Posted by PK on December 29, 2005 at 12:49:49:
Brianna - Bree to her friends - went through the same emotions every time she started a new shift
on a 'specials' night. 'Specials' just meant that the waitresses were on the menu, and even if
most of the customers didn't actually order them - too expensive for most people - they got a kick
out of knowing that the option was there and that somebody else might. It added to the
atmosphere. For the waitresses, it added to both the tips and the tension. Bree got through the
initial butterfly-stomach phase by rote and routine. She undressed, folded her street clothes
carefully and selected her work costume with unnecessary deliberation. There really weren't that
many options. The waitresses were only allowed one brief item of clothing above the ankles -
shoes were optional - which meant leaving the top or bottom essentials bare. Opinions varied as
to which would be more likely to get you chopped. Bree chose to wear a brief blue bikini bottom
and open sandals. The briefs were very brief and didn't hide much, but at least they were
opaque, unlike the infamous 'pussy package'. She exchanged cordial greetings with the rest of
the staff as they changed, refusing to speculate on which of them might not be going home
tonight. She took a deep breath, glanced at the clock, and went out onto the floor of the
restaurant. Another day, another dollar...hopefully.
Mark glanced around incredulously. He could hardly believe Jo had brought him here, even on
an occasion like this. The waitresses were all half-naked and, apparently, on the menu tonight.
Not that they could really do anything about that at these prices. He hardly knew where to look.
"See anything you fancy?" Jo teased. "Go on, ogle all you like, it's your birthday."
Mark looked around slowly, affecting a nonchalance he didn't feel. "Okay. The one with the short,
dark, curly hair and the blue briefs," he decided at last.
"And the tits like melons and the all-over tan," Jo said, grinning.
Mark squirmed a little in his seat. "More like grapefruit. Or coconuts. And she has nice eyes." At
least he could pick the girl who'd be serving them, even if all they could afford to eat was a tuna
salad between them. The beers they'd already ordered would put a big enough dent in his
pocket. Maybe Jo had actually saved up enough for one of the less exorbitantly priced cuts of
girlflesh, left over from a waitress somebody else had ordered the last specials night. Or the
imported Third World stuff...
"Whatever." Jo beckoned the dark haired girl over to their table.
"Yes Ma'am?" Bree inquired evenly. Her pulse was up slightly, as usual, but her voice was level:
a result of on-the-job experience. "Are you ready to order?"
"Almost," Jo said. She gave Bree's body a frank and thorough inspection. "What's your name?"
she inquired sociably.
"Brianna, Ma'am," Bree said. "Bree for short."
"I'm Jo and this is my boyfriend Mark. Nice breasts you've got, Bree," Jo said admiringly. "Full,
firm and succulent."
"Thank you Ma'am," Bree said neutrally. What big teeth you have, Jo. Her heart was beating
faster now. Maybe this was the one, the Big Bad Wolf. Of course, it was probably just the sort of
teasing, lascivious compliment half the customers indulged in. It happened all the time. All part of
the fun of dining here, even if you couldn't afford the top prices. Sure it was.
"We'll have them for starters," Jo went on casually. "One each, separate plates. And could you
serve them to us yourself?"
It was an unusual request, but not unheard of. Bree had never seen it done. "Of course, Ma'am,"
she said automatically, keeping her voice steady with an effort over the pounding in her ears. "An
excellent choice. How would you like them cooked?"
"Whatever the Chef thinks best," Jo said, "But not overdone or over-seasoned."
"Naturally not," Bree agreed. Why smother caviare with ketchup? "Anything to drink?" She felt as
if she was playing a part in a drama, detached from reality. She realised her nipples were stiffly
erect and her groin felt mushy and tingly. She hoped it didn't show and shifted her legs slightly,
resisting the urge to fondle herself. Keep it together...
"The house table wine. White with breast meat, do you think?"
Bree nodded. "And for your main course?"
"Oh, I think we'll choose that when you come back with the starters," Jo said.
Mark stared at Bree's shapely, departing back as she headed for the kitchen. "I can't believe you
just did that," he said. "Is this a setup or something? They're not really going to...."
"Cut that girl's tits off, cook them and have her serve them to us? Yup."
"And the rest of her..."
"What we don't eat will go on the menu for anybody to order. Once she's been started, they'll
have to use her up."
Use her up. Just like that. Mark's head was spinning. He took a sip of his beer. "How the hell can
we afford it anyway?"
"Trust me, I've got it covered. My treat," Jo said, smirking slightly.
Bree entered the kitchen in a fog. One more week, she kept thinking, and I'd have been finished
here. And here I am, finished. Right now.
"Yes?" the head chef snapped. "Earth to meat girl? Who wants what? You?"
"Oh. Yes. Table seven wants my tits. Two plates, served by me. Can we do that?"
"Of course we can. Here." The chef indicated a clean cutting table. "Get up."
Bree obediently climbed onto the table, swinging her legs up and lying back. "How does this
work? Will you..."
"Quiet." The chef had a long, thin, curved knife in his hand. "This is tricky. You have to get the
breast flesh without cutting the muscle..."
Bree closed her eyes briefly as a cold, numbing sensation crossed her chest. She opened her
eyes again. Her breasts were gone, just like that. The chef was lifting them carefully into a
microwave toaster oven or something and one of his assistants was spraying her raw chest with
something gooey. "Liquid instant skin gel," the youth explained. "Numbs and cauterises. Sit up."
Bree got up on her elbows. This was unreal. The youth had a lengthy band of white cotton which
he wrapped around her newly slimmed torso and tied at the back like a sash. "You'll look neater
like that. It should hold for long enough." Long enough for her to serve the table and come back
to be finished off, Bree understood. He touched a spray hypodermic to her arm. "Mild narcotic,"
he said brusquely. "It'll keep you steady."
"Okay," she said. "I'll need a bottle of white table wine......hey!" The youth was pulling her briefs
down her legs.
"Got to show something," he explained. "Your top's covered and your tits are gone anyway, so..."
he shrugged. QED.
It made a sort of sense. Brianna relaxed and helped toe the briefs off over her sandals. The air
felt cool against her bare crotch. The youth held the briefs to his nose. "Aromatic," he quipped
cheekily before tossing them into a bin.
"I still can't believe this," Mark said again, shaking his head. "We're really going to have that poor
girl for dinner? She was talking to us only a few minutes ago. Tomorrow she'll be leftovers."
"I doubt if there'll be much of her left over by closing time," Jo argued. "Did you SEE those legs?
Silly question. Oh come on, don't pretend you haven't always wanted to eat a woman. I've seen
your collection of Dolcett cartoons, and all the other cannibal stuff."
"But that was fantasy," Mark protested. "That girl..."
"Brianna," Jo prompted.
"Brianna - is real. She's really going to be killed."
Jo smiled and shrugged. "So? She knew the score when she came to work here. It's very good
money, I gather. Besides, it probably turns her on. Didn't you notice the crotch of her pants
looked a little....moist? Think about it. However good the pay is, you'd have to get some kind of
kick out of it to take a job like that, wouldn't you? Oh, speak of the devil..." She smiled affably at
the approaching figure. "Looks like our food is here."
The waitress looked different, Mark noted. She had on a sort of white halter over a flat chest -
naturally, considering what she had on the tray - and no panties, revealing a clean-shaven pubis
that glistened slightly, suggesting that Jo might be right. Considering her situation, she looked
remarkably composed. Dazed?
It had taken surprisingly little time for the chef to prepare the dish. A few minutes in the combined
microwave and browning grill and that was that. The breasts were slid onto clean plates and the
plates onto a serving tray while Bree was still getting used to her new outfit and finding her
balance. On the way to the table she couldn't help thinking how tasty her own tits looked. She
thought of taking a quick bite - she could only die once - but somehow couldn't bring herself to do
it. Professionalism, she told herself ironically.
"Those look delicious," Jo said graciously as Bree slid the plates onto the table. "Compliments to
the chef - and to you of course."
"Thank you and you're welcome," Bree said lightly. "Would you like to order your main course
now?"
Jo nodded. She patted Bree's upper thigh. "Some of this, I think. Two juicy steaks right from the
top. Rare to medium, I think. And...." she paused as if considering and then slipped a proprietary
finger into Bree's vagina, "I think we'll have your 'filet'. Birthday present for Mark," she explained
confidentially.
"I hope very much that you enjoy it, Sir," Brianna said to Mark, who blushed and mumbled
something incomprehensible, "And that you both enjoy your steaks. I won't be able to serve you,
of course, someone else will bring them. Wine?"
"Something red and hearty, but not too abrasive," Jo ordered.
"Very good, Ma'am."
The waitress turned to go and Mark stared after her. "Now they'll chop her up," he said
wonderingly.
Jo stared at him quizzically. "What else? Come on, eat your starter before it gets cold."
When Mark cut into Brianna's left breast he almost came in his pants and had to stop for a
breath. When he finally took a bite he almost fainted.
"Good?" Jo asked wryly.
"Two top cut thigh steaks - mine - medium rare for table seven and my filet for the male guest,"
Bree rapped out as she entered the kitchen. She got onto the nearest table without being asked.
"Might as well do the rest of you, then," one of the sous-chefs said. "You won't be waiting any
more tables."
"True," Bree said. She sighed and relaxed. It was nearly over. She wondered if they'd cut her
head off right away or just keep slicing bits from her until there was nothing left. A helpful pair of
hands pulled off her sandals. Well, she wasn't going anywhere. Somebody touched an electric
saw to her right leg.
There was another brief stab of pain at her throat, then a flash of light lit her brain and suddenly
she was floating above her body. She could feel a hand gripping her by her short, curly hair. It
dawned on her that she had been decapitated. Kitchen gnomes were working on the rest of her,
cutting her arms and legs off and disembowelling her. Now the chef was carefully excising her
genitals with a curiously shaped implement. Sentimental tears filled her eyes. It had been such a
nice body, too. She imagined it sliced up, cooked, on plates all over the restaurant. Oh well..
"Take a last look. That's you, meat girl," a voice said jovially.
Bree tried to speak but she had no breath left. Only seconds to live. She felt no rancour towards
the young couple who had killed her. That was all part of the game. It was why her wages were so
high, why they had come here....she had gambled, that was all. Gambled and lost. She died.
"I hope you enjoyed your meal, Sir and Madam," the new waitress said, presenting a piece of
discreetly folded pink paper.
The meal had been excellent. For Mark, beyond his wildest dreams. After Brianna's creamy,
succulent breast had come a thick, juicy slice of her thigh with her almost raw filet on top of it,
served by a blonde waitress with a swimmer's build wearing something the size of a string and
two postage stamps on her athletic chest. He had given up all inhibition and gorged himself like a
wild animal. Jo had eaten more daintily but had somehow disposed of her portion without
difficulty. She had enlivened the meal with a commentary about the distribution of Brianna's other
parts to the rest of the clientele. She was, indeed, selling like hot cakes.
Now Jo studied the bill. "I'm afraid I don't have that much money," she said casually. "I don't
suppose I could make it up washing dishes?"
Mark stared at Jo. "What....?"
The waitress' smile faded and she made a hand signal, presumably to the heavy-set men Mark
had noticed hanging about unobtrusively. "I'm afraid not," she said coolly. "That was a very
expensive meal and one of our best waitresses you ate - not to mention a personal friend of mine
- and we have a very strict policy on defaulters. Unless you can find some alternative means of
payment we will have to call the police."
"Maybe I could come to some arrangement with the manager?" Jo seemed alarmingly flippant.
"I doubt it." Two of the large men were approaching.
"We don't want a fuss in here, do we?" Jo said quietly. "Just take us to the manager's office and
we'll see what we can do."
There was nothing else for it, it seemed. Escorted by the waitress and the two well-dressed
gorillas, Mark and Jo were escorted to the office. "What the fuck are you playing at, Jo?" Mark
hissed at her urgently. "I thought you said you had it covered."
"Wait and see," Jo smirked.
The manager, a cigar-smoking man of rough diamond manners, was disinclined to listen to offers
or excuses. "Call the cops," he instructed curtly.
"Wait," Jo said urgently. "What if I could repay you in kind?"
"In what? What the fuck are you talking about?"
"In me. I'll work here for free until my debt's paid off or I get cooked. Body for body. Me for Bree.
It's a good deal for you, you've already sold most of her that we didn't eat and you get my whole
body to sell if I'm ordered - or all the money I owe if I don't."
The manager stroked his stubbly chin. "I don't like lettin' people off," he grumbled. "Sets a bad
example....." He ruminated some more. "What the fuck. Okay, let's see what you got."
Jo didn't need any clarification on that point. She stripped off, tossing her clothes casually onto a
chair. No underpants, Mark noted. That made sense. She had obviously had this in mind all
along and had been eagerly anticipating this moment, the big reveal. "You'd have to get some
kind of kick out of it," he recalled suddenly. The manager got up from his desk and examined her
like a stock farmer valuing a heifer. "Not bad merchandise," he admitted grudgingly. "Small tits,
but perky. Good legs. Nice, firm ass." He confirmed this with a pinch. "You still owe me for
cheating."
"I'll work naked if you like," Jo said agreeably. "Whatever you want."
A slow grin spread over the manager's face. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out something
pale and flimsy. "You can wear this," he said. "The girls call it the 'pussy package'; try it on."
"Well, I had hoped to inherit Bree's little outfit, but what the hell..." Jo slipped the garment on. It
was a pair of briefs in some soft, sheer white material that was almost transparent. The front
panel didn't so much conceal her pubis as display it, like a shrink-wrapped slice of melon. There
should have been a logo on it saying 'peel me'.
"It's a food wrapper," Jo observed brightly.
"Got it in one," the manager said, grinning.
"That's one of the other names for it," the blonde girl agreed cheerfully. Gloating? Maybe just a
little bit. "Meat wrapper. Kitchen bait. None of the girls will wear it any more. The last three who
did got eaten the first time they went out in it on a 'specials' night."
"Jo, you can't..." Mark uttered. "This isn't fair," he told the manager. She won't have a chance."
"That's the deal," the manager said, shrugging. "Take it or leave it."
"I love it," Jo said, "Sure I'll wear it. Draw up the contract, I'll sign it now." She smiled at Mark.
"Suits me, don't you think?" She struck a hipshot pose.
"But..." Hmmm, well.... Actually, she did look good in it. Delicious, in fact. Mark could easily
imagine her on the restaurant floor waiting tables, waiting to be ordered, just as Brianna had. She
might last ten minutes dressed like that. Hell, if he was there and he had the money he'd
probably order her himself. Filet of Jo on a plate....yum.
"You couldn't afford me," Jo grinned, reading his mind. "Mark, I enjoyed the Dolcett cannibal
cartoons too, remember? Who do you think I identified with? You've lived your fantasy, now it's
my turn. Anyway, just imagine what our sex life is going to be like between now and the next
specials night."
Mark imagined. Jo was a lively bedmate on any normal day, but now? "By then I'll probably be
hoping you DO get cooked," he joked feebly.
Jo laughed anyway. "That's the spirit," she said.