"I...mmmmm... only...mmmmm... wanted to be an honorary moo girl," Ginny pouted. "Is...is there going to be another lottery?"
"Oh, no. Don't worry about the lotteries. They're over."
"Mmmmmmm, that's a relief," Ginny sighed, and freed by this reassurance she completed her surrender to Mrs. Brown's insistent finger.
"Consider that your initiation. You're a full fledged moo girl now," Mrs. Brown said after she and Ginny had resumed their walk. They strolled arm in arm.
"Except I don't have to worry about being in a lottery," Ginny pointed out.
"Correct, you don't have to worry about that. And you have one other benefit you've probably noticed. Under the circumstances, I've granted you unrestricted talking permission."
"Thanks, but I wouldn't mind if I had to say moo once in a while like the other girls."
"That's big of you, dear. Let's hear what your moo sounds like."
Ginny took a breath. "MOOOOOOooooooo!" She had never felt so deliciously wicked in her life.
Heeding her escort's warning that "haughtiness never becomes a moo girl, shyness always becomes her," Ginny bowed her head from time to time, causing her to miss many of the stares directed at her from all sides as they waded through the crowds. But she caught many others, and what stares they were! They weren't the stares a piece of ass got to know in her bikinis and designer jeans. These stares saw bait for a spit. Oh God! Ginny adjusted her hips to affect a slight wiggle. She felt the skirt swish on her thighs. She felt the sway of her tits in the jersey. Oh, she could tease like this forever if it really was meat the stares were seeing.
"Don't forget the shoulders, honey," Mrs. Brown reminded.
"Oh, right!"
Ginny suddenly understood why her jersey was sleeveless. She flexed her arms and giggled.
"Are the shoulders liked here as much as tits?"
"Not for everything, dear," Mrs. Brown replied and to show her meaning she wrapped an arm around Ginny and moved her hand onto the convenient breast and began to flagrantly assuage its nipple while they continued their walk.
"Oh!," Ginny gasped, leaning into Mrs. Brown to keep from stumbling. She wondered why she had never gone out with any men as demonstrative as Mrs. Brown.
"Mrs. Brown," she began, excitedly, "I know why you would trust me. I understand it now. I would never say anything about what you do here, never. Oh God, it is SO hot!" Looking down she had no choice except to watch the hand play with her breast.
"Of course I'm glad the lotteries are over."
"You are?"
"Right now I am. I was thinking about coming back if I could and even being in a lottery to take my chance. I was actually thinking about that. I don't know if they would let me."
"But you don't want to do it today."
"No, not today," she laughed.
"You could volunteer, honey."
"Oh, yes?"
"You're a natural. Naturals are so rare. We raise moo girls here like crops and we almost never get one like you. You love it already."
"Hmmmm, I don't know if I LOVE it."
"You love it."
They came to a glade hemmed by dogwood and overfilled by a crowd that surrounded a central barbecue pit over which the Jamison girls cooked, spitted together like a smorgasbord. The aromas from the double roast weighted the air and blended with scents that drifted in from the other fires. By now all of the fairgrounds were rich with the smell of girlroast. A breeze from the west kept back the vapors from the smoking pigs, a fact recognized by Mrs. Brown.
"That's pure girl meat you're smelling."
Ginny wasn't listening. She was gazing, mouth agape, at the sausaged sisters.
The girls had been placed on spit horses, back to back, their arms and legs spread over and tied to the legs of the horses, their chins raised on rests - a device that along with the wider top plank distinguished spit horses from large saw horses - to place the girls' throats on the same plane as their cunts.
The spit had taken Lynn first. Exiting her mouth, it had moved on to the next cunt, not six inches distant, and made Ava the second half of the smorgasbord. Both girls had survived the spitting to feel their weight on their mutual impaler as the meatmen lifted and carried them to the fire. Through the heat lenses, the girls would have observed the observers of their procession, perhaps seeing their anxious mother among the spectators. Sally had fretted about something going wrong from the second the girls were laid on the gutting table to begin their enemas. She had watched the preparations from start to finish, worrying the whole time. Now as her greased dumplings approached the coals, having been successfully gutted, cleaned, stuffed and spitted, Sally feared that one or both of her daughters would slip from the spit and land in a heap in the grass. Happily, the meatmen knew their work. The sisters glided smoothly over the pit to a sound like bacon striking a hot frying pan. A mother's concerns weren't quite over for in that first searing moment the girls jolted with such force that Sally thought the spit would dislodge from the brackets into which it had just settled with consequent disaster and mortification, but the brackets merely quivered. For several more seconds the girls twitched as they sizzled. Then they were still as a pair of burgers. Sally could finally relax.
"Come, dear," Mrs. Brown said, pulling Ginny by the hand. "Luke is waiting."
"Mrs. Brown, you gave me the shivers before when you said I could volunteer. Why did you say that?"
They were walking again.
"Because we want you to volunteer, honey."
"What?!! Why would I volunteer if I just said I didn't want to be in a lottery today? Maybe, I didn't understand you. Volunteer for what?"
"You understood. We want you to volunteer to be roasted on a spit, like the girls you've been seeing. We want you for our brunch tomorrow. The mayor thinks you'd be perfect. You won him over with that pirouette and little speech you did on the hill. One of our cameras with sound pickup was in the trees where you did it."
Ginny felt her knees go weak. Mrs. Brown held her from falling.
"Think about it, honey."
"It makes me shiver to think about it. I don't want to think about it!"
"Shhhhh, relax. Look."
They had stopped before another clearing jammed with people.
"This must be the midnight snacks. Come. If you're lucky she won't be on the coals yet."
The crowd parted to let them through. They were in luck. At the back of the clearing, the barbecue pit glowed in readiness, its heat reaching all the way to the onlookers crowding the spitting horse twenty yards to the front.
Debbie Williams, the formerly blonde school teacher, lay on her back. Debbie's hair was gone along with her eyebrows and lashes. Her head dipped below the end of the plank, supported by the adjustable rest. A round green apple muffled her. Standing by was a meatman to remove the apple and tilt back Debbie's chin when the time came. Mr. Bob himself was in charge of the spitting. Several new moo girls were with him. Mr. Bob was giving the youngsters short turns with the spit, like a dad letting the kids steer the car. At the moment, the small hands on the spit belonged to Becky Davis. Becky's moo girl skirt was rumpled and covered with grass stains and her jersey had a rip that left the tops of her tits exposed. The brown eyes looked shell shocked but Becky's pretty mouth was fixed with purpose. She gave the spit a push. Miss Midnight Snacks jerked against her ties.
"Okey dokey," Mr. Bob said. He took back the spit and gave Becky a pat on her rump, sending the teenager back to her friends.
"Getting to the tricky part folks. I'll take it from here."
Bob glanced at Ginny and nodded.
"Take a good look," he said.
Ginny blushed, wishing the man hadn't singled her out. She felt overwhelmed by what she was seeing. The last thing she wanted was the attention of this spitting person. What did he mean, anyway, by "take a good look"!?
Bob returned his attention to the work at hand. The moo girl was moments away from her final journey and it was clear that she knew it. Debbie turned her head in the rest. Her blinking eyes peered through a space that had opened between the onlookers. She could see the simmering coals. Debbie was lightheaded from what she had been through. She envied the many girls who never made it this far, who were reduced to carcasses by this point in their preparations. There were times Debbie had dreamt of being meat, when she'd masturbated thinking about the spit, imagining herself roasted and admired on a platter. She wished she could feel that way now. She was glad for the shot at least. It made things a little less horrible though it hardly made them fun. Mmmmmmm, it had been so much better when the boys fucked her. That Becky Davis certainly was more likeable when the girl had put her head between her teacher's legs than a minute ago shoving up the spit.
"Here we go," Bob said, giving a nod to the meatman. Debbie closed her eyes when she felt her head pushed back. She felt the spit near her throat. Then it was in her throat. She made a gagging sound as the apple came out. Others leaned over her now, pinning her to the plank to keep her from squirming against the ropes. The spit moved steadily, tearing at the lining of her throat, ripping her vocal chords, then, with one last push, it emerged between her teeth into the sunlight.
"Okay, get her on the fire," Bob said, breathlessly.
Ginny wondered why she felt only excitement and not pity for the doomed young woman. The crowd opened for the meatmen. Their load gleamed in the grease coating it from head to toe. The meatmen approached the pit from the front as the audience grew quiet. When they came within a few feet, they paused to adjust their grips.
"Now," said one.
In a single motion, the meatmen swung the spit over the coals and dropped the ends in the brackets. They backed quickly from the heat. Dolcett Academy's once beloved teacher began to sizzle and pop.
"Gonna have us some good midnight snacks," Bob said, smiling at Ginny.
He was looking at her tits, Ginny realized. How could a person look at her tits when he'd just spitted a girl and sent her to be cooked like a hotdog? She wanted to be disgusted, but she wasn't.
"You been fucked yet?"
"I'm sorry? You mean today?"
"The guys here are fucked out. None of em got a hardon left in em by now. Cept me, I suppose."
"Oh."
Ginny stepped back as Mr. Bob came toward her. She found herself firmly in the grasp of Mrs. Brown.
"Don't be put off by Bob's corpulence, honey. He knows how to fuck a girl. You may have to overlook his breath, however."
"But...but..."
Bob put Ginny on the ground and crawled on top of her, pushing up the yellow skirt.
Ginny turned her head, avoiding Bob's kiss, but she could do nothing about her legs. Bob spread them with his knees and now stakes were hammered into the ground to which Ginny's ankles were lashed. Bob opened his pants. His cock was long and thick, giving promise to Mrs. Brown's assertion. He put his cock all the way in and began to fuck Ginny without mercy the way Bob always fucked moo girls, the way a dog fucks. He came in under thirty seconds.
"So how did you like meeting Bob?," Mrs. Brown said, pleasantly, when she and Ginny were on the move again.
"He seemed a bit forward, to be honest."
"Ha! Well, you're about to meet Luke. You may find him forward, too."
"Really." Ginny was glad Mrs. Brown hadn't mentioned volunteering again.
They went deep into the park. The crowd thinned and after awhile they were alone on the path. Passing near the amphitheater they stopped by to see it. As they stood at the top, Mrs. Brown spoke of the lottery that morning.
"Those girls you saw, the double treat, did I tell you they were sisters? Well, this is where it happened for them. They came to the festival thinking they would have a good time. I don't think it was that much fun for them, do you? But they were certainly fun for us."
Ginny smiled. The woman was insane. Everything here was insane. How could she be drawn to it? But she was drawn. She wanted to be back where the girls were roasting. She wanted men to fuck her in the grass and see her as meat even if she was disinclined to be meat. She wondered about Luke. Why was he out here so far from the action? What would he do her? She thought of bolting to the woods but she doubted she could escape and, besides, she wanted to stay. Her excitement rose with her anxiety when they returned to the path and Mrs. Brown told her they were almost there.
"Um, there's something I should tell you, dear. By the way, are you comfortable with your decision to volunteer?"
Ginny stopped. "I didn't decide to volunteer, Mrs. Brown. I decided not to volunteer. Don't you remember? Not volunteer, repeat not."
"Oh yes. I knew it was one or the other. Anyway, do you know the name of our village?"
"It's Dullsville or..."
"Hardly that! It's Dolcettville. Does the name ring a bell?"
"Well it does. Daddy belongs to a golf club in this town called Dolcett. We live near there."
"Mmmm, and I believe you once went to your daddy's club."
"How did you know? Yes, I was like twelve. It was a beauty pageant for young girls, in dresses and these tiny bikinis, and I won. The prize was in this other room and as they started to take me there Mommy had an attack and fainted. Daddy said it was something in the food. So we went home."
"My goodness. I wonder what the prize could have been that was waiting for you in that other room. I suppose they gave the nice prize to the little girl who was first runner up."
"I believe they did. Daddy said she was incredibly cute. Mrs. Brown are you saying that Mommy and Daddy are..."
"They're girl eaters, honey, just like me, except that they do it in secret and lead otherwise respectable lives. They're coming for the brunch tomorrow. Just think how amazed and excited they would be if they saw that the meat course all golden brown and gleaming on the table was you."
"I'm sorry, I like totally don't believe this. It's..."
"It's true, dear. Do you remember how you met Henry?"
"Daddy found him wandering in the road, disoriented, and he brought him to his office to check him out. I was there helping with the paperwork."
"It was the road outside Dolcett. Apparently Henry was attracted there but he didn't know why. If your father had recognized him a lot of things would have turned out differently, yes? Honey, your daddy and the mayor of Dolcett went to college together. Your daddy is the mayor's doctor. They're friends. Your mother and the mayor's wife get along well, too. They make some of the best girl roast stuffing, I'm told."
Ginny and Mrs. Brown walked in silence for a while.
"You said that I was a natural, Mrs. Brown. Do you think it's in my genes?"
"I wouldn't know, dear."
"Well, I hate to say it but in a way it makes sense. Mommy and daddy would go to these outings and they would bring back leftovers and it was always the same kind of meat, I never knew what it was, they would only say it was 'party meat', that's what they called it. I really liked it and I used to ask Mommy to buy some at the store and she would laugh and say something like 'one of these days'. They must know I'm here, right?
"Yes. Your daddy helped us figure things out on the phone."
"Hmmm, well I'm sorry if I'm going to disappoint them by not being on the platter when they come for brunch," Ginny said, making a pout.
"I always thought they were such old fuddy duddies."
"Ah, we're here," Mrs. Brown declared.
They had come to a clearing and through the woods another fifty yards or so off, seemingly on the other side of the path, Ginny made out a second clearing, a cooking site with picnic tables and an empty barbecue pit, and at one of the tables were people, maybe three, in red shirts, the kind of shirts that the meatmen wore. In the middle of the near clearing was an oak tree, and there, taking its ease in the tree's broad shade, leaned a black metal pole, narrowed like a giant needle. Ginny stopped when she saw it. She barely breathed. She stared particularly at the pole's long tapered point to where it met the bark.
"Someone should put that spit down," she said, annoyed.
"Why is that, dear?"
"Because it shouldn't be standing up like that. It looks so....arrogant." Her voice trailed off. She realized she sounded foolish.
"Well, he is arrogant. That's Luke, honey. I'm so happy you connected with him so soon."
"What?"
"He's been waiting for you. Go say hello."
Ginny turned her head away. "Mrs. Brown, I'm shocked you would....I'm just shocked! I thought you were taking me to a man."
"Luke's as interesting as any man. Go say hello."
"I'm not going to say hello to a spit, and definitely not that spit. Sorry!"
"You should feel honored, honey. Luke's our biggest single. He's a little thicker than the others, and longer and you can see how handsome he is the way he tapers down to that long, long point and there is something about his blackness that makes him catch the light a certain way. He gleams more than the other spits do. We saved him just for you. You know why? You're the one he wants."
"Oh God."
"Go see him and say hello. It won't hurt."
"Mrs. Brown if you're trying to get me to volunteer, I'm not going to."
"Did I mention volunteering? Go ahead, do it, just for fun."
"It's silly."
"So be silly."
"I don't want to."
"But you do."
Ginny swallowed. "I can't believe this," she mumbled, taking a step toward the tree. In a few seconds, she was there.
"Hello Luke." She used her cutest voice, for Mrs. Brown's benefit. If she was going to be silly she might as well do it!
"Touch him, he won't mind. Run your hand up and down on him, he likes that."
"Oh, Mrs. Brown, you're too much," Ginny laughed.
She put her palm on the shaft. It was cool and smooth and hard. The feel of it made her heart pound. She closed her hand around it, stroking the narrowing end until the bark scraped her knuckles. She closed her eyes then and lightly leaned against it. How strong it seemed.
"He wants to see you, honey. Get down on your hands and knees and show him what he wants to see."
"What do you mean?"
"You know."
"Where he would spit me, you're saying, " Ginny said, so softly that Mrs. Brown wasn't sure she had heard it.
"Yes."
"Mrs. Brown...."
"Do it. Just for fun."
Ginny turned around. She knelt in the grass. She lifted her moo girl skirt and laid it back. She rested her chin in her hands. She closed her eyes and imagined how she must look, exposing herself to a stick of metal. She groaned.
"Ask him to fuck you, honey."
"No, no."
"Ask him."
"All right."
Ginny closed her eyes. Her breath caught. Oh God, Mrs. Brown was right. She did want it. The first searing image came back to her of Danny MacArthur cranking his sister over the pit. She put her cheek to the ground and reached again for her skirt. She exposed herself to her waist.
"Fuck me, Luke. Fuck me both places," she half whimpered, half hissed in the dirt.