Feast Day

Posted by PK on November 03, 2007 at 15:57:50:

"Nearly time," Karen noted, glancing at the clock. "We'd better get dressed for dinner." She pulled her sweatshirt off over her head. "It's that time of the month...."

"Oh, very funny," her roommate Julie grumbled. She stood up from her desk and started to unbutton her blouse. "I don't see why we all have to go naked. Why can't they just wait until the lottery's called?"

It was not a new argument. Karen unzipped her jeans and pulled them down. "Yes, I know, we don't strictly need to be naked unless we get chosen, etcetera. They could wait until our number's called, if it is, and then we get undressed, blah blah.." She started to pull off her panties.

"Well, it's true," Julie protested. "We don't need..."

"It's not about need," Karen pointed out patiently. "It's just part of the fun. Don't you enjoy showing off a bit? Watching all the guys watching you, wondering if they're hoping you'll be picked?" She tossed her panties negligently onto a chair.

"Gives me the creeps," Julie grumbled.

"Oh, lighten up. Can't blame the guys for copping an eyeful, can you? If you didn't like the idea, you shouldn't have come here. You must have read the prospectus, surely?"

"Yes, I read it. I came here because of the lower fees for female students," Julie retorted. "I didn't like the conditions much, but what can you do? My parents aren't rich, they couldn't have afforded a college this prestigious without the discount." She unhooked her bra with evident reluctance and put it neatly into a drawer.

"I don't know what you're worried about," Karen said. "You look fine." She bent down and fastened her elegant sandals.

"And you're not worried about being chosen? Come on."

"I'm not worried about being seen naked, which is what you were actually moaning about," Karen pointed out. "And neither should you. As for the rest, we both knew what we were getting into."

"Hmmph," Julie grunted as she slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops. "I still think it's barbaric. Roasting the female students just for those horny old bastards on the faculty..."

"It's only one student a month," Karen said reasonably.

"Except on special occasions like today, when it's four," Julie objected. "Didn't you read the notice?"

"Oh, yeah, well, it's the summer cookout. Feast Day. Some of the senior students get invited too, if their grades are good enough, so of course they need more meat. It's an incentive scheme."

"Meat!" Julie spat.

"Well, we are," Karen said complacently, running her hands sensuously down her perfect flanks. She licked her lips. "Delicious meat...."

"You're mad," Julie said, wry-mouthed.

Karen grinned. "Well, you know what they say, you don't have to be mad to work here..."

"But it helps, yes, I know. That old chestnut."

"Better get going, we don't want to be late, do we?"

Julie couldn't disagree with that. If you didn't turn up for registration, they'd come looking for you and then it was the spit for sure. She stuffed a slipover dress into a shoulder bag. Karen held the door for her with mock gallantry and gave her a pat on her pert rump as she walked out. "Hey!" she said with an outraged look over her shoulder.

"Oh, come on," Karen said. "I could fancy a bit of that myself."

Julie didn't dignify that with a reply, just snorted, but she was too concerned with other matters to make an issue of it. "I just hope I didn't fail that last test," she fretted.

"Fat chance," Karen said as they walked. "You never fail. Look on the bright side, maybe somebody else did and that will be one less number for them to pick out of the hat."

"That's horrible," Julie said.

"Why? Seems sensible to me. Somebody's got to ride the pole, rather them than you, right? You'll be hoping your number doesn't come up, won't you? That means somebody else's will instead. Same thing."

It was true that failing students were sometimes sent to the spit, which meant one less for the lottery. It didn't happen often, for obvious reasons. Another wonderful incentive scheme, Julie thought sourly. "I suppose," she allowed grudgingly.

Students and staff were converging on the picnic ground, all the girls naked but for those wearing shoes. Some of them, like Julie, carried a change of clothes in a bag, intending to cover up again as soon as they could. Various cheery or rueful greetings were exchanged.

"Hi, Karen," one youth hailed them and, as an afterthought, "Julie."

"Hi James. You're a guest this time? I never took you for the scholarly type," Karen replied.

"Some things are worth working for," James said, eyeing Karen appreciatively. "God, I hope you get picked. Oh shit, no, I didn't mean that..."

"Sure you didn't," Karen smirked.

"Sorry, my mouth gets ahead of my brain sometimes. Not hard to do. Of course I don't HOPE you get picked." He let out a breath, looking befuddled. "But if you do, if you don't mind me saying so, I won't be leaving until there's nothing left of you but bones."

"How sweet. Now if I go to the spit I can comfort myself with the image of you gnawing the last scraps of flesh from my tender toes," Karen said, smiling.

"I would, too," James said, fervently, glancing down at Karen's shapely feet. "I'd eat any part of you I could get."

"Gallantry is not dead," Karen approved. "Well, love to chat but we've got to get on...."

"Oh, of course. See you later then. Good luck!"

"What a pig," Julie said as they walked on.

"Don't be such a prig. He was just being honest. What do you think he came here for if not to eat some prime girlflesh? Might as well be mine as anybody's. You're just jealous because it wasn't your toes he wanted to nibble."

Julie sniffed.

The pair approached the signing in booth. It resembled the lemonade stand Lucy from Peanuts used to dispense psychiatric advice. Behind it stood one of the few female members of the faculty, a woman in her thirties with a good enough body to go naked, which she was, presumably as a mark of respect to the students who might be about to get eaten.

"Hello, Julie," she said. "I must say I really enjoyed reading your last essay. Well, hopefully not your last, exactly..."

"Hello, Professor Dougal," Julie said warily. Or wearily.

"But, of course, if it is...." The Prof shrugged expressively, most of the expression in her nipple erection.

"Must be difficult," Julie said. "What to do? Read my next brilliant essay or eat me."

"Well, exactly. Not that it's up to me, of course. Don't worry about the exam, though. You passed with flying colours."

"That's nice to know." Now Julie only had to worry about the draw.

"If you'd like to have a drink with me afterwards, in my study...assuming there is an afterwards...?"

"I'll think about it."

Julie signed the registration book and got a number tag to hang round her neck. Karen did the same.

"Seems like you have your admirers too," Karen said.

"Don't remind me," Julie said. "Prof Dougal has had the hots for me for months. I'm never sure whether she'd rather take me to dinner or have me for dinner."

"Bit of both, I expect. Are you going to go? She's pretty good looking for a Professor."

"Not my type. As in not a guy. I'm not gay, remember?"

Karen shrugged. "I'd fuck her. I'm not a lesbian either, exactly, but I'm flexible and she's hot."

"You go for the drink, then."

"Maybe I will, unless it's just you she fancies. Besides, don't you think it might be useful to have a friend on the faculty? Maybe if you keep putting off her advances, she'll mark your next test as failed so she can have you spitted instead. Get your pussy cooked if she can't have it raw...."

Julie looked horrified. "She wouldn't!"

Karen laughed. "Probably not, just my machiavellian mind. Behaviour like that tends to be frowned upon in academic circles, I'm told. Still, isn't it heartwarming to know that somebody will thoroughly enjoy eating you if you do get cooked?"

"Good point. I can hardly contain my joy. Now I'll hardly mind at all if I get spit roasted, knowing that."

Karen laughed again. "Hi Barb," she greeted another arrival. "Still got the landing strip, I see."

Barbara shrugged. "If they pick me, they'll have to shave me on the spot," she said. "So? It's all part of the experience, they say."

Karen nodded. "Each to their own. If it's going to be your last experience, why not enjoy it your own way?"

"My thought exactly."

"So you'll be opting for live roasting, then? Not the quick trim?"

"Yes. Tough decision, but I think I'll go for the last pole dance. Having my head chopped off with an axe has it's own brutal appeal, but it's over too fast. It might be fun seeing my own decapitated body twitching, but I can't see it being orgasmic if I'm not connected to my clit. No, I'll go the whole way in one piece."

"Me too," Karen approved. "I'd want to watch everybody watching me turn over the coals and smell my own flesh starting to cook." Both girls turned to look at the roasting supports being set up over four fire pits.

"Not that you could see much with your head transfixed by the spit coming out of your mouth and the heat haze," Barb noted.

"True, but it's the principle of the thing. You'd know they were there watching you even if they're just blurs..."

"Admiring your parts from every angle, gleaming with sweat and juices..."

"Before you snuff it and they slit your belly and take your guts out so you can finish cooking faster..."

"Do you think we could talk about something slightly less gruesome?" Julie put in.

"Don't mind her, she's just nervous," Karen explained. "Don't worry, Jules, it will be over soon. I think everybody's registered now."

Sure enough, somebody had set up a crude podium and set the lottery machine on it. Just a tumbling device with some numbered balls in it, nothing hi-tech and fancy, but far harder to tamper with than a computer. Professor Dougal was holding the completed register so they could tell which number was whose.

"So, without further ado," the Dean said, after a welcoming speech that nobody bothered to listen to, "The first selection is....excuse me?" Somebody had come up beside him and spoken in his ear. "Oh," he cleared his throat and resumed. "Number 57, that's...." Prof Dougal consulted the register and Julie glanced hastily at her number tag, though she knew it wasn't her. "Susan Smith. Please report to the preparation area."

The person in question could be seen receiving commiserations and farewell hugs from friends who were probably feeling guiltily glad that it wasn't them.

"The second selection is number 205......(the usual pause for consultation)....Karen.."

Karen felt her stomach lurch in the split second it took for the Dean to get to the surname. She hadn't memorised her number. Adrenalin hit her like an electric shock.

"Mitchell," the Dean continued, unaware of her consternation, not that he'd have cared.

I'm 422, Karen told her racing heart. 422. Not 205. It's not me.

"Tough luck, Kay," Julie said with heavy irony. "Maybe next time."

Karen gave her a rueful but friendly smile. Point taken. Or not.

"367," The Dean said, "Which is..."

Karen knew from the expression on Barb's face before the words confirmed it.

"Barbara Allen."

Barb nodded at the confirmation with admirable stoicism. "I'd better go," she said, squaring her shoulders. "Nice seeing you. You too, Julie."

Julie looked shocked.

Karen grabbed Barb and hugged her fiercely, tears in her eyes. "Oh Barb, I'm so sorry..."

Barb ran her fingers through Karen's curly mane and kissed her on the mouth. "Don't be," she said. "I've often wondered what it would be like. Now I'll find out. Wish it could be you eating me."

Karen's belly was in warm contact with Barb's. Blood engorged her loins. "I wish it could be too.."

"And fourth, 205. Karen Parker," the Dean droned on. "Oh, wait a minute..."

"Oh fuck," Karen exclaimed.

Barbara broke the clinch. "Omigod, you too? But..." she glanced at Karen's tag, "You're not 205...it's a mistake..."

"Sorry, slight mistake, slip of the tongue," the Dean continued, "We've already had 205. Must have it stuck in my brain. Can't roast her twice, hehe. But we can have another Karen. Yes, it's 422, Karen Parker!"

"The bastard," Julie snapped. "He says it like you've just won an Oscar. Oh, shit, Kay...." Tears were not just in her eyes but streaming down her face.

"Steady, Jules," Karen said. "It's like I said, we knew what we were getting into. No point complaining now. Look on the bright side, you made it."

"I don't care!" Julie blurted, and just for a moment it was almost true. "It's just..."

"Not fair?" Karen teased. She gave Julie an affectionate and comforting hug. "Stick around, maybe you'll get one of the special tickets. Then you'll have a taste of me to remember me by."

Special tickets, Julie remembered, were sometimes handed out to female students for academic achievement, as long as they weren't already on the menu. "You'd really want me to....?" She flushed at Karen's expression. "Of course you would. Well, I suppose." She tried to affect a casual mien. "I suppose I could hang around for a bit."

"Thanks Jules." Karen kissed her on the nose. "Now Barb and I have an urgent appointment, so if you don't mind, we'd better get on."

Leaving Julie behind looking distraught, Karen and Barbara went together to the preparation area. "Scared?" Barb asked out of the corner of her mouth.

"Shitting bricks," Karen replied under her breath. "Kind of excited too, though. Weird, isn't it?"

"I know what you mean. I'll be hard pressed not to come while they're shaving me. Hi, folks."

One young blonde woman was sitting in a shallow bathtub being oiled by eager helpers. "Hi," she said, sticking out a greasy hand. "Karen Marshall. Susie's over there by the block." Barb and Karen introduced themselves while the prep team evaluated them. "Going the whole way then?"

"Yes," the pair said in unison.

"Susie's going for the quick chop."

A slim, dark girl was tying her hair up next to a wooden chopping block, accompanied by an eager looking senior student with an axe. She turned and waved briefly and the pair waved back.

"One shear and one shave," one of the helpers commented on seeing Karen's hair and Barbara's pubes. "Over here."

"Just a minute," Karen said, watching Susan Smith having her hands tied behind her back. The girl knelt down slowly.

"I hope you know how to use that thing," she said as she bent over, fitting her neck into the hollow in the block. The axe came down with a meaty 'thunk!' and her body collapsed as her head came off neatly.

"I guess that answers her question," Karen noted. "He does."

"Hardly famous last words," Barb commented.

The axeman lifted Susan's head to let her watch her own body, now just meat, being lifted onto a wooden cutting table, where another helper slit her belly unceremoniously and began dumping her entrails into a bucket.

"I think I saw her eyes move," Karen said. "So maybe you do stay alive for a bit."

"Ready now?"

Barb and Karen were escorted to a couple of makeshift barbers' chairs. Barbara leaned back and spread her knees to expose her pubic region as much as possible. "Try not to nick me," she told the man kneeling between her legs with a razor.

Karen had barely seated herself when her personal barber began cutting off her hair in wholesale quantities. Thick sheaves of curly, blonde-brown hair fell to the ground. "You could stuff a pillow with this mop," he said cheerily.

"Feel free," Karen said. "I won't be needing it."

It didn't take very long, but by the time both girls were suitably shorn, Susan's headless and gutted body had already been slipped onto a spit. A crossbar kept her ankles a foot or so apart, spreading her legs.

"Wow," Karen noted, standing up and feeling a bit light-headed. "That was quick."

"It's quicker when they're dead and empty", Karen Marshall noted. She had stepped out of the oiling bath and stood glistening with herb-infused cooking oil. She looked delicious already, enough to make Karen's mouth water. "They cook faster that way too. Spitting us will take longer, if they do it right. Fingers crossed. Looks like I'm first up." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, let's do it." She climbed carefully onto a table and knelt on knees and elbows with her rump in the air. Somebody came forward with a businesslike spit.

"In the bath, you two," one of the aides said. "We'll do you together."

Julie got a soft drink from a refreshment stand and stood sipping it disconsolately. Karen was gone; it was hard to get her head around it. A lot of the other girls had left, some of them putting their clothes back on first, after the lottery was done and they knew they'd escaped this time. She still had her slipover dress in her bag, it didn't seem necessary or right to put it on. Not yet.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Julie turned round. "Oh, hello Professor."

Prof Dougal was still naked too. "Call me Joan," she said. "You're not in class now."

Julie took in Joan's statuesque body at a glance. "Okay, Joan," she said, stressing the name sardonically, "I was thinking that my friend is going to be killed and eaten. And now I'm thinking you'd make a pretty good roaster yourself and I'd rather it was you than her. How am I doing?"

"Very well," Joan said, unperturbed. "And thank you, I like to think I would. You should put that much passion and honesty into your essays more often. There was a hint of it in your last one, that's why I liked it so much. Your academic progress can't be faulted, of course, and you have a fine intellect, but you tend to hold back a bit, play it too safe. A real historian isn't afraid to put a point across strongly. Which one was your friend, exactly?"

"Karen Parker. She was with me when I registered."

"Oh, her. Yes, quite a lovely girl. She'll make a fine roast, I think. Would you like a real drink? You look a bit peaked." Without waiting for an answer, Joan got two glasses of whisky out of the popstand by some Professorial magic and handed one to Julie.

Julie knocked it back in one and handed the glass back for a refill while she was still choking.

"Sip it this time, or you'll be incapable long before your friend's done for," Joan said. "I assume that's why you're still here, to see her off?"

"Yes," Julie admitted. "Sorry about before, I didn't mean to sound hostile."

"Quite all right. As I said, you were just being honest. Of course you'd rather see me roasted than your friend, it's only natural. Not going to happen, I'm afraid. My student days are behind me, I've done my time on the prospective menu."

"You were a student here?" Julie's eyebrows were raised.

"Oh yes. I've run the gauntlet, paid my dues, whatever you want to call it. Off to the banqueting hall or the picnic ground in my bare skin every month, waiting to hear whether my number would be called, just like you."

"And now it's your turn at the dinner table?"

"Yes, and why not? I've earned the right."

Julie didn't want to argue the point. "I was a bit worried about that last essay," she admitted instead, changing the subject. "Thought I might have gone a bit too far pressing my point."

"Not at all, it was controversial but very well argued. Mere hacks think being controversial is enough in itself without bothering to justify it. Second raters stick to what's safe, they might as well just paraphrase the textbooks. You're better than that."

"Thank you. Karen thought you might have marked me down just so you could have me for dinner." Julie blurted and then flushed. "She was just joking, I think, sorry..."

Joan laughed aloud. "Oh, don't be, that hoary old conspiracy theory has been around as long as the college has and it will never die. I even thought of it myself, about old Prof Trelawney. He definitely had his eye on me. But I'm still here, as you see. I suppose you've got the idea that I've had my lustful eye on your luscious young flesh?"

Julie turned a deeper shade of red. "I, well, er..."

"Well I have. I've fancied you since I first saw you, but I'm getting the impression you're not interested."

"Well, no, sorry. It's nothing personal. You're good looking and you're a great teacher but I'm just not that way inclined."

"Fair enough. The next time I invite you for a drink and a chat, that's all it will be unless you change your mind, so don't bolt like a hunted rabbit, all right?"

"All right."

"As for the other thing, I always mark fairly. If your number ever does come up, I'll eat you with the greatest of pleasure, but I won't cheat in order to do it. I won't save you if you fail, either, but that doesn't seem likely."

"That's good to know," Julie said, sipping her whisky thoughtfully. Of course the Prof could be lying, but somehow she didn't think so. "Thanks."

"Not at all. I find it helps to clear the air sometimes," Joan said breezily. "Now, about your friend Karen. She should be through prep any time now. Do you want to watch her being spitted?"

Julie shuddered slightly. "Not especially. I just thought I'd watch her roast for a bit, so she knows she's not alone, until she's, well, gone..." Her eyes blurred again.

"Oh, I think we can do better than that," Joan said briskly. "Did she suggest at all that she might like you to remember her in a more, shall we say, intimate way?" She smiled.

Julie remembered what Karen had said. "Yes, she did, but I can't..."

"Yes, you can," Joan said, pulling something out of her shoulder bag. A glossy card, edged in red and gold and embossed.

Julie blinked. "Is that....?"

"A special dinner invitation, yes. Awarded to selected women students on merit only. As your professor, it's in my gift and, after all, you are my most promising student. When you're seeing your friend Karen off, show her this. Hold it up in front of her so you're sure she can see it. Then she'll know you're going to do her the honour."

Karen and Barbara stepped into the bath together and cautiously slipped and slithered down to a sitting position, facing each other with their legs entangled.

"This is cosy," Barbara commented. She began to slather herb-scented cooking oil onto Karen's breasts and shoulders. "We can marinade each other."

Karen dipped her hands into the oil and returned the compliment. "What could be nicer?" she said

Karen Marshall, meanwhile, was having a spit slipped into her well-lubricated pussy. "No hurry, guys," she panted. "Slow and steady, do it right, not fast." She thrust back and the shaft entered a good six inches. "Ohhhhh....." she gasped. "Give me a second," she wriggled a bit, "Okay, a little more..."

"I think she's enjoying herself," Karen said.

"Sounds like it," Barb agreed. "Look, there goes Susan."

"Most of her, anyway," Karen noted. Susan's spitted body, now oiled and stuffed, was being carried off to the fire pits. Her head was on a table, her open eyes now sightless.

"Yup, her head will make a nice trophy for the staff room. The rest of her is just meat. Like Karen Two is going to be shortly...."

"AAaaaahhh...." Karen Two punctuated the dialogue, "More!"

"And then us. We're meat too, living meat, just a couple of steps behind them, and here we are actually preparing ourselves..." She massaged Karen's upper thigh with oil, "..and it makes me so horny I could fuck a goat."

"Will I do?" Karen grabbed Barbara and kissed her hard, her hands roving all over her body. They writhed together in mutual frenzied passion, slipping and sliding about in the bath, as Karen Two engaged herself with the spit, working herself rather noisily to a climax as accompaniment, a rising crescendo of "Yes, yes, YESSSS.."

One of the assistants poured another bottle of cooking oil over them. "I don't think these two need much help," he commented.

"Self marinading girlflesh," another said. "Isn't it a wonderful thing? I hope somebody's taking pictures."

Karen Mitchell was now past actual words, which was just as well. Her last utterance was a prolonged wail which was cut off with a brief "Ackk!" when the spit slid past her throat and out of her mouth.

Karen and Barb broke for air. "And now she's done," Karen panted. "And we're next. We're next. Oh God..."

"I think that will do, ladies," one of the assistants said. "We're almost ready for you now."

Barbara stood up a little unsteadily and stepped out. "So much for foreplay," she said, breathing heavily and her legs trembling slightly. She offered Karen a hand up. "Now we really get fucked."

"Profess.....er, Joan, this is fantastic! It's exactly what she'd want. Thank you so very much!"

Joan shrugged, which had an interesting effect on her frontage. "No need for thanks; that prize is, as I said, awarded for merit. I was going to give it to you anyway, that's mostly why I came to see you."

"Mostly? And the other reason?"

"One last crack at seducing you, of course, but that seems to be off the table. Never mind. You could at least have dinner with me, though."

"It's a deal." Julie was definitely warming to Joan. Okay, the woman really did want to eat her, as she'd often suspected, but now it was confirmed and out in the open it bothered her less rather than more. She was so forthright about it that it was hard to take offense. Exactly what Karen had said about James. Point to you, Kay, she thought.

"I'm relieved to know you're not some vegetarian or religious nutcase, or the ticket would have been wasted," Joan said. "It's not transferable, I put your name on it."

Julie glanced at ticket. It did indeed have her name on it, and an authorising signature: Prof. J R Dougal. Joan hadn't used the ticket as bait or a bargaining tool, as she could have. She'd just given it to her without any conditions.

"I hope that's not your friend arriving now," Joan observed.

What? Julie looked around. Two men were carrying a spit through the sparse crowd, bearing a headless female body. Her heart jumped. But it didn't look quite right. Slightly darker skinned and smaller, surely? Hard to tell from this angle, with the oil on and the head off, but it didn't look like Karen. "I don't think so," she said hopefully, recalling an earlier conversation, "I'm pretty sure Karen and Barb wanted to go on the fire alive."

Joan nodded. "That would have been my choice too, in my day. However, why speculate when you have a source?" She patted Julie on the shoulder. "What have I taught you? Start with the facts." She strode towards the pole bearers who were loading the body onto the upright supports. After questioning them with brisk, professorial authority, she returned. "Not your friend," she said. "This is Susan Smith. Next will be Karen Mitchell, last seen being spitted alive, while your Karen and Barbara had been trimmed and were being oiled up."

"That's a relief," Julie said. "Let's get a beer. I don't want to get drunk too fast but I don't think I can get through this entirely sober."

It didn't take long for the assistants to get Karen Mitchell's hands and feet lashed to crossbars on the pole. "Don't worry, babe," one of them said reassuringly. "We'll get you over the coals while you're still breathing. Just relax." Two of them shouldered the pole and lifted it steadily so as not to jar her. The girl's ribcage showed her deep, steady breathing.

"Doesn't she look magnificent?" Barb said admiringly.

"She does," Karen agreed, watching half-mesmerised as the elegant living roast was carried away to her final destination, her bare soles pale and delicate looking, toes slightly curled. She curled her own toes in the grass in sympathy and looked down at her feet. Would James really eat them? A sudden thought struck her. "Omigod. Where are my shoes?" She looked around in a panic and saw them exactly where she'd left them, next to the bath.

"You won't be needing those any more," the nearest helper pointed out.

"I know, but they're really good shoes, don't throw them away. I want my friend Julie to have them. Julie Grant, first year history. Can you do that for me, please?"

"Of course. We try to honour last requests if they're reasonable and I'm certainly not going to wear them. Bob," he turned to a presumably junior helper. "Take those sandals and nip over to the dining area. See if there's a Julie Grant there. If not, give them to Prof Dougal to pass on."

"Thank you." Karen caught Barb's wry smile. "What? Yes, I know. Now my shoes are in safe hands I can relax and get on with being spitted and cooked...."

"Right, ladies, up on the table. We'll do you together."

"Doesn't she look magnificent?" Joan said admiringly, unwittingly echoing Barb's comment, but it was Susan she was looking at, turning on her spit over the coals.

Julie considered the question seriously, sipping her low-alcohol lager. ("Only two percent," Joan had explained, "You can drink it all day and never get more than mildly buzzed.") Not so long ago she would have rejected the proposition without thinking, a kneejerk reaction. In fact, the spitted girl did look good. The curve of her breasts, the graceful lines of her legs, all seemed perfectly in harmony with the central line of the spit. "Aesthetically, you could say that," she said. "If that were a piece of erotic sculpture, for instance."

"Art is more than line and form, though," Joan countered. "It's an experience."

"Then what matters in the end is just your gut reaction? Yes, she looks beautiful like that, in a strange way. Pity about Susan herself, though, she's dead."

"Fair comment," Joan said. "My gut reaction is that I'm looking forward to eating her and I like my food to look good. Presentation is part of the meal. Pity about Susan, as you say, but you can't have roast girl without roasting a girl."

"And there's no point my saying it's morally wrong, because you won't agree. You'll just say we knew the game and if we didn't like it we shouldn't have joined."

"Quite right. And here comes the second course."

Another girl, this one with her head still on, was being positioned carefully over another coal bed. She was still moving, if the heat haze wasn't playing tricks with her eyes. "She's still alive!" Julie exclaimed. "Oh my God!"

"Yes, she is," Joan said, amused. "Never seen this before, then?"

"Professor Dougal?" A thin youth with an anxious expression had arrived, slightly out of breath.

"Yes?"

"I've been looking all over for you. Do you know a Julie Grant? Is she here?"

"You may notice an attractive, naked girl standing right next to me."

"Oh, right. You're Julie? Right. Well, I'm supposed to give you these. A friend of yours wants you to have them." He held out an expensive-looking, elegant pair of sandals.

Karen's, of course. Her favourite ones, that she'd seen her putting on not so long ago. Julie took them carefully and said "Thank you." She put her glass down carefully on the ground and sat down next to it. Then she burst into tears.

Karen climbed onto the spitting table, side by side with Barbara. "You know, I can't believe this is really it. I knew it might happen but, now it has....."

"And next stop the roasting pit," Barb said, "And I'm still horny as Hell. Probably will be for the rest of my life."

"Which could be a whole half hour or even more," Karen said. "I'm still scared half to death and still excited. It's weird. Everything is incredibly vivid but not quite real, like I'm tripping or something."

"Drink this," one of the helpers said, holding a small glass in each hand.

"What is it?" Barb asked.

"A mildly narcotic concoction. It will help with the pain and the heat."

"Did the last girl take it? Will we still be able to feel?" Karen asked urgently.

"She did, and you will. Trust me, it's the best way."

"If it was good enough for her," Karen said, remembering Karen M's reaction to being spitted. She took the drink and knocked it back, spluttering a bit from drinking in an awkward position. Barb followed suit.

"Brace yourselves," somebody said from behind.

Karen gasped as she felt a hard object slip into her pussy, and heard Barb gasp too. "Synchronised spitting," she muttered, "How nice."

The spit slid forward smoothly and inexorably, about a good cock's length into her. It felt good. She wanted more. Almost involuntarily, she gripped the metal shaft internally and moved against it. Fucking the spit, she'd heard it happened. That's what the other Karen had done, just before they skewered her end to end. That's what she would do.

"I think just one more whisky wouldn't hurt," Professor Dougal said, squatting down next to Julie and offering a glass. A couple of minutes had passed and the first storm had subsided.

Julie was holding the shoes to her chest, her face wet and her eyes tinged with red. "You probably think I'm being silly," she said, "Crying over a pair of shoes."

"No, I don't," Joan said. "You're crying for Karen because she's your friend. The shoes just brought it home to you. She's gone and she was thinking of you. It's a perfectly normal human reaction. You know this as well as I do."

"You know what's funny?" Julie asked rhetorically. "Karen would have agreed with you. She knew the rules when she joined, no point complaining if she lost the toss. And you know what else? If you'd invited her up to see your etchings, she'd have gone with you."

"My loss, then," Joan said. "Nothing compared to yours, of course. The point is, what do you do now? Tell me to bugger off if you want to, I won't take it amiss."

"No, that's okay. It's not your fault. Karen didn't even need the reduced fees, did you know that? Her parents are quite wealthy." She took off her sloppy flip-flops and threw them away, put on Karen's sandals and fastened the straps carefully. She stood up. The shoes felt good on her feet. "What do I do now? I'm going to keep these and wear them. And I'm going to eat Karen because she wanted me to."

Karen was developing a relationship with her final lover, a long metal pole. It was necessarily going to be a short affair, but an intense one. It was pressing hard against her cervix, wanting more of her.

"Got them both seated right?" somebody asked.

"Think so," somebody else said. Barb gave a short, indrawn hiss. "Yup. Breakthrough point."

"Okay, ladies, this is the big one. It will hurt a bit. Brace yourselves again."

One more push, Karen thought, and that will be that. It will break through into my belly and I'll really be done for. "Ready, Barb?" she asked lightly.

"As I'll ever be," Barb said with a wry smile.

"Okay. Do it guys." Skewer me, turn me into meat on a stick. Her heart rate increased and she started to pant. She held herself stiff and steady. Hope Jules likes the shoes, she thought wildly. Hope she waits for me. Of course she will. Dear, strait-laced, loyal Jules. Here I go... She closed her eyes.

"Hold on! Stop!" somebody said. A new voice. "Is Karen Parker still here?"

What the fuck? Karen thought.

"Yes, the one on the right. We're just about to do her. What's the problem?"

"She's off the menu. Prof Fellowes discovered a cheater. Marcy Raines. We caught her leaving the grounds. You know the rules. Last one called."

Somebody gave a theatrical sigh. "Okay. Dammit, I just had her ready." Karen felt the pole slipping out of her. Her vaginal walls clenched, perversely reluctant to let it go, but it left her anyway, leaving her feeling oddly empty. "Get down, Miss Parker, you're off the hook."

Karen felt dizzy and didn't move for a second or two. What about Barb? she thought. I can't just leave her.

"You heard the man," Barb said urgently, "Get down before they decide they might as well spit five of us. Don't let my last thought be that you died just to keep me company."

"Okay," Karen sighed. "Thanks, Barb." She climbed off the table and stumbled slightly, her knees a bit shaky.

The newcomer, a tallish lad with ginger hair, was holding a leash. On the other end was a slightly plump, dark haired, big-breasted girl wearing nothing but a slightly sour expression. Her hands were behind her back, presumably tied.

"Oh well, plenty of meat on this one," one of the spit-handlers said. "What's the story?"

"She cheated, Prof just found out, we barely caught her in time, that's all you need to know. Should have sent a message ahead but there was a bit of a mix up, sorry about that."

"Cheated?" Karen echoed. It was unreal.

The buxom girl took this as an accusation. "If I hadn't cheated I'd have failed anyway," she shrugged. "Nothing to lose by trying."

"Of course not," Karen said sympathetically. "No harm done." Jesus wept, a last minute rescue? Who'd have believed it?

"Miss Parker," the ginger lad said. "Professor Fellowes sends his apologies for any distress caused by his tardiness and offers this complimentary ticket in recompense."

Karen took the object. A special invitation, properly authorised. This just got more surreal by the second.

"Miss Raines, in the oil bucket. Finish spitting the other one," one of the helpers said impatiently.

"Barbara," Karen said clearly. "Finish spitting Barbara." She turned back to the spitting table. Barb, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be, I'm not. You've got a ticket, you know what that means? It means you can eat me. I want you to. Promise me you will."

"I promise," Karen said, "I'll bloody well stuff myself." Her eyes teared.

"I'll hold you to that," Barb said. "I mean it. I'll be watching for you when I'm over the coals being cooked. Be there, that's my last request. Now bugger of and see to Julie, she's probably worried sick. Tell her she can eat me too, if she wants to. See you later. Do it, guys."

"Barb...."

"Kay, I'm a bit busy here, and I don't want to spend the next ten minutes watching you being sorry for me. Remember me having fun with you in the oil bath, okay? Bless you for that. Now, shoo! Go!"

Karen nodded, gave her a thumbs-up and turned to go. She picked up an abandoned shoulder bag with the initials KM on it, and after asking "Anybody need this?" and getting dismissive headshakes, she stuffed the ticket in it. The last thing she heard as she left was Marcie's voice saying "Sod this, just cut my fucking head off and have done with it."

Julie sipped her third whisky of the day slowly. "Did this ever happen to you?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Losing someone to the lottery? Someone I knew and quite liked, yes, not a close friend."

"And did you, um, I probably shouldn't ask...."

"Eat her? No. I would have, but I didn't have a ticket that day. Why, does the thought of eating Karen bother you?"

"No, the thought of her being dead does. I'm not that squeamish. It's not eating people that bothers me, I just wouldn't kill them to do it. Sorry, I'm not trying to be judgemental or start an argument. Not when I'm half drunk anyway. Karen's getting roasted whether I like it or not, so I'm okay with having some of her. In fact I have to. Do you think that makes me a hypocrite?

"No, I don't, but that's your decision to make, not mine."

During the conversation, the pair had drifted over to the second roasting pit, where Karen Marshall was still gamely riding the pole.

"Did you ever wonder what that feels like?" Julie asked. "Oh God, listen to me. Questions, questions. I suppose everybody has at one point or another."

"Probably," Joan said. "I know I have. There's only one way to find out. A few people have got so obsessed with the idea that they actually volunteered because they just had to know. Unfortunately they weren't able to tell anybody about it afterwards. You're wondering what it will be like for your friend, aren't you?"

"Yes. Funny thing - yet another one, sorry - God, I'm rambling on - Karen wasn't my friend when they roomed us together. Wouldn't have picked her either, we're like chalk and cheese. She was always teasing me, but it was just for fun, never mean-spirited. I don't think I realised until now just how much I really like her. How much I'll miss her."

"Don't it always seem so wrong that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone," a voice behind them sang.

Julie spun round so fast she spilled the rest of her whisky. Then she dropped the glass, seeing the smiling face of her friend. "Karen! Kay! What happened? Oh my God it's really you!" And then she flung herself forward, hugging and kissing her in a frenzy.

"Last minute entry," Karen explained when Julie slowed down a bit. "An exam cheat. Two seconds later and I'd have been shish-kebab. What a cliche. How're you holding up, Juju?"

"Sloshed but still standing. And all the better for seeing you." Julie produced her ticket. "Joan - Professor Dougal - gave me this."

"Awarded it," Joan corrected her.

"Awarded," Julie accepted. "So I had to stay. Okay, I would have anyway, just to see you off, but with this, I was going to..."

"You really were going to eat me," Karen said, grinning fondly. "Bless you."

"I thought that's what you wanted..."

"It was."

"God, look at you, you're all oily. And your hair!"

"My new look. Spit roast chic."

"Your shoes!" Julie exclaimed. She bent down to take them off.

Karen stopped her with a firm grip on her shoulder. "No, don't you dare," she said. "They're your shoes now. I gave them to you, remember?"

Julie straightened up. "You left them to me because you thought you were going to die," she pointed out.

"Makes no difference. I left them to you because you're my friend. Jules, you waited for me. You don't even like these affairs but you stayed around just for me. I knew you would. Do you have any idea what that means to me? What it meant to me when I was about to go? Keep the damned shoes, they're worth nothing compared to that. Anyway, they look good on you. Don't you like them?"

"I love them. I love you." Julie flushed. "In a purely platonic way, of course."

"Of course," Karen said, smiling. "I love you too, Juju. Hey, I just realised - you're still naked!"

"Nothing gets past you," Joan noted drily.

"No, she's right," Julie explained. "I don't usually do this."

"So what's the occasion?" Karen wondered.

"You, you big twit. It didn't seem right to get dressed while you were getting skewered. I planned to wait until I'd paid my respects, so to speak. Silly, I know, but it seemed fitting."

"Not silly, sweet, and fitting indeed. Dulce et decorum est, as they say in Ancient Rome. But I'm not dead, so you can get dressed now if you want."

Julie shrugged. "Why bother? It's warm enough. I used to cover up as soon as the lots were called so I never gave myself time to get used to it. When I thought you were gone, I just didn't care any more, it wasn't worth worrying about. I've been like this long enough now that I'm comfortable with it. You were right, it's no big deal, there's nothing wrong with my body and it's nothing everybody hasn't seen already. Besides," she glanced down, "My ratty old slipover would look like shit with these great shoes."

Karen laughed. "Wouldn't that make a great ad? Sexy model walks down the street naked, explaining in voiceover that she can't find any clothes good enough to go with her shoes. I like it. So what happens now? Going home or staying to eat?"

"I think I'll stay. Might as well find out what I'll taste like if the worst happens. You?"

Karen pulled a ticket out of her bag. "Snap," she said. "I've got one too. For the 'distress' caused by my near-death experience. I'm staying to do for Barb what you were going to do for me."

"Oh shit," Julie said, "I'm so sorry, I almost forgot. You two were close..."

"Closer than ever in the oil tub." Karen smiled. "Don't let it get you down, she took it well. How about you, Prof? Er, Professor Dougal. Sorry, still a bit floaty from the 'spit me easy' potion."

"Prof's fine, or Joan. I'm staying to eat, of course. Nothing I like more than some hot young girlflesh. One way or another."

"So I've heard. What's it taste like?"

Joan paused for thought. "Ever eaten venison?"

"No," Karen said.

"Yes," Julie said.

"What does it taste like?" Joan asked.

"Point taken," Julie conceded. Karen still looked bemused. "It tastes like venison. Not like pork, not like beef."

"And does every piece of beef taste the same?" Joan asked.

"No," Julie said. "But you always know it's beef and not pork. I get it."

"Exactly. People vary more than cattle. Every time you eat girlflesh it's different, but you always know what it is, and it's not chicken. There's only one way to find out what it's like and you'll be doing that soon enough. Karen, if you don't mind my asking, what did it feel like? Nearly being spitted? We were wondering about it earlier. Not many people go that far and come back."

"I could say try it and see," Karen returned. "Get me a drink and I'll tell you what it felt like to me. I'm parched."

Joan reached into her magic bag and produced a half bottle of Glenfiddich and a shot glass. She filled the glass and handed it to Karen. "Refill?" she asked Julie.

"Not for me, I'll stick to the gnat's piss beer for a bit."

Karen sipped the drink cautiously. "Whoo. This really is the good stuff, isn't it?"

"It is. Now, spill. The beans, not the drink..."

Karen shook her head. "It's hard to explain. After you go through the prep...well, this is just me, but I heard how Karen Mitchell took it.." She glanced at the roasting woman. "Wow, she's still going. Amazing. She's an example to us all. Sorry. It's like you get to a point where you accept it because you have to and in the end you almost want it. You just let it all go. All you've got left is being roasted so you go with that. You just hope somebody you love will eat you. Somebody who cares about you anyway. That's all I can tell you."

"Did you have a moment when you wanted to go through with it?"

"Just for a second. Mainly because Barb was with me."

"I don't suppose you'd like to volunteer for the next faculty dinner?"

"Not a fucking chance. You'll have to cross your fingers and hope my number comes up again."

"Curses, foiled again. You really would make a great roaster. The oil looks good on you. Don't mind me if I drool a bit."

"Feel free."

Somebody you love? Julie thought. She felt a bit dizzy for a second. Probably too much alcohol on an empty stomach. ".....to my place for a drink later?" she heard Joan say.

"Does that mean you want to shag me? If you can't eat 'em, lay 'em?"

"Yes, why not? It never hurts to ask."

"Okay, you're on. Haven't been with a woman in a while and you're pretty hot. Anybody ever tell you you'd make a damn good roaster yourself?"

"Thank you and yes, Julie did, not so long ago....."

"Way to go, Jules!"

"...and I think that's your other friend arriving, and your replacement. She seems to have lost her head."

Indeed it was. Barbara was being carried to her roasting pit, impaled but still moving. The body of a buxom young woman followed, headless and inert. Julie couldn't help feeling a little shocked, despite all that had already happened. She had known Barbara only slightly but, still, she had seen her alive and well not so long ago, chatting cheerfully about the possibility that exactly this would happen to her. Now it had. How did she feel about it now?

"Jules, do me a favour?" Karen asked. "Barb said you could eat her too if you liked. She obviously thought you might not eat someone you actually knew without their permission. If you want to do that, come with me and show her your card so she'll know?"

She must have known me better than I knew her, Julie thought. Well, why not? "All right," she said, and followed Karen to where Barbara was being settled onto the uprights, at the head end.

Karen lifted her ticket and waved to get Barb's attention. Julie saw her eyes move. It was bizarre, almost surreal. "Barb, I'm here," Karen said loudly. "I'm going to eat you, like I promised. Julie's here too, see? We're both fine."

Julie waved and held up her own ticket. "Hi, Barb," she said inanely. What do you say in a situation like this? "You look good enough to eat."

Barb couldn't speak, couldn't even nod with her head transfixed, but her hands, bound at the wrists, could still move. She stuck up both her thumbs and winked.

"Have a good one, mate," Karen said. "Go out on a high."

Barb's right hand formed the Vulcan salute: Live long and prosper. She closed her eyes, dismissing them. Her spit began to rotate.

"Come on," Karen said. "Leave her to it. Nothing more embarrassing than long goodbyes."

"Kay, I have to know," Julie said. "Probably not a good time to ask, but when you said you loved me, were you just kidding?"

"No," Karen said. "You were who I was thinking about when I thought I'd had my chips. Can't get more veritas than that even in vino. I just hadn't admitted it to myself before. I could shag Joan or James just for fun but, if I took you to bed, it would be making love. I know that's not your thing, I can't help that. If it creeps you out, I'll move, switch rooms with somebody else..."

"It doesn't creep me out. I'm heterosexual, not homophobic. You're still my friend and I do love you, just not the same way."

"Hey, Karen! Heard you dodged the bullet. Jammy sod."

"Hello, James," Karen said coolly. "Still struggling with Tact for Dummies?"

"Oh, yeah, well, congratulations. Tough luck for the rest of us though."

"Console yourself with the fact that my replacement has bigger tits than I do. Look on the bright side, or learn to live with the disappointment."

"Fancy a fuck after? Now you're not getting toasted?"

"Tempting as that sounds, no, I've had a better offer."

"Oh, right, okay. Later then?" James moved off.

"I don't know what you see in him," Julie said. "What's his subject, remedial woodwork?"

"Fucked if I know. We don't talk much. He's got a dick like a horse and he's better in bed than he talks."

"Maybe you should just chop his dick off and have it stuffed or embalmed or something. Use it as a dildo. Then you wouldn't have to talk to him at all."

Karen gave Julie a sideways grin. "You have an admirably dirty mind, I like that in a roommate."

"I'm not quite myself today," Julie said. "I wonder why. Could it be having my roommate return from the dead and say she loves me? The whisky in the afternoon? Not getting cooked myself? Kay, I'm walking round naked in public view and I don't even give a shit. This is not my average day. Seriously, now what do we do? It's going to be hours before Barb's cooked and....... God, I can't believe I just said that. I knew her, she's even still alive, and I'm talking like we just put a lamb roast in the oven."

"It might feel weird talking about a person that way, but how else would you put it? Would you prefer a euphemism?"

"Point. Anyway, what DO we do until she's ready?"

"You could go back to our rooms and take a nap. You'll still be admitted if you keep your ticket. You could stick around for the music and dancing, they're setting up the disco now. Or you could just go. Barb will never know."

"That doesn't work for me. I showed up for her, I have to follow through. I noticed you didn't say WE could just go."

"No, I'm staying. I promised I would. Anyway, it won't take quite as long as you might think. Once you're gone, they lower the spit and switch it from 'ventilate' to 'microwave'. Helps cook the roast from the inside. Sort of like a combination oven."

"There's a microwave cooker in the spit they put inside you? Good grief."

"Yeah, sound gruesome, doesn't it? They could probably cook you with just that. But once you've been skewered right through, you're a goner anyway, so why not?"

"Why not, indeed. You know, I think I will have a quick lie down. I'm not like you, I can't drink a sailor under the table."

"It was three sailors. Bit disappointing, really, they weren't much use after that. You go, I'll see you later."

Julie gave her a quick, affectionate kiss - when had that started to seem natural? - and left.

Some time later she woke up wondering where she was. On her bed, she realised. The last thing she remembered was lying down, pulling a sheet over herself and thinking she'd just close her eyes for a while, she couldn't possibly sleep. "Shit!" she exclaimed. "What the hell is the time?" The cookout, Barb, Karen, had all that happened only today? She looked at the clock. Late afternoon. When had she left, exactly? Was she too late? She scrambled out of bed and saw the shoes that used to be Karen's lying where she taken them off. So, it really had happened. She put the shoes back on, grabbed her bag, and hurried out.

Back at the picnic ground, some people were already eating. Students, mostly but not all male, and most of the faculty, mingling indisriminately. Some were eating at tabes, some standing around talking, with paper plates in their hands. Music, not too loud, was playing. The party was on and she was fashionably late. Too late? She looked at the spits. Two were empty. Of course, she realised. Susan and the other one would have finished a lot sooner. Dead already, they would have been set lower over the coals and had the microwave on from the start! They would be served first, Karen Mitchell and Barbara later. Not too late after all.

There were Karen and the Prof - Joan - chatting animatedly. They saw her.

"Julie! I almost thought you weren't coming. I should have known better," Karen said cheerfully. "Wow, you really do love those shoes, don't you?"

"Hello, Julie. I must say I do like your style," Joan added.

"What?"

"You're still naked, in case you hadn't noticed," Karen said. "Could you really find nothing in your wardrobe worthy of them? That might become a problem in later life. Or is it a mark of respect for Barb?"

"Oh, right. No, I'd only just woken up and I was in a hurry, I didn't even think about it."

"I'm not complaining, it suits you. You feeling okay?" Karen gave Julie a quick hug and kissed her.

"Never better," Julie said. "Just hungry." It was true, she felt fine, light on her feet. The delicious, all-pervading smell of roasted meat was making her mouth water and her stomach feel hollow.

"Hungry enough to eat me raw?" Karen teased.

"Don't tempt me," Julie said, smiling. "You do look rather edible." Karen's teasing, she now knew, was nothing more than affectionate flirting.

"Try some of Susan instead," Joan suggested. "She's rather good." In the short time they'd been talking, she'd snagged a plate from a nearby table.

Julie took the plate, which held a slice of meat that looked like high quality roast beef, slightly rare. It was human meat, of course, girlflesh. Her first.

"There's bread if you want it and mustard. Salad. Knives and forks are over...never mind."

Julie lifted the meat in her fingers and bit into it. She chewed and swallowed. It wasn't pork and it wasn't beef and it wasn't venison. It was delicious. She wanted more. "Good," she said and had more. And more and more. And then it was all gone. "God, that hit the spot," she said, licking her fingers.

"Wow," Karen said. "Julie the cavegirl. I like it."

"I was bloody starving," Julie said. "I hadn't eaten all day, just a piece of toast I choked down at breakfast."

"I don't think that was quite the reaction we'd expected," Joan noted mildly.

"Why not? I came here to eat somebody, for whatever reason, which makes me a cannibal just like you. Only difference is, I wouldn't have wanted Susan to die for it, but she did. No point pretending I'm revolted by the thought of eating her, that was never what bothered me. What part was that, by the way?"

"Leg," Joan said. "That's where a lot of a woman's red meat comes from."

"Good," Julie said.

"Want more?"

Julie took a breath. It was tempting. "No," she said. "I want to keep an edge so I'll enjoy eating Barb. Maybe a drink. What do you wash roast leg of girl down with, Joan?"

"That has been the subject of many a discussion, as you might imagine," Joan said. "Some adhere to the 'Cabernet Sauvignon for all' theory. Not a bad choice, but myself, I think each girl has a particular flavour. I'd recommend a pint of a well-malted beer for Susan, probably Samuel Smith's."

"And, of course, you can get me one of those?"

"Of course. What's the point of serving gourmet food and accompanying it with Bud Lite or Albanian plonk?"

"How's Barb getting on?" Julie asked Karen as Joan went to fetch the drink. "Sorry, I mean..."

"It's okay. She's gone. They gutted her some time ago and she should be done before very long. So you want to enjoy eating her, huh?" Karen smiled wryly.

"I thought that's what she'd have preferred. I don't see her saying 'Julie can eat me but I hope I taste like shit and she chokes on me', do you?"

"Oh no, you're absolutely right. Want to come and see her?"

"Sure, as soon as Joan - oh, thanks, that was quick." Julie took a sip. "Good stuff."

"You're welcome. See who?"

"Barb, before they chop her up," Karen said.

It was a short walk to the spit, past a couple of tables bearing the remains of Susan and Marcie, their partial dismembered skeletons surrounded by platters loaded with various cuts of their meat. Each table had a nameplate on it and a silver plate bearing the head of the meat's previous owner for those who wanted to know exactly who they were eating. Julie paused for a second. "So that's Susan," she said. "I feel I ought to say something, but all I've got is 'you tasted great'."

"As good as anything, in the circumstances," Joan said.

"And what about the other one," Julie peered at the nameplate, "Marcie? Thanks for cheating and getting my friend off the hook?"

"It'll have to do."

At last they came to where Barbara rotated on her spit, otherwise unmoving. She had surrendered to the fire at last. Julie contemplated her with mixed feelings. "I suppose you'll say she looks magnificent," she said to Joan.

"Well, be honest, doesn't she? As fine an example of a human roast as I've ever seen."

Julie had to admit to herself that Barb looked every bit as good as Susan had or better. Her body, now cooked and glazed to a deep reddish brown, had lost none of its form. As she turned, her slit belly, the edges slightly separated, showed that her body cavity was empty, emphasising that she was now meat, meat that had once been a person. "Macabre," she said, "But beautiful, too." There was no point boring everybody to tears with her moral objections to the whole process, they all knew where she stood.

"Pity she can't see herself like this," Karen said. "She'd be happy to know she turned out this well."

"Maybe she had enough self confidence to be sure that she would anyway," Julie suggested.

"That's a good thought, thanks. And quite probably true. I used to fantasise about this sometimes and I'm sure she did too. Seeing her up there, I can't help thinking that if we'd been picked in the other order, I'd be on that pole nicely cooked and she'd be standing here watching me."

"Does it give you the shivers?"

"A bit. Mostly it turns me on. It's not like I wish it had been me, exactly, but the thought that it might have been...." Karen shuddered, "It excites me. Doesn't it you?"

"It did me, in my day," Joan said. "Every time I escaped the lottery, I had to finish myself off in my rooms. On feast days, well, you don't want to know."

"Mostly it scares me," Julie said, "But maybe a little bit. Is that why you came here? To this college, I mean?"

"That and the excellent Classics department," Karen said with a straight face. To Joan, "Sure we want to know. Give."

"General debauchery. Drunken, stoned group orgies where we played at eating each other. Some people got carried away and left actual teethmarks. One girl got her nipple bitten off."

"Ouch," Karen said. "I bet she wasn't too pleased."

"She begged the girl who'd bitten her to swallow the nipple and eat some more of her. We got her calmed down eventually and she even got the nipple reattached, but it was too late."

"Too late?" Julie asked. "What do you mean?"

"She volunteered for the next faculty dinner and got roasted and eaten. As I said, some people get obsessed with the idea and feel they have to go through with it."

"Did you ever think of doing it?"

"Once or twice. I think most people do. I never came that close to carrying it through, but on my second feast day I had a moment when I thought I heard my number called. I remember vividly how I felt. I was shocked and scared but also excited. I started to walk towards the processing area before they read out the name and then I checked my number tag."

"I know exactly what you mean," Karen said.

"I got a ticket on my first feast day, you see. I knew what it was like. I was a bit like you, Julie, I didn't entirely approve, but I was too curious to turn it down. If it had really been me that second time, I'd have been hoping I'd end up looking like that." She nodded in Barb's direction.

The next spit, holding Karen Mitchell, had stopped rotating. The cooks were about to take her down and cut her up.

"And I hoped I'd take the spit as well as she did," Karen said. "She was was getting skewered while Barb and I were oiling each other. Which reminds me, this is her bag. I suppose I'll have to find one of her friends after and give it back. Her change of clothing is in it. Denim shorts and a halter top, quite good quality. Want to borrow them, Julie? I don't suppose she'd mind and she's about your size. You may not have noticed but the three of us are the only people here still naked."

It was true, Julie realised. The women students still present were lightly dressed but they were dressed.

"Julie!" a male voice exclaimed. "What are you doing here? And you're, um....ah.."

"Was 'naked' the word you were looking for? Yes, well spotted. Hello Harry. Sorry, Richard."

"Oh, don't worry about it, I'm used to it." Richard 'Harry' Radcliffe had acquired the nick from sharing the surname of the actor in the classic Harry Potter films and a superficial resemblance to him. He even had the glasses. "But, you, what, you didn't get picked did you? Shit, that's rough. I just got here and I thought..." He looked at the tables and the spits and did the addition. "But there are four of them already...."

"I'm not on the menu, Harry. I got a ticket and I suppose you did too. Here to eat some hot girlflesh?" Julie knew Harry, a mathematician, through the chess club. She rather liked him and suspected that he felt the same way about her, but he was painfully shy with girls.

"Well, ah, I didn't want to turn it down and...." Richard flushed guiltily. "Well, yes, okay. I'm just glad it's not you. Not that you wouldn't be, er...."

Julie took pity on him. "Relax, Harry. This is my friend Karen and you probably know who Prof Dougal is..."

"Professor," Richard said with a polite nod.

"He's seen me like this before," Joan explained. "Last feast day."

"Pleased to meet you, Karen." He made no comment on her state of undress, which seemed to amuse Karen rather than offend her.

Julie wondered whether she should have put the clothes on. She could see Karen mouthing 'he's got the hots for you'.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" Joan asked urbanely.

Karen smirked, out of Richard's field of view.

"Er, yes, all right, if you don't mind...?"

"Just one question," Julie said. "What would you have done if I had been on the menu?"

"Oh, God, I don't know," Richard said, looking embarrassed. "Probably asked if you minded if I, you know.......well, maybe if I could have got up the nerve to ask...."

"Okay, make that two questions. What if that had been me on the spit there, already cooked? Would you have eaten me anyway?"

Now Richard looked really trapped. "Oh hell," he said at last. "Yes, I probably would have. I'm still glad it's not you, really, but, yes, I would." He glanced down at Julie's feet. "Should I go, then? Nice shoes, by the way..."

"Oh, you don't have to go," Julie said. "Not if you like my shoes."

Richard gave her a wary look.

"Just kidding," Julie said, "If you'd lied I'd have told you to piss off."

"Oh, good. Luckily, I'm not very good at lying," Richard said, relieved. "Look, tell you what. If you'd rather I didn't, well, you know, eat you, just say so now. That way if your number comes up for the Winter Feast and I get a ticket, I'll know not to."

"Good of you. And you'd really stick to that? Sorry, yes, I suppose you would. No, it's okay. If I'm going to get roasted anyway....." Julie shrugged. "Help yourself." If the worst happened, she realised, she didn't have any objection to being eaten by Richard, or Karen or Joan for that matter. Why should she? A lot of people she didn't even know would do it anyway, without asking, most of them without even caring whether she minded or not.

"Thanks, it's nice to know....well, I hope I don't actually need to know, if you see what I mean, but if I do..."

An image came into her mind of Richard with a slice of her upper thigh on his plate. It gave her a trickle of unexpected pleasure in her lower belly. Her nipples stiffened. Would he notice? "No problem," she said with a nonchalance she didn't feel.

Karen was chatting to Joan and she turned to join the conversation.

"Doesn't that ever happen?" Karen was saying. "Students getting failed deliberately because somebody wants to eat them?"

"Not often and not recently. It's career suicide. I do remember a case where a professor failed a girl he was obsessed with. She got roasted. There was nothing wrong with her work and lots of people knew it. Protests were made, the exam review board got called in, and he got fired."

"Just fired?" Julie put in. "Doesn't seem enough considering the girl died."

"Hard to make a murder charge stick in the circumstances, but when I say fired I mean fired hard. Shamed, blacklisted, lucky to get a job as a toilet cleaner in Khazakstan. The idea that we routinely fail students we take a fancy to is a myth. People do notice things like that."

"So no way you'd fail Jules just because you wanted to eat her?"

"No, and, believe it or not, that's because I have professional ethics, not just because I probably wouldn't get away with it."

Julie thought that Karen was pressing the point because she wanted to protect her. "Back off, Kay," she said. "I believe her."

"Fair enough," Karen said, "Just checking." She glanced around. "Looks like they're about to take Barb down."

"Almost a pity," Joan said. "She looks so good on full display like that. Don't you think so, Richard?"

"She looks fantastic," Richard agreed. "Did you know her?"

"She was a friend of Karen's," Julie said. The spit had stopped and two of the cooks were talking. One looked at his watch and another got out a pointed metal probe. Julie almost winced as he stuck it into Barbara's right buttock. She caught herself involuntarily rubbing her own bare backside in sympathy.

"Oh," Richard said. "Sorry to hear that, Karen."

Karen shrugged. "Thanks. I'm trying to think of it more as a completion than a catastrophe. She'd rather have gone out this way than in an air crash or something. That would have just been a waste."

"It's amazing how well you girls take it," Richard said ingenuously.

"Oh? How would you feel about it if they roasted the male students as well?" Julie asked, slightly nettled.

"Don't think I'd fancy it, honestly," Richard said. "Besides, it wouldn't work financially. They'd have to offer us lower fees too and they still wouldn't get many applications."

"So it's all right to roast the girl students but not the boys?" Julie said argumentatively.

"Not what I'm saying," Richard said earnestly. "I know the whole 'sauce for the goose' idea sounds fairer, and in the abstract it might well be, but it just doesn't work like that. I'm not saying all you girls really want to get roasted or anything like that, but it does seem that you don't mind quite as terribly much as we blokes would." He made a demonstrative gesture. "Sorry if that sounds sexist, but, well, here you all are, after all."

"He's got a point, you know," Karen said. "Just because it's sexist doesn't mean it isn't true."

Joan nodded professorial approval. "A label is not an argument."

"I still think they should roast a guy at least once a year, just for a change," Julie said stubbornly. To Richard: "What would you do if they changed the rules, leave?"

"I don't know. Ask for a fee reduction, maybe. I'm halfway through my degree, so if the odds weren't too bad I just might stick it out. If I did get picked, well....." he flushed.

"What?"

"I was going to say I'd hope you got a ticket," Richard muttered sheepishly.

"Oh, ah....." Julie said brilliantly, suspecting she was turning the same interesting shade that Richard was. "That's, um, nice of you..."

"Well, you're a girl and I know you," Richard blundered on, "And I don't really fancy being, you know, eaten by the other guys, not that they probably would. I know you girls don't seem to mind eating each other, but...."

Karen spluttered.

"Maybe I'd better just shut up while I'm ahead. Or not too far behind, anyway."

"It was a nice thought and I'm flattered," Julie said straight faced and regaining some of her composure. "Lets leave it at that for now." She hadn't given much thought to how a man would feel about being in that position. So, he'd rather not in the first place but if it happened he'd prefer to be eaten by people he knew and presumably liked. Not so different from herself, in fact. It shouldn't really have been a surprise.

Barbara's body had been removed from the spit while they were talking and laid out on a table, face up, ready to be carved.

Karen stepped forward and put her hand on Barbara's shoulder. It was hot. The cooks started to protest but Joan said "Give her a minute," and they stood back.

"What you told me," she said. "I remember. The bath, but not just that, everything. I always will."

Of course Barbara couldn't hear, Julie thought. The dear departed can't see you dropping flowers on a coffin either. It made no more sense and no less. It was just something she had to do. As funeral orations went, it was better than most.

Karen stepped back and nodded to the cooks.

The cooks started in a businesslike way by chopping Barbara's head off.

"Let's get a drink," Karen said briskly. "She'll be ready to serve in a bit."

Julie's mind was awash with a jumble of impressions. Karen had great legs. Richard wouldn't mind if she ate him. She was going to eat Barb sometime soon instead. "That was nice," she said, knowing how inadequate that was.

"I'll miss her tomorrow," Karen said, eyes a bit too bright. "Party time now."

If I were gay, Julie thought, I'd probably want to marry her.

"Your friend," Richard said, shaking his head. "She's got class. I mean, not just great tits, which she does have, not that you don't....."

If I were gay, Julie thought, things would be much simpler. Or maybe not. But I'm not, so...

"Richard," she said. "Would you like to fuck me?"

"No, of course not," Richard said with heavy irony. "Come on, I'm a bloke, right? I'd fuck anything in a skirt, isn't that what you think? Not that you've got one on, but, well..... , okay, maybe I would. With you, though...it's not just that. Not that it isn't the best offer I've ever had, if you're serious. If you just want to tease the maths geek, leave me out of it."

So much for girl power, Julie thought, he's nailed me. Sort of. Or not. Damnit, it wasn't supposed to come out like that "Drat," she said lightly, "I was hoping to get you to strip off."

"Oh, right. Here you go." Richard started to unbutton his shirt. "You only had to ask."

"I was kidding," Julie said.

"I wasn't," Richard said doggedly. He took off his shirt and unfastened his jeans.

"You really don't have to do this," Julie said.

"Don't discourage him," Karen objected.

Richard managed to get his shoes off and pull down his pants with some difficulty as he had a semi-erection. Finally he stepped out of his trousers and pulled off his underpants. A ragged cheer went up from a few of the female students who had noticed the action and were watching with interest.

"Not bad at all," Karen approved. Richard was not an overmuscled jock but he wasn't badly built either. Slim without being scrawny and with decent muscle tone. "Work out much?"

"Not really," Richard said, "Bit of swimming, bit of squash, Yoga now and again. I like to walk. Can't spend all day doing maths, my brain would melt down."

"I can't believe you just did that," Julie said. She couldn't help noticing that Richard was quite adequately equipped and tried not to stare.

"Neither can I," Richard said. "Bit like taking a plunge into cold water, it's better than standing there shivering. Funny thing is, it's not quite as embarrassing as I thought it would be. Not to say it isn't entirely. You girls look so much better naked than we blokes do. No awkward bits dangling or sticking out."

"You can get dressed again if you're uncomfortable. You called me on the dare, point made, I concede."

"I might stick it out for a bit," Richard said and then gave a rueful grin as Karen sniggered. "Yes, all right. Maybe I'll put my pants back on if we sit down to eat."

Joan returned with drinks on a tray, like a good hostess. "I see you decided to join us in the altogether," she noted mildly.

"Seemed like the thing to do at the time," Richard said, accepting a beer, "Thanks."

"When I said I was kidding before," Julie said, "You do realise I meant about making you strip off and not the other thing?"

"You're not serious?"

"Why not? Let me guess. You were a gawky, geeky teenager who thought the chicks would never fancy him, so you avoided them or brushed them off and you're still doing it even now you've outgrown your acne and got kind of dishy. Sorry I was so crude about it but I was sort of embarrassed myself and it came out like a joke and got all mixed up...."

"Dishy? Me?" Richard looked incredulous.

Julie put on a mischievous, sultry look and licked her lips. "I'd eat you," she said.

Richard's partial erection took an upward swing.

"I'm booked tonight but if you don't fancy her, I'm free tomorrow," Karen said.

"Can't blame you," Joan said. "He does bring out a touch of my dormant heterosexual side."

"I saw him first," Julie said.

Richard stared at the women with a baffled expression on his face. "This is a wind up, isn't it?"

"I don't believe it is, actually," Joan said. "Behind those national health specs, you're not at all bad looking and you're the only man here with the balls to strip off."

"And we can see them," Karen put in with a smirk.

Richard's face struggled to express embarrassment, disbelief and pleasure at the same time. "That does it," he said with only half serious indignation. "I'm putting my pants back on."

"I don't see how you're going to get it back in there," Karen teased.

"Long practice," Richard said, pulling on his underwear, dark blue stretch hipsters with no fly that managed to cover the essentials without concealing a definite bulge.

"They're starting to serve Barbara," Joan noted. "Anybody hungry?"

"Starving," Julie said truthfully.

Richard looked at Karen. "If it's okay with you....?"

"It's fine," Karen reassured him. "Barb wouldn't mind, trust me, I know. She'd hate to think she went through all that and nobody wanted her. Hell, I'll take it as a personal insult to my friend if you don't."

Any minute now I'll wake up, Richard thought. I can't even talk to a girl I fancy about anything that isn't about academics or chess or something impersonal without getting flustered. And here I am in my underpants talking to the frighteningly beautiful Karen who is stark naked and, guess what? She's just a nice person and she seems to like me. And Julie wants to...impossible...

"You okay?" Karen inquired.

"Cognitive dissonance," Richard muttered. "Sorry." He took a steady, nasal breath and drew on his Hatha Yoga practice. "The last thing I want to do is insult your friend."

Julie was contemplating Barbara's partially dismembered body. Her breasts had been cut off and taken away, presumably for members of the faculty. Her legs had been severed just below the crotch, which had been scooped out. The prime cut, she remembered, went to the head of her department, as her own would to Joan if she ever got picked. Not to worry, there was plenty of good stuff left. The cooks were sectioning the leg meat into steaks. Barbara's severed hands and feet were lying on the bare wood of the table. You can turn a woman into a pig roast, she thought, but the head, hands and feet will always look human.

"Made a choice yet?" Joan inquired.

"Thigh steak," Julie said. "With a baked potato and a small salad."

"A good, solid choice," Joan said. "I think I'll go for rump this time. Maybe with a few sauteed mushrooms." She helped herself from a nearby table loaded with various side dishes.

Richard opted for several slices of calf meat and a section of upper arm, on the bone.

"Nothing else with that?" Joan inquired in an amused tone.

"No. I don't get to eat this very often, I'll worry about greens and roughage another day."

"Quite right too," Karen agreed, piling a plate high with cuts from various parts of Barbara's body. "I told her I'd stuff myself," she explained. "And I'm going to."

The foursome decided to eat sitting down this time, at a small, round metal table nearby. There was just enough room for their plates and glasses. All of them had opted for proper plates this time; poor Susan had just been the appetiser as far as they were concerned, Barbara was their main course. Once the food had been sorted out, and everybody had what they wanted, they dug in with gusto.

Julie cut into her thigh steak and took a bite. Just as Joan had said, it tasted somewhat like Susan's but not quite the same. Girlmeat did have a distinctive flavour and it wasn't something you could actually describe. If you'd had it once, you'd know when you tasted it again. The other thing was, it was really good. Better than venison, which she loved. When she'd had a slice of Susan she'd been so hungry that anything not totally disgusting would have tasted pretty good. Now she wasn't starving and it still tasted great. She wasn't sure how much of that was knowing what it was, but that didn't spoil her appreciation of it. In fact, she was halfway through the steak before she realised she'd hardly touched her potato or the salad. She hastily took a token forkful of the greens because it wouldn't take up much room. Maybe Richard had the right idea.

Richard, meanwhile was alternating between the calf steaks and taking bites of Barb's arm off the bone. It was hard to decide which was better; it was all good. If there was anything better than eating girlflesh, he reflected, it was eating it in the company of three good-looking, naked women. Definitely an improvement on last time, when he'd eaten with the boys. To top it all, he was getting quite comfortable with doing that half naked. If this was a dream, he was in no hurry to wake up.

Joan ate her rump steak and mushrooms with unhurried pleasure and a connoiseurs appreciation. As a faculty member, she ate girlflesh every month, but she never tired of it, and Barbara's was as tasty as any she'd had for a good while. Dining with three of the students, two of whom might end up on her dinner plate some time in the future, added to the piquancy of the experience. She rather preferred feast days to faculty dinners. If it wasn't for the nature of the food on offer, she might not bother to attend as she sometimes found the company of her peers a little stale and boring. The prospect of having Karen, one of the potential meals, in her bed that night was almost too good to be true.

Karen was working her way through an assortment of her late friend's meats with her eyes half closed. This is really good stuff, Barb, she thought occasionally, addressing the memory of Barb about to be spitted, telling her to go. You'd have been proud.

When all of them had finished, Joan offered to fetch more drinks.

"No, I'll do it," Richard said. "God, that was good."

"Anyone want any more?" Joan offered.

"Is there any more?" Julie wondered. "I'd have thought..."

"There should be quite a bit," Joan said. "Four young women is more than enough meat for the faculty and two or three dozen students. A lot of them probably filled up on the first three."

"And then there's all the side dishes and the fact that half of them are probably drunk by now," Julie said, thinking. "Okay, I'll have some more. Wouldn't want Barb to go to waste."

"She won't, actually," Joan said. "The faculty have the leftovers for lunch snacks, but why leave them any more than we have to?"

"You're one of the faculty," Karen pointed out.

Joan shrugged. "I do this every month and, frankly, I prefer the present company."

"I'll see if I can get a bit more in," Karen said.

It was decided that Joan should go foraging for the best of the rest of Barbara while Richard got the drinks in.

"Spill," Karen said, while the others were away. "Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Enjoy her. You said...."

"Oh. Yes, I did. A lot. I'm not just saying that because Barb was your friend. That was the best meal I've had in ages, maybe ever."

Karen nodded, satisfied. She looked distant for a moment and then refocussed, her teasing grin coming back. "And are you going to fuck him?"

"First chance I get, if he's really up for it."

"Oh, come on, he's yours. Hook, line and sinker. You two make a great pair. Neither of you know how sexy you are. I'd love to be a fly on the wall when you drag him to the bedroom."

Joan reappeared with a platter of assorted parts of Barbara and managed to get it on the table just before Richard turned up with the drinks. With the first rush of appetite slated, the four ate in more leisurely fashion and conversation restarted. The afternoon was turning late and golden and the mood was mellow.

"What's this?" Julie asked, picking up a strip of succulent meat in her fingers. It was still warm, presumably kept that way on a heated tray or a chafing dish or something.

"Belly meat," Joan said. "These leaner strips here are back, these slices are more leg, of course, some shoulder here...."

Julie ate the rich meat a bite at a time. Different, but still delicious. Barbara was a one-woman banquet. As, no doubt, I would be, she thought. No wonder they do this, even though it's wrong.

"Sorry if this is an awkward question," Richard said at last, addressing both Julie and Karen, "But how does it feel eating another woman, let alone one you knew, when you might be next on the menu? Come Winter Feast, God forbid, either of you might be on one of these plates. Doesn't it bother you knowing this..." he held up a piece of meat...."Could be you?"

"Yes and no," Karen said, "I don't mind the idea of being eaten at all. In fact, it's a hell of a turn on. And I'd love to go through with the spitting and roasting part just to see what it's like. The only trouble is, after that, that's your lot, you're done. If I could come back to life afterwards, like one of Thor's goats, I'd do it like a shot."

"Thor's goats?" Richard wondered.

"Thor's chariot was pulled by goats. If he ran short of food on a journey, he'd cook and eat them. As long as he kept the hides and bones, he could magically bring them back to life."

"That's a neat trick," Richard said. "But you can't do that, so..."

Karen shrugged. "If I'm picked, I'm picked and I'll roast. Maybe as soon as the next faculty dinner. Did you think of Winter Feast just because you might be there?"

Richard flushed slightly and, to make it worse, he glanced down reflexively at Karen's firm, ripe breasts.

"Yes, they would look good on a serving platter," Karen said, smiling impishly.

"Oh damn, I didn't mean..."

"Richard, I'm sitting here stark naked at a cannibal feast in a coating of cooking oil. It would be pretty strange if the thought hadn't even crossed your mind. Insulting, even."

"Fair enough, thanks," Richard said with a sigh of relief. "Cooking oil? I thought it was sunblock. Is that a new fashion statement thing or were you just being prepared?"

"I was being prepared, literally. Oiled, sheared," she indicated her hair, "And with a spit up my pussy. They were just about to skewer me when somebody else turned up, a cheat. I was called fourth in the lottery so they let me go."

"Good grief," Richard said. "And here's me pontificating like a Master of the Bleeding Obvious about how it might have been you. Weren't you scared?"

"Yes," Karen said, "And excited. Call me perverse, but I get a kick out of thinking it might be me next even while I hope it isn't. So if it is, I can't really complain, can I? Can't have the thrill without the risk."

And you can't have roast girl without roasting a girl, Julie thought, remembering what Joan had said.

"How about you, Julie?" Richard inquired.

"I don't know," Julie said honestly. "I still think it's wrong and it scares me and I was horrified when Kay got picked. Yet here I am eating Barb and enjoying it. How about you, Richard?"

Richard nodded, accepting that turnabout was fair play. "I got a ticket to the last two feasts, in my first year. I'm good at maths. What can I say? I did have qualms about it, but I went anyway. I did feel guilty about the poor girls who got cooked, but I still went. Then I thought, what the hell, it was going to happen anyway. Me feeling guilty about it isn't doing them or me or anybody any good. So I ate them and I enjoyed it."

"Remember their names?"

"Yes," Richard said. "Suzie Plaskett, Carol James, Denise Watts, Michaela Stevens, Keiko Mori, Olga Sosnovska, Rhiannon Jones and Carmen Falco."

Karen was impressed. "You remember all of them?"

"Just the names. I checked the nameplates on the tables before I left. I didn't actually know any of them. Well, one, sort of. I met Keiko once, that's all. A mathematical physics seminar. She was in the Physics Department and we had a chat about event horizons."

"And the next time you saw her she was cooked meat?"

"Yes," Richard said. "Waste of a good brain, I thought, but her legs tasted good."

"Was that why you came here?" Karen asked.

"No, it wasn't. I got a free scholarship. I won a prize, I don't pay fees. The Mathematics department wanted me. When I said I was good, I mean really good. Not that the feasts were exactly a disincentive." He shrugged.

"Stop picking on the boy," Joan said. "Julie, answer me this, you slipped out lightly the last time and he let you off. What will you do if you get a ticket to the next Winter Feast?"

That's the rub, Julie thought. "Thanks for putting me on the spot," she said ruefully.

"That's my job," Joan said, "As your teacher."

"I can choose," Julie said carefully, "Whether to accept it or not. I asked you earlier whether I was a hypocrite for staying to eat my friend Karen. You said that was really my decision. Now I'm still here because Barb was Karen's friend, unless I'm just rationalising. So if I get a ticket to the Winter Feast and nobody I know or care about is involved, I'll have no excuses. I have three choices, as I see it. Refuse on principle, drop my moral objections to the whole institution, or really be a hypocrite. I don't like the idea of being a hypocrite, so that leaves two. Refuse to attend, or accept. And, if I accept, I can't complain if I get chosen and somebody eats me."

"A very good summation of the problem," Joan said. "Do you have an answer?"

"No," Julie said, "But I've got six months to work one out."

"Hang on a minute," Richard said. "If you really object to the whole thing, you can just not do it, can't you?"

"That's the problem," Julie said. She looked at Karen. "I wasn't kidding when I said I enjoyed eating Barbara. It was bloody fantastic. I'm high on it. If I'm offered that again, will I be able to refuse on principle? If I can't...."

"Then you're an occasional cannibal like the rest of us," Karen said. "So what? I know if I get a ticket, I'll be going. I mean, I've taken the risk, why not reap the benefits?"

"That's a point," Richard said. "Whoever gets roasted would have anyway, whether you were there or not. Just because you don't agree with it doesn't mean you can't accept what you can't change. Complaining won't do you any good if you get picked, will it?"

"No, that's true," Julie said. "But I'd still feel a bit funny defending my high moral position while I'm gobbling down chunks of Jill or Jenny or whoever it is."

"But that's about appearances, not logic," Joan pointed out. "You could take the view that you're opposed to the practice but as long as you have to take the risk, as Karen said, you're entitled to partake. After all, it might as easily have been Jill or Jenny gobbling down chunks of you."

Was that part of the thrill of eating Barbara? Julie wondered. Knowing that it might have been me? Am I just a little bit hooked on the notion that I'm food too?

"Which leaves me stuck with saying I attend the feasts just because I enjoy it," Richard put in. "I don't have the excuse that it could have been me. I'd hate it to be anyone I knew and cared about, but, what the hell, if it's going to happen anyway..." he shrugged. "I suppose I'm deficient in moral crusader genes. Never got bitten by a radioactive saint, what can I say? Girls taste good and I get a kick out of eating them. If they're willing to gamble and they lose...sorry, not much of an answer."

"Good enough for me," Karen said. "If they did roast the guys and you got picked, I'd eat you."

Richard didn't seem entirely displeased by the notion. "Any particular part?"

"Your prick and balls," Karen said bluntly. "The package. The bits we chicks don't have. The stuff you've got stuffed in your underwear."

"Some of which will shortly be stuffed in me," Julie said playfully.

"Well, thanks a lot, ladies. Now I won't be able to stand up for a bit," Richard retorted.

"Why, will your stretch pants explode? No shame in an honest stiffie," Karen teased. "You might get some female admirers. Some more, I mean," she added. "Most of those other wimps still have their clothes on."

"I'll settle for one," Richard said, looking at Julie. Not that Karen wasn't drop dead gorgeous, but still....

Julie stood up. She was enjoying the attention but she didn't quite know what to do with it. Eating Barbara had left her feeling almost uncomfortably full but also deliciously hot. If it had that effect on her, what would it do to the men? Why wouldn't they want to fuck her or eat her? Her thoughts were taking a disturbing turn. "Enough chatter," she said, "Lets get another drink and mingle."

Joan agreed. "Moving around a bit helps the meal settle."

Richard stood up too, a little carefully. His erection was clearly visible, pulled back against his belly by his underwear. Who could blame him? Julie thought.

Somebody had started playing some retro-avant-garde German rock on the music system. Several people were cheerfully making fools of themselves trying to dance to it.

A distinguished looking man in his mid-forties approached as the group collected their drinks.

"Hello, Karen," the man said urbanely. "I thought for a while we'd be seeing you on a spit this time. Quite a stroke of luck you had, wasn't it?" He didn't exactly leer, he was too sophisticated for that. He merely adopted an expression that conveyed the same thing with a veneer of class.

"It certainly was, Professor," Karen agreed. "And I got a free ticket. Must be my lucky day. Oh, apart from one of my friends getting roasted, that is."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but these things happen. You do realise, I hope, that if you applied yourself a little more, you might actually get a ticket on merit next time? You have a good mind," he gave her a frankly appreciative look, "Perhaps almost as good as your body, but your work is rarely more than adequate. I have the impression that you could do a lot better if you tried."

"Rest assured, Professor, I'll be giving that some serious consideration next term."

"I'm glad to hear it. Got the taste for it, have you?"

"You could say that. So, you may be seeing me here at Winter Feast if I don't end up as the main course at a faculty dinner first."

"One may hope," the Professor said with probably deliberate ambiguity.

"Sorry to have disappointed you," Karen replied lightly, attempting to match him point for point.

"Oh, the fare on offer was more than adequate," the Professor riposted. "But I'm sure you could have been better..." He gave Karen another appreciative look and departed.

"Could he possibly have made it more obvious?" Julie grumbled. "Creep."

"Does that apply to me as well?" Joan asked, arching an eyebrow. "Or Richard?"

"No, of course not..." Julie responded hastily, flushing. The next question was obvious.

"Why not?" Joan asked.

"I don't know," Julie said, "It just feels different. I mean, you said you'd be happy to eat me if my number came up, fair enough, but with him it's like that's all he sees..."

"Bit hard to avoid the idea with me parading around naked like an advert for girlmeat on the hoof," Karen pointed out. "And he did say I might get a ticket next time. Old Grenville isn't so bad. Sure he'd be happy to see me laid out on the faculty dining table..."

"Cooked or not, I suspect," Joan put in.

Karen grinned. "Point. But that goes for most of the faculty...."

"And, if you switch that to the feast tables, most of the students," Joan added.

"So it really doesn't bother me," Karen concluded. "If it did I'd have put on Karen M's top and shorts."

"I'm not sure that would have made very much difference," Richard commented, noticing one of the other female students almost dancing nearby. She was wearing bikini briefs and a cutoff T- shirt that left her midriff exposed and only just contained her bobbing breasts, with the logo "Born to Roast" printed on it.

"Not so much an outfit as attractive food packaging," Karen agreed. "Sure you don't want to put these on, Jules?" She pulled out the halter top. It was a neat garment in some clingy white material with two large, ripe cherries strategically placed.

"I think I feel less conspicuous naked than I would in that," Julie said. "It might suit you, though."

"Nah, I'd just get it oily. How about the shorts?"

"No, it's okay. I'm used to it now." Julie sighed resignedly. "Which means I can't complain either, I suppose. I don't know, it just seems different when it's somebody you know. I'm not quite used to being looked at as food by strangers yet. Or maybe it bothers me more when it's you."

Karen stepped forward, put a warm, oily hand on Julie's shoulder and kissed her affectionately. Julie could smell the fragrance of her semi-marinated skin and felt the tips of Karen's breasts brush her own. "You're so sweet," Karen said. Not for the first time, Julie almost wished she were gay.

"Come on," Richard said, "Let's dance."

"I can't dance," Julie demurred.

"Neither can I," Richard replied, "And by the look of things, neither can most of them. What's a party for if you can't get drunk and act like a total pillock? It's okay if everybody's doing it."

Karen put her glass and bag down and spiralled off into the crowd, performing some sinuous, snaky routine of her own invention.

"Might have bloody known," Julie complained. "Just look at her. Sex on legs."

"And such great legs," Joan said admiringly.

"Oh, what the hell," Julie said. She began with a half-hearted shuffle and sway of the hips. The music was some avant-garde jazz-rock stuff with rhythms you wanted to move to but couldn't work out how to, so it didn't much matter what you did. Before very long, she stopped caring.

Half an hour or so later, the foursome broke for drinks, all of them sweaty and exhilarated. Julie's skin was almost as glossy and slick as Karen's now. She wondered if she looked as appetising too. On Joan's recommendation, they all settled for a light, thirst quenching beer.

"I think I could fit a bit more food in now," Karen said. "Maybe some more of Barb, and I really should have a quick bite of Karen M out of respect."

"That's a nice thought," Joan agreed and Julie caught herself nodding involuntarily in concurrence. A nice thought? Was she going native? She wandered over to the serving tables still pondering the thought.

"Here, try these," Joan suggested. "We've all filled up on the main meats, it's a good idea to nibble on the smaller pieces as delicacies after the main course." She indicated a hot tray of curved pieces of meat on the bone. The tray was mounted on a small burner and the meat was smoking hot.

"Beats cheese and biscuits," Karen said. "Ribs?"

"That's right. Pick it up with a napkin or you'll burn your fingers."

Julie and Karen both had a rib of Barbara each. Julie bit into hers. It almost burned her mouth and it was extremely good. "Is there sauce on this?" she asked.

"Yes," Joan said, taking one herself. "They cook the ribs a bit more after the body is cut up, they taste better well done, and they usually add a bit of hot sauce. Want one, Richard?"

"I'll give it a try."

"God, this is good," Julie said after another leisurely bite. There was something sensuous and primally satisfying about eating meat off the bone with her fingers. "I'm surprised there are any of these left."

"As I said, four women is plenty of meat for this many diners; there's always something good left if you aren't stuck on eating only the usual cuts. Not everybody likes ribs."

"Their loss," Julie said. "This is delicious." She had a sudden flash of memory, Barbara talking to Karen almost casually about being roasted, then not so long after that being settled on her spit over the coals. Was that only a few hours ago?

"There's quite a bit of Karen left too," Karen said. Julie gave her a startled glance. "The other one, obviously," Karen said unnecessarily.

"Any ribs?" Richard inquired. "I'd never tried that part before. Really good."

"There's a few here," Karen said.

Julie surveyed the tables bearing the late women's meat, each with its selection of leftover parts and each with its nameplate. She felt an odd, almost enjoyable melancholy mixed with other indefinable emotions. Arousal was one of them, a tinge of suppressed guilt, sated hunger, satisfaction? It was odd. She didn't feel any disgust or revulsion. She certainly didn't feel in any danger of gagging. She wasn't really hungry any more, she was eating just for the pleasure of it. "What did you say happens to the leftovers, Joan?" she asked.

"Oh, the cooks gather up anything usable and turn it into pies, sliced cold cuts, sausages or whatever it's good for," Joan said. "Most of it ends up being eaten by the faculty in one form or another. Bones get boiled up for stock, edible offal too if it isn't made into some ethnic dish like haggis. Of course, you can only use the lungs if the girl wasn't a smoker. Somebody once proposed that we should ban female students from smoking but it got voted down."

"Which way did you vote?"

"Against the proposal, of course. I'm not that fond of haggis anyway, but that kind of repressive, health-fascist crap goes against the grain for me."

"Me too," Karen said. "When any right minded person sees a sign saying 'Thank you for not smoking'," she put on a smarmy, whiny voice for the last bit, "They immediately want to light a cigarette whether they actually smoke or not. Oh, hello James, you fickle thing. I see anyone's feet will do."

James looked around. He was indeed gnawing the meat from a woman's foot. "Oh, hi Karen. Not bad, but I'd rather have had yours." He nodded in Richard's direction. "Is that your better offer? Harry Potter? Bit skinny for you, I'd have thought."

"No, I'm shagging Joan tonight," Karen said, "But if Julie doesn't want him I might give him a try tomorrow."

"Julie's with him?"

"Yes," Julie said.

"Well, er," Richard said.

"You could do better," James said, taking a step in Julie's direction and reaching as if to grab her. Julie stepped back.

"Back off," Richard warned.

"Or you'll do what?" James seemed amused.

"Or I'll hurt you very badly," Richard said flatly. He was serious, Julie realised, and he didn't sound afraid at all.

"Stag fight," Karen murmured. "Over you. Doesn't that push your button?"

Julie was more concerned that Richard would get hurt. James was quite a lot bigger. It was odd. The two men were watching each other closely. Richard looked suddenly poised and steady, slightly tense but in control. James stopped looking amused. He looked uncertain, baffled and angry but trying to hide it. He broke contact and shook his head. "I was just kidding," he said. "God, you're weird, Potter." He left. Richard relaxed.

"What just happened?" Julie asked Richard.

The crisis over, Richard looked slightly shaken but unbowed. "I've met shits like him before," he said tightly. "Bullies. Then I learned a few things."

"What, martial arts? Kung Fu?"

"Bit of Jiu-Jitsu and Tai Chi, some dirty fighting tricks, mostly 'don't give me any shit or I'll rip your throat out'."

Julie had to know. "So it was a bluff? If he'd called you on it, what would you have done?"

"Hurt him very badly," Richard said. "I promised I would and I meant it. That or got hammered. Some things you just can't put up with."

"I am so going to fuck your brains out tonight," Julie said. It was a primitive reaction, she knew, but she didn't care. This whole situation reminded her of something almost familiar.

"Well, ah, I won't argue with that," Richard was saying.

"It's like a wake," Julie said suddenly. "People are dead and we're all drinking, dancing and eating. And getting horny...."

"And paying respects," Richard said.

"Except you don't usually eat the guest of honour at the regular sort of wake," Karen put in. "Pity, really. Well, pity if they were young and healthy and tasty looking. If I got knocked down on the road tomorrow, wouldn't it be a shame if they buried me?" She indicated her body. "Why waste this on the worms?"

"Don't worry, Karen," Joan said, smiling. "If you suffer a fatal accident while you're a student here, your remains will be disposed of appropriately. That is, unless you ticked the opt-out box on your entry form."

"That's a relief," Karen said, deadpan. "I'll sleep easier knowing that."

Julie couldn't remember ticking any such box or even seeing one. It must have been in the small print. That came as a bit of a shock.

"You okay, Julie?" Joan asked.

Julie shook her head. "Just an odd thought. I hope if I trip up and knock myself out, somebody will actually bother to check my pulse before they haul me off to the kitchen or slip me onto a spit."

Joan laughed. "I can assure you, the infirmary staff are quite scrupulous. They wouldn't let us take anybody who wasn't certifiably dead. Seriously, does it worry you?"

"Not really," Julie said. "If I'm dead, I'm dead. I'm sure my ribs would taste as good as anybody's. It just took me by surprise."

"So you're really okay with it?" Richard wanted to be sure.

Julie shrugged. "Like Karen said before, I don't mind the idea of being eaten so much, I'm just not keen on being killed for it." Karen had also said that the idea turned her on. Julie wasn't sure she was ready to admit that even to herself, but it was getting harder to deny it.

"It really gets to you, doesn't it?" somebody said as if commenting on her train of thought. Julie turned and saw the girl in the 'Born to Roast' T-shirt. "I love the outfit, by the way. Classy shoes and nothing else. Wish I'd thought of that. And the other one, your friend is she? Nothing but what looks like cooking oil. Brilliant."

"My friend is Karen Parker," Julie said stressing the 'friend'. "She's oiled because they nearly roasted her. The shoes are hers."

"Were mine," Karen corrected her, stressing the 'were'. "Yours now."

"Oh, God, that's just amazing," the girl said. "I'm so jealous." She turned to Karen. "You're Karen Parker? I heard them call your name. What happened? When they didn't call me I went back and changed. Oh, sorry, I'm Jennifer."

"Don't be sorry," Karen said. "Somebody has to be called Jennifer." Julie gave her a 'be nice' look. "Just kidding. Somebody got caught cheating so they cooked her instead of me. I didn't get dressed again because I don't mind being naked. No big deal."

"How nearly did they get?" Jennifer seemed awestruck.

"Oiled, pole up my cunt, gritting my teeth," Karen said casually, "Doesn't get much closer than that." She took another bite from one of Other Karen's ribs.

"That is SO hot," Jennifer gushed. "I wish it had been me."

"Feel free to volunteer," Joan said, eyeing the ripe breasts Jennifer's T-shirt advertised. "You'd be welcome at the faculty dinner..."

"It's not like I haven't thought about it," Jennifer said. "No offense, but I don't want to be a faculty dinner. Feast Day is like something else. Besides, I don't think I could get up the nerve to do it. It's like I'm waiting for my name to be called, you know? When it's scary and you don't know if you can go through with it and then you hear your name? So you have to."

Karen nodded. "I know what you mean."

"But you didn't want to be called," Julie protested.

"No, not really," Karen said. "But I can sympathise with the feeling. I did wonder what it would be like to go through with it."

"It would be like you're dead," Julie said. "And then you'd end up like this." She indicated the tables of leftover girlmeat.

"Yes," Jennifer said. "I'd be meat. And you'd be there enjoying eating me, wouldn't you?"

It would be impossible to deny that, Julie thought.

"I will, if you get picked for the Winter Feast," Karen said. "Come on, let's see the menu. Get 'em off, I dare you."

Jennifer pulled her top off over her head, revealing a pair of breasts that made even Julie's mouth water. 'Nice rack' barely covered it. She searched for a word that would describe them and only 'luscious' came to mind. There was more.

Jennifer pulled off her bikini briefs. Her pubis glistened with sweat and other juices. Born to roast indeed. If Jennifer did get picked at the Winter Feast, Julie realised, she would definitely want to eat her.

The sound system was playing 'Sympathy for the Devil'.

"Yum," Karen said, smacking her lips ostentatiously. "You're lucky I'm already nearly full."

Jennifer, far from being disconcerted, was lapping this up. She held her hands above her head and turned slowly in a circle, exhibiting herself. It wasn't hard to imagine her rotating in a more horizontal position.

"Practicing for the spit?" Richard offered.

Julie felt a twinge of jealousy. What, don't you think I'd taste as good as her? she thought to herself mockingly, well aware of the irony. Bad enough that she was starting to see Jennifer, another living human being, as food but was she now miffed by the suggestion that Richard might prefer the other girl's meat to her own?

"Just a nice rubdown with cooking oil and you're ready to go," Karen said.

"That depends," Joan said judiciously. "At some of the faculty dinners we have oven roasts. For that, we'd have to slit her belly and gut and stuff her first."

"Oh God," Jennifer gasped, her hands moving down to her toned stomach protectively, as if Joan was about to disembowel her on the spot.

"She'd look better spitted," Karen said.

"You've never had oven roasted girl," Joan countered.

"True," Karen admitted. "Is it good? Oh, silly question..."

Joan nodded. "Quite. If it wasn't, we wouldn't do it. We even tried boiling a girl in a pot once."

"Once? Not so good then?"

"Not so bad, really. Once she was gone, we cut her up and skinned and boned her..."

"Oh my God, you made her into stew?"

"Ugh," Jennifer put in.

"Not exactly," Joan said. "More like a casserole crossed with a pot roast. We put the meat into a smaller pot, in large pieces, with carrots and some herbs and a bit of girlmeat stock. We have lots of that from boiling down the bones and leftovers from the previous meals. Simmered it in the oven for a while..."

"Sounds like it could be quite good," Karen mused.

"Very good, actually," Joan said. She shrugged slightly. "It didn't catch on, though. There's just something about cooking a girl whole..."

Karen nodded. "I don't fancy being boiled, myself. Still, each to their own."

"It's not about what the meat wants though, is it, Joan?" Julie accused.

"No," Joan admitted. "Well, there are some of us who feel that should be taken into consideration..."

"I think it should," Jennifer said. "I don't want to be stew."

"Maybe you should take it up with the Student's Union," Richard suggested half seriously. "Maybe a suggestion box? How I'd like to be cooked....?"

"Don't worry, Jennifer," Joan reassured her. "You won't be stewed."

"I want the whole oiling thing," Jennifer waffled on. "And you've done that..." she looked at Karen.

"In a bath, with Barbara, who got roasted," Karen said. "We oiled each other. Now she's a crispy critter, as the Yanks would say."

"Awesome!"

Mad, Julie thought. They're all insane. "Pity she's dead, though," she said, adding sardonically with a dismissive hand motion, "Oh, all right, I don't mean to be a wet blanket..."

Karen gave her a wry, familiar smile. Jennifer just gave her a slightly nonplussed, slightly quizzical look. Of course she's dead, it seemed to say, that's how the game works, so? "Well, yes, but she did look great on the spit and I bet it was a real rush...."

"Keep the jolly old fingers crossed, it might be you next time and then you'll know," Julie said encouragingly.

"I know. Just thinking about it makes me go all gooey inside." She squirmed visibly. "It would be great if I could see myself being eaten, but you can't have everything."

"Being dead does limit your options a bit in that regard," Julie agreed straight-faced.

Karen was viewing Jennifer's perfect rear with a thoughtful expression. "I wonder if there's any of Marcie's rump left," she mused. "I really should eat a bit of her, considering she saved my life."

It was an interesting way to look at it, Julie thought. The girl had been caught trying to get away with it and would have been quite happy to see Karen cooked instead of her. Well, Karen always was charitable.

"Plenty of meat on THAT rump," Joan remarked. "I'm sure there's a bit left."

The group picked over Marcie's parts and found a few delicacies to fill the small corners in their stomachs.

"There is a way you could see yourself being eaten," Joan said offhandedly. "We did it at a faculty dinner once. Had a girl's legs amputated under anaesthetic and cauterised. We roasted the legs and after she came round she was able to watch us carve and eat them."

"Sounds like fun," Karen said, nibbling some slivers of meat from Marcie's side. "I hope you let her have a taste."

"We did," Joan said. "She sat at the table and had dinner with us. Charming girl, though she seemed a little delirious at times."

"Oh God," Jennifer gasped, hands reflexively moving to her thighs.

"What did you do with the rest of her?" Karen wondered. "Hey, this bit just above the hip is really nice."

"Roasted her alive the next day," Joan said.

"That sounds interesting," Karen remarked. "Not sure whether I fancy it or not. Must be harder fucking the pole with your legs cut off. No feet to push with."

"I don't know," Jennifer said. She seemed genuinely torn. "Would you do me like that if I volunteered?"

Julie could hardly believe she was hearing this.

"Almost certainly, if you volunteered and that's what you wanted," Joan said, "Of course, if you just got picked at random we'd do whatever we liked. It's not exactly a rule, but requests from volunteers are usually honoured as long as they're not unreasonable. If you're picked, you're just a meat source we use as we want. We might humour a preference to be cooked alive or snuffed first, but we decide how you're cooked."

"So, roasted whole in the traditional way or chopped and watch people eating you while tasting yourself," Karen summarised briskly to Jennifer. "Tough choice, eh?"

"But a choice you only get if you volunteer," Julie pointed out seriously. "Which means your goose is definitely cooked, however you do it." She gave Joan a look.

"I know," Jennifer said, still apparently agonising over it.

"Think about it while you get the drinks in," Julie suggested. Jennifer, relieved, agreed and took everybody's orders. As she hurried off, still naked and presenting a delightful rear view that Julie couldn't help notice Richard and Karen admiring, she said to Joan reprovingly, "I can't believe you're trying to talk her into it."

"I was only laying out her options," Joan said mildly. "Besides, somebody's going to be the main course at the next faculty dinner, why shouldn't it be her? She might even enjoy it. Would you rather it was somebody else? You, for instance?"

"No, but..." Julie paused. But what? Joan was right, somebody would have to do it anyway, so why not somebody who wanted to? "I suppose it doesn't hurt that she's..." Another pause.

Joan grinned. "She's what? A luscious piece of meat?" She nodded at the discarded T-shirt. "Born to Roast?"

"Is that what I am too?" Julie questioned, "Or am I, what, grade B meat on the hoof?" As soon as she'd said it, she was embarrassed. What was she complaining about, being seen as meat or Jennifer being seen as better?

"Hardly that," Joan said, not wanting to rub Julie's nose in it. "You're a good student, one of my best, you're someone I'd like to fuck if you weren't straight and if you end up on the menu I'll enjoy eating you. I'm not trying to talk you into it because it wouldn't work, that's all."

"Sounds reasonable to me," Karen said. She put a companionable arm around Julie's shoulders. "Come on, Juju, let's stop arguing and enjoy the party. Miss Meatmuffin is coming back with the drinks. We can all get plastered, go to bed and get messily laid and wake up wondering where the hell we are."

Half an hour or so later, the foursome broke for drinks, all of them sweaty and exhilarated. Julie's skin was almost as glossy and slick as Karen's now. She wondered if she looked as appetising too. On Joan's recommendation, they all settled for a light, thirst quenching beer.

"I think I could fit a bit more food in now," Karen said. "Maybe some more of Barb, and I really should have a quick bite of Karen M out of respect."

"That's a nice thought," Joan agreed and Julie caught herself nodding involuntarily in concurrence. A nice thought? Was she going native? She wandered over to the serving tables still pondering the thought.

"Here, try these," Joan suggested. "We've all filled up on the main meats, it's a good idea to nibble on the smaller pieces as delicacies after the main course." She indicated a hot tray of curved pieces of meat on the bone. The tray was mounted on a small burner and the meat was smoking hot.

"Beats cheese and biscuits," Karen said. "Ribs?"

"That's right. Pick it up with a napkin or you'll burn your fingers."

Julie and Karen both had a rib of Barbara each. Julie bit into hers. It almost burned her mouth and it was extremely good. "Is there sauce on this?" she asked.

"Yes," Joan said, taking one herself. "They cook the ribs a bit more after the body is cut up, they taste better well done, and they usually add a bit of hot sauce. Want one, Richard?"

"I'll give it a try."

"God, this is good," Julie said after another leisurely bite. There was something sensuous and primally satisfying about eating meat off the bone with her fingers. "I'm surprised there are any of these left."

"As I said, four women is plenty of meat for this many diners; there's always something good left if you aren't stuck on eating only the usual cuts. Not everybody likes ribs."

"Their loss," Julie said. "This is delicious." She had a sudden flash of memory, Barbara talking to Karen almost casually about being roasted, then not so long after that being settled on her spit over the coals. Was that only a few hours ago?

"There's quite a bit of Karen left too," Karen said. Julie gave her a startled glance. "The other one, obviously," Karen said unnecessarily.

"Any ribs?" Richard inquired. "I'd never tried that part before. Really good."

"There's a few here," Karen said.

Julie surveyed the tables bearing the late women's meat, each with its selection of leftover parts and each with its nameplate. She felt an odd, almost enjoyable melancholy mixed with other indefinable emotions. Arousal was one of them, a tinge of suppressed guilt, sated hunger, satisfaction? It was odd. She didn't feel any disgust or revulsion. She certainly didn't feel in any danger of gagging. She wasn't really hungry any more, she was eating just for the pleasure of it. "What did you say happens to the leftovers, Joan?" she asked.

"Oh, the cooks gather up anything usable and turn it into pies, sliced cold cuts, sausages or whatever it's good for," Joan said. "Most of it ends up being eaten by the faculty in one form or another. Bones get boiled up for stock, edible offal too if it isn't made into some ethnic dish like haggis. Of course, you can only use the lungs if the girl wasn't a smoker. Somebody once proposed that we should ban female students from smoking but it got voted down."

"Which way did you vote?"

"Against the proposal, of course. I'm not that fond of haggis anyway, but that kind of repressive, health-fascist crap goes against the grain for me."

"Me too," Karen said. "When any right minded person sees a sign saying 'Thank you for not smoking'," she put on a smarmy, whiny voice for the last bit, "They immediately want to light a cigarette whether they actually smoke or not. Oh, hello James, you fickle thing. I see anyone's feet will do."

James looked around. He was indeed gnawing the meat from a woman's foot. "Oh, hi Karen. Not bad, but I'd rather have had yours." He nodded in Richard's direction. "Is that your better offer? Harry Potter? Bit skinny for you, I'd have thought."

"No, I'm shagging Joan tonight," Karen said, "But if Julie doesn't want him I might give him a try tomorrow."

"Julie's with him?"

"Yes," Julie said.

"Well, er," Richard said.

"You could do better," James said, taking a step in Julie's direction and reaching as if to grab her. Julie stepped back.

"Back off," Richard warned.

"Or you'll do what?" James seemed amused.

"Or I'll hurt you very badly," Richard said flatly. He was serious, Julie realised, and he didn't sound afraid at all.

"Stag fight," Karen murmured. "Over you. Doesn't that push your button?"

Julie was more concerned that Richard would get hurt. James was quite a lot bigger. It was odd. The two men were watching each other closely. Richard looked suddenly poised and steady, slightly tense but in control. James stopped looking amused. He looked uncertain, baffled and angry but trying to hide it. He broke contact and shook his head. "I was just kidding," he said. "God, you're weird, Potter." He left. Richard relaxed.

"What just happened?" Julie asked Richard.

The crisis over, Richard looked slightly shaken but unbowed. "I've met shits like him before," he said tightly. "Bullies. Then I learned a few things."

"What, martial arts? Kung Fu?"

"Bit of Jiu-Jitsu and Tai Chi, some dirty fighting tricks, mostly 'don't give me any shit or I'll rip your throat out'."

Julie had to know. "So it was a bluff? If he'd called you on it, what would you have done?"

"Hurt him very badly," Richard said. "I promised I would and I meant it. That or got hammered. Some things you just can't put up with."

"I am so going to fuck your brains out tonight," Julie said. It was a primitive reaction, she knew, but she didn't care. This whole situation reminded her of something almost familiar.

"Well, ah, I won't argue with that," Richard was saying.

"It's like a wake," Julie said suddenly. "People are dead and we're all drinking, dancing and eating. And getting horny...."

"And paying respects," Richard said.

"Except you don't usually eat the guest of honour at the regular sort of wake," Karen put in. "Pity, really. Well, pity if they were young and healthy and tasty looking. If I got knocked down on the road tomorrow, wouldn't it be a shame if they buried me?" She indicated her body. "Why waste this on the worms?"

"Don't worry, Karen," Joan said, smiling. "If you suffer a fatal accident while you're a student here, your remains will be disposed of appropriately. That is, unless you ticked the opt-out box on your entry form."

"That's a relief," Karen said, deadpan. "I'll sleep easier knowing that."

Julie couldn't remember ticking any such box or even seeing one. It must have been in the small print. That came as a bit of a shock.

"You okay, Julie?" Joan asked.

Julie shook her head. "Just an odd thought. I hope if I trip up and knock myself out, somebody will actually bother to check my pulse before they haul me off to the kitchen or slip me onto a spit."

Joan laughed. "I can assure you, the infirmary staff are quite scrupulous. They wouldn't let us take anybody who wasn't certifiably dead. Seriously, does it worry you?"

"Not really," Julie said. "If I'm dead, I'm dead. I'm sure my ribs would taste as good as anybody's. It just took me by surprise."

"So you're really okay with it?" Richard wanted to be sure.

Julie shrugged. "Like Karen said before, I don't mind the idea of being eaten so much, I'm just not keen on being killed for it." Karen had also said that the idea turned her on. Julie wasn't sure she was ready to admit that even to herself, but it was getting harder to deny it.

"It really gets to you, doesn't it?" somebody said as if commenting on her train of thought. Julie turned and saw the girl in the 'Born to Roast' T-shirt. "I love the outfit, by the way. Classy shoes and nothing else. Wish I'd thought of that. And the other one, your friend is she? Nothing but what looks like cooking oil. Brilliant."

"My friend is Karen Parker," Julie said stressing the 'friend'. "She's oiled because they nearly roasted her. The shoes are hers."

"Were mine," Karen corrected her, stressing the 'were'. "Yours now."

"Oh, God, that's just amazing," the girl said. "I'm so jealous." She turned to Karen. "You're Karen Parker? I heard them call your name. What happened? When they didn't call me I went back and changed. Oh, sorry, I'm Jennifer."

"Don't be sorry," Karen said. "Somebody has to be called Jennifer." Julie gave her a 'be nice' look. "Just kidding. Somebody got caught cheating so they cooked her instead of me. I didn't get dressed again because I don't mind being naked. No big deal."

"How nearly did they get?" Jennifer seemed awestruck.

"Oiled, pole up my cunt, gritting my teeth," Karen said casually, "Doesn't get much closer than that." She took another bite from one of Other Karen's ribs.

"That is SO hot," Jennifer gushed. "I wish it had been me."

"Feel free to volunteer," Joan said, eyeing the ripe breasts Jennifer's T-shirt advertised. "You'd be welcome at the faculty dinner..."

"It's not like I haven't thought about it," Jennifer said. "No offense, but I don't want to be a faculty dinner. Feast Day is like something else. Besides, I don't think I could get up the nerve to do it. It's like I'm waiting for my name to be called, you know? When it's scary and you don't know if you can go through with it and then you hear your name? So you have to."

Karen nodded. "I know what you mean."

"But you didn't want to be called," Julie protested.

"No, not really," Karen said. "But I can sympathise with the feeling. I did wonder what it would be like to go through with it."

"It would be like you're dead," Julie said. "And then you'd end up like this." She indicated the tables of leftover girlmeat.

"Yes," Jennifer said. "I'd be meat. And you'd be there enjoying eating me, wouldn't you?"

It would be impossible to deny that, Julie thought.

"I will, if you get picked for the Winter Feast," Karen said. "Come on, let's see the menu. Get 'em off, I dare you."

Jennifer pulled her top off over her head, revealing a pair of breasts that made even Julie's mouth water. 'Nice rack' barely covered it. She searched for a word that would describe them and only 'luscious' came to mind. There was more.

Jennifer pulled off her bikini briefs. Her pubis glistened with sweat and other juices. Born to roast indeed. If Jennifer did get picked at the Winter Feast, Julie realised, she would definitely want to eat her.

The sound system was playing 'Sympathy for the Devil'.

"Yum," Karen said, smacking her lips ostentatiously. "You're lucky I'm already nearly full."

Jennifer, far from being disconcerted, was lapping this up. She held her hands above her head and turned slowly in a circle, exhibiting herself. It wasn't hard to imagine her rotating in a more horizontal position.

"Practicing for the spit?" Richard offered.

Julie felt a twinge of jealousy. What, don't you think I'd taste as good as her? she thought to herself mockingly, well aware of the irony. Bad enough that she was starting to see Jennifer, another living human being, as food but was she now miffed by the suggestion that Richard might prefer the other girl's meat to her own?

"Just a nice rubdown with cooking oil and you're ready to go," Karen said.

"That depends," Joan said judiciously. "At some of the faculty dinners we have oven roasts. For that, we'd have to slit her belly and gut and stuff her first."

"Oh God," Jennifer gasped, her hands moving down to her toned stomach protectively, as if Joan was about to disembowel her on the spot.

"She'd look better spitted," Karen said.

"You've never had oven roasted girl," Joan countered.

"True," Karen admitted. "Is it good? Oh, silly question..."

Joan nodded. "Quite. If it wasn't, we wouldn't do it. We even tried boiling a girl in a pot once."

"Once? Not so good then?"

"Not so bad, really. Once she was gone, we cut her up and skinned and boned her..."

"Oh my God, you made her into stew?"

"Ugh," Jennifer put in.

"Not exactly," Joan said. "More like a casserole crossed with a pot roast. We put the meat into a smaller pot, in large pieces, with carrots and some herbs and a bit of girlmeat stock. We have lots of that from boiling down the bones and leftovers from the previous meals. Simmered it in the oven for a while..."

"Sounds like it could be quite good," Karen mused.

"Very good, actually," Joan said. She shrugged slightly. "It didn't catch on, though. There's just something about cooking a girl whole..."

Karen nodded. "I don't fancy being boiled, myself. Still, each to their own."

"It's not about what the meat wants though, is it, Joan?" Julie accused.

"No," Joan admitted. "Well, there are some of us who feel that should be taken into consideration..."

"I think it should," Jennifer said. "I don't want to be stew."

"Maybe you should take it up with the Student's Union," Richard suggested half seriously. "Maybe a suggestion box? How I'd like to be cooked....?"

"Don't worry, Jennifer," Joan reassured her. "You won't be stewed."

"I want the whole oiling thing," Jennifer waffled on. "And you've done that..." she looked at Karen.

"In a bath, with Barbara, who got roasted," Karen said. "We oiled each other. Now she's a crispy critter, as the Yanks would say."

"Awesome!"

Mad, Julie thought. They're all insane. "Pity she's dead, though," she said, adding sardonically with a dismissive hand motion, "Oh, all right, I don't mean to be a wet blanket..."

Karen gave her a wry, familiar smile. Jennifer just gave her a slightly nonplussed, slightly quizzical look. Of course she's dead, it seemed to say, that's how the game works, so? "Well, yes, but she did look great on the spit and I bet it was a real rush...."

"Keep the jolly old fingers crossed, it might be you next time and then you'll know," Julie said encouragingly.

"I know. Just thinking about it makes me go all gooey inside." She squirmed visibly. "It would be great if I could see myself being eaten, but you can't have everything."

"Being dead does limit your options a bit in that regard," Julie agreed straight-faced.

Karen was viewing Jennifer's perfect rear with a thoughtful expression. "I wonder if there's any of Marcie's rump left," she mused. "I really should eat a bit of her, considering she saved my life."

It was an interesting way to look at it, Julie thought. The girl had been caught trying to get away with it and would have been quite happy to see Karen cooked instead of her. Well, Karen always was charitable.

"Plenty of meat on THAT rump," Joan remarked. "I'm sure there's a bit left."

The group picked over Marcie's parts and found a few delicacies to fill the small corners in their stomachs.

"There is a way you could see yourself being eaten," Joan said offhandedly. "We did it at a faculty dinner once. Had a girl's legs amputated under anaesthetic and cauterised. We roasted the legs and after she came round she was able to watch us carve and eat them."

"Sounds like fun," Karen said, nibbling some slivers of meat from Marcie's side. "I hope you let her have a taste."

"We did," Joan said. "She sat at the table and had dinner with us. Charming girl, though she seemed a little delirious at times."

"Oh God," Jennifer gasped, hands reflexively moving to her thighs.

"What did you do with the rest of her?" Karen wondered. "Hey, this bit just above the hip is really nice."

"Roasted her alive the next day," Joan said.

"That sounds interesting," Karen remarked. "Not sure whether I fancy it or not. Must be harder fucking the pole with your legs cut off. No feet to push with."

"I don't know," Jennifer said. She seemed genuinely torn. "Would you do me like that if I volunteered?"

Julie could hardly believe she was hearing this.

"Almost certainly, if you volunteered and that's what you wanted," Joan said, "Of course, if you just got picked at random we'd do whatever we liked. It's not exactly a rule, but requests from volunteers are usually honoured as long as they're not unreasonable. If you're picked, you're just a meat source we use as we want. We might humour a preference to be cooked alive or snuffed first, but we decide how you're cooked."

"So, roasted whole in the traditional way or chopped and watch people eating you while tasting yourself," Karen summarised briskly to Jennifer. "Tough choice, eh?"

"But a choice you only get if you volunteer," Julie pointed out seriously. "Which means your goose is definitely cooked, however you do it." She gave Joan a look.

"I know," Jennifer said, still apparently agonising over it.

"Think about it while you get the drinks in," Julie suggested. Jennifer, relieved, agreed and took everybody's orders. As she hurried off, still naked and presenting a delightful rear view that Julie couldn't help notice Richard and Karen admiring, she said to Joan reprovingly, "I can't believe you're trying to talk her into it."

"I was only laying out her options," Joan said mildly. "Besides, somebody's going to be the main course at the next faculty dinner, why shouldn't it be her? She might even enjoy it. Would you rather it was somebody else? You, for instance?"

"No, but..." Julie paused. But what? Joan was right, somebody would have to do it anyway, so why not somebody who wanted to? "I suppose it doesn't hurt that she's..." Another pause.

Joan grinned. "She's what? A luscious piece of meat?" She nodded at the discarded T-shirt. "Born to Roast?"

"Is that what I am too?" Julie questioned, "Or am I, what, grade B meat on the hoof?" As soon as she'd said it, she was embarrassed. What was she complaining about, being seen as meat or Jennifer being seen as better?

"Hardly that," Joan said, not wanting to rub Julie's nose in it. "You're a good student, one of my best, you're someone I'd like to fuck if you weren't straight and if you end up on the menu I'll enjoy eating you. I'm not trying to talk you into it because it wouldn't work, that's all."

"Sounds reasonable to me," Karen said. She put a companionable arm around Julie's shoulders. "Come on, Juju, let's stop arguing and enjoy the party. Miss Meatmuffin is coming back with the drinks. We can all get plastered, go to bed and get messily laid and wake up wondering where the hell we are."

So they did that and a good time was had by all.

"It's that time of the month...." Karen announced in the now familiar way.

"And another Feast Day to boot," Julie grumbled. "Oh joy, four chances to get picked instead of just one. Doesn't time fly?" She stripped off efficiently, without self-consciousness. "I still don't know why we have to put on these ridiculous robes. We can't go outside naked because it's mid- winter, so why can't we just undress when we get to the main hall?"

Karen shrugged. "Buggered if I know. Tradition, I suppose. Anyway, I rather like it. Gives the whole thing more of a sense of occasion."

Due to the summer vacation, there had only been three faculty dinners since summer feast day and, fortunately, neither of the girls, nor anyone they knew well, had been picked. Julie was beginning to get used to it. She zipped up her leather, calf-length boots. "I might have known you'd enjoy it," she said. "Oh well, I suppose it does mean we can get dressed again faster when it's over."

"That's the girl," Karen said. "Look on the bright side. Anyway, don't you think it feels sexy wearing nothing but boots under a glorified bathrobe?"

"I suppose it might, if it doesn't freeze my arse off on the way to the hall."

Karen snorted. "Made your mind up about the big question? To eat or not to eat?"

"Yes," Julie said. "You were right all along. If I'm picked, I'll roast, so if I get a ticket, I'll eat."

"What changed your mind? I take it you're still not exactly keen on the system."

"Not exactly, no. I just realised I wasn't thinking it through. I was doing things by halves. If I really wanted to make a protest gesture, what should I do?"

"Bomb the staff lounge?" Karen suggested facetiously.

"No, seriously. I should leave. I'm supporting the whole system just by being here. I should leave and find a cheaper college or support myself with a part time job. But I'm still here because of the reduced fees or the course or whatever, so what's the point in making token gestures and holding my nose? Like it or not, I'm here and I might as well stop pretending I'm not."

"Welcome to the jungle," Karen said. "Hey, we might be eating together again. I know they're not supposed to tell, but my Prof has dropped a few hints that I may be up for a ticket this time."

"Hard work has its rewards," Julie approved. "If I get picked, you can eat me. I'm sure Richard will." She and Richard had been lovers since the last Feast Day, but she continued to room with Karen.

Karen gave her a worried look. "It won't happen," she said firmly, perhaps hoping that saying it would make it so. She had never retracted her declaration of love for Julie, nor had Julie stopped being heterosexual. They had both learned to live with it. Karen still took casual lovers of both sexes on occasion, while Julie's sole partner was Richard. By unspoken agreement, neither of them talked about committment. There would be time for that after she graduated, if she did.