Posted by Sawney Beane on March 10, 2007 at 23:30:17:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #25
THE CRUISE
by Sawney Beane
27 October, 25-27 November 1994;
9-10 May, 10 June, 3-4 July 1995
8,903 words
DISTRIBUTION NOTICE and DISCLAIMER: Sawney Beane requests that any distribution of this work of fiction remain within the realm of social responsibility. This story is suitable neither for minors nor for the seeming majority of adults who have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality. It is pure fantasy, which means that, for whatever reason, someone has found it interesting to think about the events depicted herein. It does not in any way mean that the author would like to see this fantasy become reality, so if you are the type of person who might be swayed into doing something irrational by reading a work of fiction, the author respectfully requests that you decline to read further.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sawney Beane, originally a native of Edinburgh, lived for twenty-five years in a cave on the coast of County Galloway, subsisting on the flesh of unfortunate travellers, roughly a thousand of them all told. He and his wife raised a large family of eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons, and fourteen granddaughters. Eventually, the family was captured, and the whole lot was brutally and unjustifiably tortured and executed without trial. Since his death in the early 17th century, Beane has reformed his ways and now confines his atrocities to his literary endeavours.
WARNING: This story contains scenes of consensual snuff and gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This one has a similar situation to Tasty Kate's (SB#22) and I think is somewhat better executed. Chapter I is notable for its use of the sushi girl. Chapter II represents my first foray into the interesting and traditionally misunderstood holiday-the American Thanksgiving. Chapter III was something of an afterthought, but I think works ok. This story involves quite a few images that I am very fond of, but I won't describe them further since that would ruin the story.
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I
On Friday at 5:00 pm, the first night of the cruise, a special ceremony took place even before the ship left the harbour. When all of the passengers had assembled in the ship's main dining hall, the lights were dimmed, and a deep dignified announcer's voice began the short presentation: "Attention all patrons of Cannibal Cruise Lines! Now's the moment you've been waiting for: the introduction of the lovely ladies for whom our cruises are renowned, the reason most of you have chosen to join us. But first, allow me the pleasure of introducing the man who will oversee the preparation of our most precious morsels, our master chef Monsieur Michel Montefort!"
The short blue curtains on the stage parted, and a dignified man in a tuxedo stepped into view. With a thin moustache and a refined appearance he accepted the crowd's accolades. In his late fifties, Mr. Montefort fully looked the part of a competent master chef. Everyone was impressed. Contrary to the expectations of many, when he spoke, there was no detectable trace of an accent.
"Thank you, thank you everyone. I'm pleased to be able to serve you the world's most sought-after dishes. That's why you're all here, isn't it? [wild cheer] OK, let's get down to business, and let's meet those culinary dream girls who have graciously agreed to serve as our bill of fare for the next ten days!
"Tomorrow evening's meal will be a Saturday night special. Please meet a pair of terrific twins, Misty and Samantha!" The curtain parted a bit farther, and two long-legged blondes paraded to centre stage. They wore identical blue bikinis and displayed themselves in a confident dance until the master chef stepped between their undulating bodies and put an arm around the shoulders of each grinning vixen. "I'll bet you can't wait to see these two fabulous bodies lightly seasoned and adorned with my very special and very secret sauce!" he announced with a smile. The women blushed as the crowd went wild. They stepped hand in hand to the left side of the stage as the chef moved on.
"On Sunday, you'll commune on the bodies and blood of a magnificent pair of holy relics...meet Jill and Carrie!" Two large-breasted sirens emerged and performed a jiggling dance in their orange bikinis until the master chef came between them. "They'll tempt your tummies when I'm done with them! They're both devoutly religious and have agreed to accept their heavenly reward for your pleasure...give them a big hand!" Jill and Carrie strode to the side of their predecessors as the crowd applauded.
"Monday we'll treat you to an ethnic delight you won't forget! Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome a couple of sumptuous Italian-Americans, Lucia and Jennifer!" Two dark-haired beauties emerged in yellow bikinis and performed the requisite dance display. "You won't forget these two after you've tasted them prepared with tomato sauce and served with garlic toast and a variety of pastas." The women smiled and stepped aside, even though Lucia possessed a repressed hatred for pasta.
"When we get to Tuesday, we'll show you what African-American women are really made of! Please welcome Danielle and Sheila!" The two black beauties, Danielle with very dark skin and short curly hair and Sheila with medium brown skin and longer hair, appeared in green bikinis. After their dance, the chef tantalized the crowd with a description of how they would be fried and served with side dishes fitting the tackiest stereotypical idea of an African-American cultural ethos. Such stereotypes were commonly employed on this ship full of WASP millionaires, but no one minded it much. After receiving enthusiastic applause, they took their places beside the pair of Italian girls.
The chef moved on, "Wednesday will be a joy for everyone, as we bring you a pair of fiery redheads! Let's hear it for Tiffany and Melissa!" Two women in red bikinis emerged from backstage and danced their seductive dance. Tiffany with auburn hair and Melissa with bright red hair were greeted with enthusiasm. "These two'll make your eyes water when you try them seasoned with habenero peppers and served flaming. A dessert of carrot cake will complement them, but your mouth may never recover!" Loud applause followed them across the stage.
"Thursday is the day when Cannibal Cruise Lines always commemorates the arrival in 1620 in Massachusetts of the Mayflower Pilgrims. Our Thanksgiving feast will include the traditional main course, which is guaranteed to please. Meet Alison and Maria!" The two women, Alison a Caucasian with long brown hair and fair skin and Maria an Hispanic beauty with long luxurious locks, appeared in purple bikinis and danced together. "You'll have a lot to be thankful for as these lovelies are served roasted and stuffed with my super-secret oyster dressing. Mashed potatoes with gravy and cranberry sauce will complete the banquet! Let's have another round of applause for Alison and Maria!" The two walked gracefully across the stage to stand beside the redheads amid showers of praise.
"TGIF will stand for Teenage Girls Ingested Friday as we serve up a pair of college students for your appreciation! Let me introduce eighteen-year-old Susan and nineteen-year-old Kimberly!" The young women appeared in white bikinis and danced their hearts out to an adoring crowd. "Can you believe these two treats are both certified virgins? You'll get to give them their final oral exams as you savour their flesh sautéed in a special sauce. And, of course, the meal just wouldn't be complete if we didn't serve you their brains fried!" The girls joined the line to a symphony of chuckles and applause.
"On Saturday, you'll get a taste of alternative lifestyles as we serve up a couple of lesbian lovers! Justine and Felicia have been married for four years, and they're here by special invitation for your pleasure!" The couple arrived in pink bikinis and short hair. They held hands throughout their dance and seemed very attached to one another. "This San Francisco treat will be simmered to perfection and served on a bed of rice. Your taste buds will tingle!" The crowd cheered the secretly Iowan couple on as they reached the far right side of the stage.
"And, of course, the final meal will be Sunday night, when we bring you our special celebrity dinner! Your appetizer will be the lovely and talented Elizabeth Dorset!" A charming young woman in a silver bikini with medium-length blonde hair stepped forward to deafening applause. The master chef held her close and introduced her more fully after her brief dance. "Elizabeth appeared in several starring roles in community theatre productions in her hometown of Kansas City, Missouri before she made the journey to New York City to make it big! Since then, she's starred in a number of commercials and has had modelling appearances in Victoria's Secret catalogs! You'll love her even more in her latest role. Let's hear it for a most appetizing opening act!" Elizabeth stepped back to stand in the centre of the line between the ebony goddesses and the spicy redheads. The crowd followed her with enthusiastic applause.
The lights faded completely, and the master chef introduced the feature celebrity meal for Sunday night's feast. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, for all of those who saw Miss July 2016 in her stunning Playboy pictorial and wanted to take a bite of her then, your chance has finally come. We're going to barbecue her for you next Sunday. A big greeting now for Miss July 2016, the fabulous Barbara Steele!" An elegant brunette in a shimmering gold bikini appeared in a spotlight in the centre of the stage. Her stunning body was appreciated by all as she danced seductively around the stage. In her early thirties, she was still a vision to behold. "Miss Steele has also appeared in three action/adventure films in supporting roles. But her two favourite roles are playmate of the month and featured celebrity meal of the cruise! I'm sure you'll all enjoy this lovely lady." Everyone rose to their feet as the lights came up slightly and the aging playmate stepped with a wide smile on her tanned face to the side of the failed actress.
The master chef was not done. "Well, that accounts for all but one very important feast. I still haven't introduced you to the juicy morsels that you'll enjoy tonight. So, without further ado, let's meet our taste of the Orient, Reiko Miyazawa and Mei-Wan Huang!" Two long-haired Asian beauties appeared in black bikinis and stepped to centre stage. Miyazawa was a bit taller and thinner than Huang, who was distinguished by her golden-brown skin. As a result of massive doses of sedatives, their dance was a bit more sluggish than the others', but they were no less sexy. "We'll all be entertained and satiated when these two are prepared in the traditional Japanese manner!" Huang was actually of southern Chinese descent, but such subtleties were lost on an audience like this.
"Let's have a big round of applause for all of our fabulous ladies!" All of the women stepped forward to form a long line across the front of the stage as thunderous accolades acknowledged their great contribution. "I am pleased to present," shouted the master chef when the applause had died down, "this cruise's bill of fare!" Amid a renewed round of applause, all twenty of the women unfastened their bikinis and allowed both halves to drop to the ground at their feet. The short dance that followed was an impressive sight.
The announcer's voice took over for the master chef, "Ladies and Gentlemen, before we begin tonight's banquet, we need to get into a few procedural details. The women you see before you will be free to roam the ship at their will until their services are required in the kitchen. You will probably see many of them mingling with passengers around the ship. Feel free to talk to them. They are interesting people and would probably enjoy getting to know as many of their patrons as possible. They will be entirely nude save sandals for the rest of their lives, so it should be easy to recognize them.
"However, I would like to remind the men that you all signed the customer's agreement before boarding. This document states that sexual intercourse with the culinary women is strictly prohibited and provides for a very severe punishment for violators. That is, anyone caught fucking these women will have their external genitalia immediately removed without anaesthetic. This is not a joke and is fully approved by the U.S. Department of Justice. We've only had to do this once, but none of you wants to be number two, so please be responsible.
"Finally, I would like to assure you that all of the food on the ship has been approved by the FDA. These ladies have been rigorously screened and are the choicest available candidates. We are sure that they will meet with your approval, but any comments are welcome in the Captain's office. With that, I encourage you to enjoy this greatest of all cruises! There will be a fifteen minute intermission before we begin our first banquet, so please make yourselves comfortable." The lights came up, and the women stepped down from the stage. All but two of them began to mingle with the crowd and claimed unoccupied seats scattered throughout the hall. Those seated next to one of these nude visions considered themselves lucky.
When the room had been brought back to order after the intermission, the master chef took the stage and introduced the evening's five guest chefs. Four of these were well-known teppenyaki chefs, while the remaining one was a famous sushi preparer. Everyone cheered them. Then master chef Montefort brought timid Mei-Wan Huang to the stage. Despite the fact that her great grandparents had all been born in the United States, she spoke with a distinct Chinese accent. A voice coach had worked with her for weeks to perfect it. Huang gave her small speech in which she wished everyone a pleasant meal and expressed her satisfaction at being able to take part in a meal that would be the first such experience for the third or so of the passengers who were on their first Cannibal Cruise.
Mei-Wan remained standing at the edge of the stage next to the podium as the master chef returned to the microphone and turned the show over to Chef Yamazuki, the leader of the five Japanese cooks. The latter was a smiling old Oriental man with wrinkled skin and very few hairs on his head. He explained the nature of the meal preparation through his thick accent and frequent chuckles. He pointed out the large knives worn by the four teppenyaki chefs in strange holsters.
"These knife vely sharp," Yamazuki stated with a chuckle. He stepped to the side of Miss Huang, who stood with a rigid posture staring straight ahead at the rear of the hall. Her facial expression was one of suppressed nervousness, but she betrayed no unhappiness. "Watch crosly!" The chef placed the knife against Mei-Wan's abdomen with the blade pointing upwards. He rapidly pulled her right nipple with his left hand and gracefully slid the knife upwards. The girl's small breast dropped into his hand. The crowd gasped. Huang reacted to this but not until she saw her breast flying toward the small workstation prepared for the sushi chef. This indicated to everyone that she was reacting to the sight rather than to pain, which was completely obliterated by the drugs that had been administered to her. Her reaction was slight surprised alarm, but she quickly regained her composure and stared placidly into the audience.
"See?" laughed the Japanese chef, "I show you again." Mei-Wan Huang's remaining breast flew threw the air and landed in the centre of the sushi table. "Now we get down to business!"
Huang allowed herself to be led to a table just in front of the stage with a surface at about the same level as the stage. Four teppenyaki grills extended from the corners of the table, and the sushi station was situated between the table and the stage. Mei-Wan was placed on the table on her back. Her feet pointed toward the audience, and her head was just in front of the sushi station but facing away from it. The chefs each took their stations and adjusted the closest limb. Huang's legs were spread far apart, and her arms were extended toward the corners of the table. Yamazuki manned the station nearest her right foot and retained a lapel microphone through which he described each step of the process as it occurred. The audience crowded around for a better view.
The sushi chef set about converting the severed breasts on his table into nipple and breast tissue sashimi, while the four other chefs tied silk cords tightly around Mei-Wan's small upper thighs and around her armpits. Her limbs grew pale as the flow of blood was restricted. Two chefs took her hands tenderly as if in reassurance, while the others slipped off her sandals and grasped her feet.
"This the fun part!" warned Yamazuki just before four knives struck the table almost simultaneously. The severed limbs were rapidly transferred to the grills where the chefs diced them with graceful strokes of their knives. The crowd appreciated the artfulness as well as the gore. Huang seemed unreasonably complacent about the loss of nearly all of her arms and of her legs below the knees. Only a small amount of blood escaped, and she waited patiently for the chefs to move on.
The chefs threw Mei-Wan's hands and feet onto the sushi table when they had diced everything up to the wrist or ankle. The bones were stored beneath the workstations. Sushi rolls containing single joints of a finger or toe began to appear along with sashimi made of thin slices of the hand and foot flesh.
The two chefs nearest Huang's shoulders shaved the girl's head, while the remaining two removed and diced her thighs. She seemed to take more notice of the former. When this was done, assistants took the long black locks to be braided into several hundred little rope segments, which would serve as souvenirs for the diners.
Yamazuki explained the next operation carefully as the chef next to him extracted Huang's internal and external genitalia with a few deft strokes. Blood flowed in a torrent, and Mei-Wan Huang died without seeming to notice. The genitalia made their way to the sushi table to become uterus sashimi and ovary sushi rolls. Some of the most sought-after sushi pieces were formed from a small rod of pressed rice topped with a labium or with a strip of flesh with a thin row of pubic hair attached.
Meanwhile, the teppenyaki chefs attacked the corpse's shoulders and buttocks. When this was done, the chest cavity was ripped open. Two of the chefs converted the skeletal muscles of the torso into stir-fried meat, while the others extracted the internal organs. Some organs such as the heart, kidneys, and liver made their way to the sushi table, but others such as the intestines and stomach were sliced and mixed in with the rest of the stir-fry.
Soon, there was little left of the girl except for her head. This was passed to the sushi table with a few reverent words from the principal chef. The scalp, lips, and cheeks began to appear as sashimi, while sushi rolls filled with a bit of brain matter or nose, ear, or eyeball pieces were assembled. Yamazuki and his comrades prepared fried rice and stir-fried vegetables to be served with the meat. Everything was ready within an hour after Mei-Wan had taken her position on the cutting table.
Each of the three hundred and fifty passengers received a plate containing servings of fried rice, human flesh stir fried with vegetables in teriyaki sauce, and one piece of sushi or sashimi. Everyone had been given an opportunity before the meal to request their favourite type of sushi, but the most popular parts were necessarily distributed by lottery.
When everyone had been served, Montefort stepped to the podium and addressed the crowd. "I hope everyone is enjoying his or her meal!" Loud applause confirmed this. "OK, do you think you'll want more or should we just call it a day?" Laughter indicated that everyone was eagerly awaiting the second course. "Well, we do happen to have a second young lady waiting in the wings. Shall we ask her to come out and give us a taste?" Loud applause encouraged this suggestion. "I'm not surprised. In the whole history of Cannibal Cruise Lines, no scheduled meal has been turned down. We'll make sure all of you get to taste both women then. Allow me to introduce the lovely and willing Miss Reiko Miyazawa!"
Miyazawa took the podium with a confident smile and made a small speech before she allowed Yamazuki to slice off her breasts and place the rest of her body in position on the cutting block. She placidly accepted a fate identical to Huang's before her.
At the end of the meal, an announcement was made. "We hope you enjoyed this first meal of the cruise; weren't they fabulous? [thunderous applause] "We invite you to wish our two lovely twins, Misty and Samantha, a fond farewell." At this time the two women, who were seated together, stood to receive the applause of the guests. "In preparation for tomorrow evening's meal, Misty and Samantha will be hanged on the Festival Deck at 9:00 am. Be sure to enter your name in the raffle. Two lucky winners will have the honour of kicking the stools out from under their delicious feet." Misty and Samantha blushed at the renewed applause and sat down contentedly.
II
Alison Taylor did not fully understand death until Maria had been called into the room that everyone called the Doom Room. The week had been rather surreal for Alison. She'd thoroughly enjoyed herself and had attracted the attention of many wealthy men as she swam nude in the ship's large pool.
She remembered one of her more attractive admirers whom she had assaulted the previous night after her farewell speech and a mouth-scorching meal. She remembered wrapping her bare thighs around his waist and pressing her small breasts into his face while coyly quizzing him on his meal preferences for the following day. She had enjoyed his nervousness since she had far less to lose from the game than he did. How tortured he must have been as the desires she encouraged conflicted with his fear of emasculation!
But there was something of a dream to the whole thing, and the reality of her situation was not apparent to her until the girl she had been chatting with for nearly an hour was called away.
The two girls had been waiting together in the special bathing pool outside the Doom Room. Both had just finished a thorough final medical examination and had been declared fit for human consumption. During most of their tenure in the bathing pool, Maria had been soaped, scrubbed, and rinsed by a team of five skilled young women, who went about their business quietly. Alison and Maria had become quite good friends in their short acquaintance.
But then a woman in a white uniform had poked her head out of the door of the Doom Room and summoned Maria. The latter had hugged Alison and donned her sandals before calmly following the attendant into the Doom Room. Her friend's departure shattered her dream, and Alison suddenly saw everything very clearly. Something she had never really faced before loomed very near. The spectre of non-existence sent a shiver up her spine.
Alison and Maria were to play an important part in Thursday evening's re-creation of the first Thanksgiving, an event that Alison remembered well from her primary school education. The Pilgrims, upon reaching the New World, had made peace with the natives and had celebrated their first successful harvest with a spectacular feast. As every schoolchild in America knew, the Pilgrims had displayed their friendship by participating in the natives' cannibalistic traditions. The Indians and the Pilgrims each supplied one young virgin for the feast. History had forgotten the names of those heroines of history, but they were delicious by all accounts.
Alison remembered that in later times, the Pilgrims' weaker-minded descendants had ruined the festival by substituting turkeys as the main course in their yearly commemorations of the banquet. However, scholars of the generation before Alison's had uncovered the true origins of the Thanksgiving feast. And Cannibal Cruise Lines sought to reproduce it on Thursday evening of every cruise week.
Alison was assigned to play the part of the Pilgrim girl, and Maria would play the Indian maiden. Maria was not, strictly-speaking an American Indian at all. She was from an Hispanic family residing in Los Angeles. A real American Indian was not usually available for the Cannibal Cruise Line's Thanksgiving feasts because Native Americans were very rare, and most of them were unwilling to be consumed by white aristocrats. In fact, most respected Native American organizations went so far as to ludicrously deny that Native Americans had ever engaged in such cannibalistic traditions at all. Maria would play the part quite nicely.
Alison's initial terror at realizing that she would really not be alive for much longer was giving way to an uncanny sort of calm as the five-woman scrubbing team began their assault on her. After all, it was not as if she were doing this involuntarily. She had of her own free will sold her body to Cannibal Cruise Lines, Inc. for culinary use. She attempted conversation with her diligent cleaners, but they had little to say as they gently but thoroughly prepared her to meet the strict FDA guidelines.
After half an hour, Alison was left alone in the bath feeling cleaner than she had ever felt. She wondered if Maria still breathed. Alison was confused by her emotions. There was fear and nervousness, but these feelings had been largely replaced by a pleasant feeling of freedom. She was without responsibilities. The worries of a long uncertain future and the memories of a burdensome past were swept away and left a lightness in her head. All she had to do was follow directions for the last hour or so of her life. She was released from the weight of the future and could relax in the present. But the pleasantness of it all was itself confounding to her.
Alison waited in the soothing waters of the bath for some time before the white-clad attendant appeared at the fateful door with a pleasant smile on her face and Alison's name on her lips. Alison rose and dripped water all over the edge of the special bath as she stepped into the pair of sandals provided for her. She followed the cheerful woman into the Doom Room with her heart in her throat.
"Please sit here, dear," said the attendant indicating the spotlessly clean metal table in the centre of the room. "Dr. Morgan will be with you in a moment." The woman left after reassuring Alison in a cheerful voice.
Alone in the Doom Room, Alison looked around with curiosity. The table she sat on rested upon a bank of drawers of various sizes which were all locked. The wall opposite the entrance door was occupied by an enormous piece of equipment that radiated heat. A large window provided a view of its interior, but Alison could see nothing from where she sat. The wall to the left of the entrance was occupied by workbenches covered with various inscrutable objects. The opposite wall was occupied by two large silver platters, each about six feet long and sparklingly clean. Alison recognized these platters. Two identical doors were also located in this wall. The room looked much more like a medical examination room than a kitchen. Alison closed her eyes and laid back on the cool stainless steel table.
One of the doors opened a few minutes later, and a bearded man in his late twenties entered. He stepped rapidly to the side of Alison's table and, after kissing her hand gently, introduced himself as Dr. Morgan. He was really quite handsome, and Alison liked him immediately, but she was confused that the ship's master chef was not in attendance.
"That man couldn't boil water without detailed instructions," replied Dr. Morgan to her inquiry. "He's merely a figurehead. I'll be the one getting you ready for your big event if it doesn't distress you too much."
"No, no, I like you much better than him," she assured her personal chef. "I was just confused, that's all."
"I understand," he responded with an understanding smile. He was downright sexy.
"Why are you a doctor?"
"It always helps to have a basic medical training when you specialize in the type of food I prepare," he explained patiently.
"Oh," was all Alison could come up with.
"Please call me Tim if it pleases you," Morgan suggested with a smile, "but let's talk about you, my dear."
Alison noticed that her chef was carrying a laminated sheet of paper twelve inches long and ten inches wide. It was her data sheet, copies of which would be distributed to all of the diners at the Thanksgiving feast. Cannibal Cruise Lines' patrons usually collected these data sheets like trophies of all the women they had consumed. A large stack of data sheets was a sure sign of wealth and status.
One side of the data sheet was covered with photos. The left third of the page was occupied by a full length frontal nude shot of Alison, while the right third of the page sported a similar photo of Alison's posterior. The middle third was split into three equal parts. The centre showed a close-up of Alison's face. The upper photo was of Alison in a tiny purple bikini, and the lower photo showed Alison in a long elegant evening dress. All of the images were very flattering.
Dr. Morgan admired the pictures for a moment and complimented his patient. Then he flipped the sheet over and read the description on the back:
Name: Alison Monique Taylor
Hometown: Pittsburgh, PA
Born: 17 February 2002
Served: 20 July 2023
Race: Caucasian
Complexion: Fair
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Brown
Height: 170 cm
Weight: 57 kg
Measurements: 86 cm - 71 cm - 81 cm
Marital Status: never married
Occupation: Waitress
Education: High School Graduate
Religion: none/atheist
Favourite colour: blue
Parents: Alvin G. and Jean L. Taylor
Siblings: 2 brothers & 2 sisters, all younger
Hobbies: sex, reading mystery novels, jogging, and cooking
Reason for joining Cannibal Cruise Lines' culinary staff: financial and boredom
This was followed by a two paragraph biography of Alison's relatively uneventful life. Tim asked her about her reasons for enlisting for culinary duty. She explained that her parents had fallen on hard times and had been desperately in need of money. They had reluctantly accepted her offer to sell herself to Cannibal Cruise Lines. She said that she'd been thinking of doing this anyway since she'd had no particularly exciting plans for the rest of her life. This was not quite typical, but Dr. Morgan sensed her sincerity.
"Well," said Dr. Morgan, "we'd better get started. Are you ready?"
Alison nodded her assent and watched her handsome chef with slightly nervous anticipation.
"We usually allow at this point a few moments for prayer, but I see from your card that you probably won't be interested in that. Would you like a moment to collect your thoughts now before we get down to business?"
"No, I think I'm ready." She had carried her calmness from the bathing pool to the kitchen and possessed a peculiar peacefulness of mind.
Tim smiled soothingly. "OK, would you like me to explain what will happen or would you prefer not to know."
"Please explain; I'm very interested."
"Fine, what we'll need to do first is remove your breasts."
"Really?" Alison was a bit surprised. "Won't they be needed?"
"Yes, but you're going to be served on your belly, so they won't show as much as with most of the girls, who are served on their backs. We'll stuff your breasts with crab meat and serve them as a fabulous side dish."
Dr. Morgan showed a photograph of a woman lying on her stomach on a silver platter. She'd been roasted to perfection and was covered with golden-brown skin. Her hands were folded under her chin, and a large red apple rested in the girl's mouth. The legs were long and straight, and various garnishes, including most of her own internal organs, lined the sides of the dish.
"Can I see what my breasts will look like?"
Dr. Morgan considered this a moment. "I don't have a photograph, but I could show you what we did with Maria's." He left the room and returned with a pair of spheres just a bit smaller than volleyballs.
He handed one to Alison, and she felt the eerily smooth human skin covering it. She noticed a brown nipple on one side and the stitched seams directly opposite it. The other sphere had not been stitched closed yet, and Alison could see the layers of crab meat stuffed inside with the mammary tissues.
"These are fabulous baked," raved Dr. Morgan. "Maria had very large breasts, and they get quite a bit bigger when we stuff them. Yours are nice and small, so they'll probably end up close to the size of a large grapefruit."
Alison absorbed this unusual news silently and waited for the chef to continue.
"After we get that done, we need to make an incision in your abdomen in order to remove your internal organs. We'll take everything out and prepare each organ separately. Then we'll fill your chest cavity with the dressing. That's in the vat over there by the wall."
Alison looked across the room at the large clear plastic container. "Will it take so much? I didn't know I was that big."
"We put almost that much into Maria. There might be some left over, but it takes quite a bit."
"Oh, what happens after that?"
"Then all we have to do is sew you up, roll you over, pop you in the oven, and wait until you're perfectly done."
"Can I see Maria?" asked Alison.
"It's not recommended," replied Dr. Morgan.
"Please."
"I'll let you if you insist, but it might be unpleasant for you. She's right behind that window," said Dr. Morgan with a gesture toward the oven.
Alison hopped off the table and scurried up to the window. The sight beyond made Alison inhale sharply. Maria was there on a platter resting on the closer of two tracks. Like the girl in the picture, Maria's chin rested on her crossed hands, and her legs stretched far behind her. She looked very peaceful, and her skin had already started to take on the familiar golden-brown tinge. Her absence of breasts was not overly noticeable, but she seemed a bit fatter than Alison remembered her-the stuffing no doubt. Alison felt strange but was still not afraid. She returned to the steel table and removed her sandals as she resumed her horizontal position.
"Thank you, what do I have to do now?"
"First of all, could you open your mouth as wide as you can?" Alison complied. "Looks like you're about a size 8." Dr. Morgan opened a drawer which contained apples arranged by size and selected two nearly identical apples carefully. He tested his choice by sliding one into Alison's jaws and asking her to bite into it. The apple was too big to be comfortable, and it stretched Alison's mouth painfully. She thought for a moment that it would gag her, but Tim declared it a perfect fit and removed the fruit. The second apple was put aside for future use, while the used one with deep teeth marks was discarded.
"Would you prefer to sleep through this operation, or should I use just a local anaesthetic?"
"What did Maria choose?"
"She chose to sleep; most women get a bit uncomfortable if they see what's happening to them."
"I want to stay awake," said Alison with confidence.
"Somehow I thought you'd decide that way."
Dr. Morgan rang for the nurse, who arrived shortly thereafter with several syringes. The chef injected something into each of Alison's breasts as well as into her hip, shoulders, and abdomen. Morgan then used a straightedge and felt-tip marker to inscribe a thin black line along the centre of Alison's belly from the upper rim of her navel to the lower tip of her sternum.
"It will take a few minutes for the anaesthetic to take effect," said Dr. Morgan, "Is there anything you'd like to discuss while we wait?"
"Yes, tell me about the celebrities. Why do they choose to be cooked for Cannibal Cruise lines?"
"Well, usually our celebrities are ex-celebrities or nearly so. You yourself have lost the will to live. Imagine what would happen if your will to live depended upon your being famous and universally acclaimed. When they see their fame slipping away, they often choose to die spectacularly. They're making the most of what is important to them."
"Are they all like that?"
"Pretty much. The most famous person we every served on this ship gave us a lot of trouble. She was a child star in the early 1980s. Then she was a reasonably successful actress in the 1990s and 2000s. By the time we served her last year, she had not made a film in ten years, and her stardom was just a faint memory. She was 45 and wanted to leave the world as a celebrity. Unfortunately, one of the passengers was a movie producer, and he not only fell in love with her but also offered her a five film contract! She wanted to resign mid-cruise! Most of the women on the ship can be replaced in case of a change of heart, but the celebrity meals are advertised, and the passengers expect them, so we couldn't let her go. She tried to get a court injunction, but the judge said our contract was valid. There were lawyers flying back and forth all week by helicopter. But she was dignified in the end. She signed autographs all the way to the barbecue pit." Dr. Morgan smiled as if realizing that he was rambling on in his reminiscence. "Any other questions?"
"Yes, why don't you serve males on these cruises?"
"Well, most of our customers are male, and they prefer females. But these cruises are getting very popular. We always sell all of the tickets for our monthly cruises, and there's quite a long waiting list. We've had several requests for a male cruise, and we're planning on starting one in about three months. It will give the wives of all of our guests a chance to enjoy themselves even more. If that works out, we might eventually have male and female cruises every month."
The feeling in Alison's torso was gradually being replaced by a tingling sensation. She began to feel a bit lightheaded but did not lose consciousness. She was ready to begin.
Dr. Morgan had her sit up and hold her back as straight as possible. Alison was sort of vaguely aware as the chef pulled her left nipple far away from her chest. She saw this but strangely did not feel it. As her sluggish mind was just beginning to match the event to the earlier explanation of her fate, Alison noticed a small disembodied female breast on the table next to her. By the time she noticed the blood seeping out of her chest, a second breast had appeared on the table next to the first.
Alison felt Dr. Morgan lay her down on her back, and she looked up at the mirror attached to the ceiling. The thin bleeding woman in the overhead image was being attended to by Tim Morgan's quick hands. He was stitching the wounds shut with thread and skill. Soon, the girl above had stopped bleeding. After the nurse had washed the bloody chest with a sponge, the girl, who looked a lot like Alison, began to look fairly normal, except for the absence of breasts and two conspicuous diagonal seams in her chest.
Alison watched the mirror with rapt attention as Dr. Morgan touched the tip of a scalpel to the upper end of the line drawn on the girl's abdomen. Alison remembered that the chef had drawn a similar line on her own belly. Soon a six-inch long red line stretched from navel to breastbone.
"Alison, darling," purred Dr. Morgan soothingly, "everything is going perfectly. You'll be one of the best I've ever prepared. No one will be unhappy with you."
Alison wondered when Dr. Morgan would stop working on the girl in the mirror and start working on her. She gasped as she saw the chef pull the red line into a hole with his fingers. He inserted his whole hand into the girl's belly and gently pulled out a handful of intestines. Alison stared in amazement at this sight.
More and more intestines came out, then some other things Alison could not recognize. She noticed that her breathing was unusually shallow and rapid, and she felt a bit unusual when she inhaled. This was probably a result of the emotions she was feeling as she watched the strange girl's evisceration.
"Won't be long now, Alison, just relax." Dr. Morgan's voice sounded very far away. She took his comment to mean that he would soon finish with the strange girl and attend to her. A tingle of anticipation passed through her.
Dr. Morgan continued pulling things out of the girl in the mirror. There was something that might have been liver, then maybe a stomach, and then perhaps a uterus. Alison failed to notice that she had stopped breathing. Her mind began to sway back and forth. Her eyes dimmed, and more things came out of the girl in the mirror.
"Beautiful, Alison, you're doing just fine." Alison suddenly remembered how mirrors worked, and was on the verge of realizing the identity between herself and the disembowelled girl when Dr. Morgan pulled out something bloody and throbbing. Darkness collapsed around her, and Alison slipped into unconsciousness.
Dr. Morgan prepared the beautiful corpse to the best of his abilities, and slid it on its platter into the oven next to the Hispanic corpse of Maria. The pair sizzled deliciously all afternoon. That evening Maria was served well done, and Alison was served medium-rare. No one complained about the meal, and Tim Morgan, the only person outside of the main dining room who received a portion of the two women, honestly felt that it was one of the best meals he'd ever had the honour of preparing. He slept with an inexplicable sadness that night.
III
There was one room in the M.S. Ingestible that even Cannibal Cruise Lines' featured entrees knew nothing about. Deep within the lower decks near the bow of the infamous ship was the ship's casino. It was a high-stakes operation without pity and with a substantial cover charge. Only the wealthiest passengers could afford to frequent it, and few others were even aware it existed.
It was here that the humble Miss Stephanie Klein found herself. Like most of the casino's other hospitality girls, Stephanie was a retired prostitute. After seven years of watching the profits from her labours draining into court costs, makeup, jewellery, dresses, security, abortions, and bribes, Stephanie had realized that she had no future, no retirement, no hope of surviving her moderate physical attractiveness. She had given up renting, and had sold her body outright.
It was her second and last Cannibal cruise. It was that way with all the hospitality girls. She'd served drinks and hors d'oeuvres on the previous month's cruise. This month was her turn to be served.
Stephanie followed her partner, Mindy Campbell, into the casino at lunch time of the first Saturday of the cruise. Mindy wore a tiny black bikini, which matched her hair. It was entirely possible that Mindy's bikini was the same one Stephanie had worn the week before. This week, Stephanie was dressed much less revealingly in a floor-length black dress. The long slit and bare shoulders made it a sexy garment, but it covered most of Stephanie's assets. She followed Mindy, who carried a tray full of drinks.
The two women sauntered to the nearest blackjack table, where Mindy delivered several mixed drinks to the tuxedo-clad gamblers. Everyone looked up from his game to admire both the nearly-nude waitress and her companion.
As she had been instructed to do, Mindy put down her tray and addressed the gamblers. "Gentlemen, are any of you in the market this week? I have an excellent recommendation if you are."
Several of the men nodded their interest. Stephanie could feel their dark eyes searching up and down her dress, clawing at its folds in an effort to see deeper within. She bent her knee and watched the men's reactions as her long sleek leg was exposed.
"My companion is a candidate this week, and her name is Stephanie Klein. You won't find a finer morsel anywhere," continued the young and nervous Mindy. Stephanie dimly remembered being in a similar situation a month earlier.
The man nearest Stephanie reached out a hand. She shivered but managed to smile alluringly as his cold fingers rubbed the smooth curve of her shoulder. "She does seem very tender," the man said to his friends. Several others beckoned to Stephanie, and touched her shoulders as she stepped nearer.
"I'm sure you gentlemen want to see a lot more of Miss Klein, don't you?" said Mindy.
The first gambler dropped a hundred dollar bill on Mindy's tray, and looked over at Stephanie expectantly. The latter smiled and turned her back on the man nearest her, who took the hint and slowly unlaced the back of her dress. Several men made favourable comments as the velvety dorsal skin was uncovered. The dress slithered to the floor, and Stephanie turned around to confront the gamblers in only her lacy bra and panties.
"Satisfied so far?" asked Mindy with a conspiratorial smile. The gamblers nodded vigorously. Several of them rubbed their fingers along the curves of Stephanie's belly and whistled their approval.
"I'm ready for more," said Randall, an electronics tycoon from California, as he dropped a crisp pair of hundred dollar bills on Mindy's tray.
Stephanie smiled and walked around the table to the man. She did not hesitate to French kiss the tycoon as he undid the clasp on the back of her bra. When Stephanie stepped back from her patron, the bra slipped to the floor. Randall enjoyed the view and even got to touch Stephanie's exposed breasts. Several other men slapped down fifty-dollar bills for the privilege.
"I see you're all interested in my friend," said Mindy. "Who's ready to take the next step?"
"I am!" said Lawrence, a textile manufacturer from New England. He dropped five one hundred dollar bills on the tray.
Stephanie walked around the table to him the long way and strutted magnificently. Lawrence lost no time in removing her panties. He tore them in the process, but that was his problem since they were his property now. Stephanie shivered as the industrialist brushed his hand across her genitals.
"Well, gentlemen," stated Mindy in a business-like tone, "I do believe we've run out of clothes for our dear Miss Klein. Shall we start the bidding at $10,000?"
Lawrence gestured his bid.
Randall chimed right in with, "fifteen thousand."
Harold, who didn't really have a business-just a whole lot of money, immediately shouted, "twenty!"
Stephanie struck alluring poses throughout the bidding. Mindy chided the gamblers, "surely you can do better than that, gentlemen. My companion is worth much more."
Randall calmly stated his next bid, "thirty thousand."
Vincent, a movie producer, offered thirty-five thousand.
Lawrence bid forty thousand in a somewhat frantic tone.
Randall said quietly, "fifty thousand."
Lawrence shouted, "fifty-five."
Randall returned sixty thousand.
The bids were getting very high, but neither Randall nor Lawrence seemed ready to give in. Finally, Lawrence leaned across the table to Randall and said, "I'll split her with you."
Randall gazed at the subject of their negotiations thoughtfully and remarked, "She is quite a mouthful. I'll probably not finish her before the cruise ends anyway. Deal."
No one could top the sixty-five thousand dollar bid offered by Randall and Lawrence. Stephanie was sold for a higher price than any of the other four hospitality girls who all went for between twenty-five and fifty thousand dollars. She was justifiably proud of her accomplishment.
She sat between her two new owners for the rest of the afternoon as they gambled and gazed hungrily at their new property. Before they left for dinner both men insisted on taking her to one of the hospitality bedrooms and having sex with her one after the other. It was their right. Stephanie did not care much one way or the other, and the main deck rules did not apply in the casino.
Stephanie retired to the small room she shared with Mindy and slept soundly all evening and night.
Sunday morning, Stephanie found herself seated in the casino kitchen in the centre of a line of five hospitality girls. Each of them had been sold the previous day, and this was their first unfamiliar obligation.
All five women had their left arms inserted through a small hole in the metal wall beside them. All of them knew what was happening, but the anaesthetics prevented their feeling any pain as a result and the tourniquets around their armpits kept their blood from boiling. Still, Stephanie found it somewhat surreal to be sitting in a line of women all waiting for their left arms to cook.
When they walked out to the casino floor around eleven in the morning, each of the five women carried her incapacitated left arm in a sling-type thing. Otherwise, they were nude. The ladies' owners greeted them warmly as they approached the gambling tables.
All afternoon, Stephanie had to endure and pretend to enjoy Randall and Lawrence munching on her arm between rounds of blackjack. Periodically, a friend of one of the men would walk by and be greeted with a cordial, "You really must try this." Then the eager chap would accept the proffered limb and take a big bite out of Stephanie's forearm. Each time, the guest complimented her with a smile, and she smiled back with artificial contentedness. Not that she minded much, but it was a bizarre feeling.
By the time Randall and Lawrence left for dinner, nothing remained of Stephanie's arm except the bare bones, which the doctor in the kitchen was kind enough to saw off for her afterwards.
Monday was much like Sunday, but by dinnertime, Stephanie found herself lacking in arms. She stared disbelievingly at herself in the mirror for a long time that night. Of course, she could do nothing for herself. Mindy had to feed and bathe her. That didn't bother Stephanie all that much.
Tuesday morning found Stephanie and her comrades without arms sitting next to a different oven. Her left leg up to the mid-thigh was within the oven. The cooking took most of the morning, and around lunch time she was taken to her owners' blackjack table. She had to be strapped onto a sort of cart for Mindy to push since the roasted calf made walking impossible. As they had done for the past two days, Lawrence and Randall and any acquaintances that happened to wander by took bites out of her between blackjack rounds. Occasionally they chatted with her, but the conversation was always a bit awkward as they had to talk around mouthfuls of her succulent flesh.
Mindy just watched in silence and fetched drinks. Stephanie wondered what Mindy must be thinking about. Stephanie had had many vivid daydreams as she had witnessed the consumption of her partner, dear little Loni Stroud, the previous month.
Wednesday saw the loss of Stephanie's right calf and knee. On Thursday her left thigh was consumed nearly to the hip, and on Friday the same happened to her left thigh. This was certainly the most effective weight-loss plan Stephanie could imagine.
Friday morning before Stephanie was wheeled out to the casino's gambling area with her roasted thigh waiting to be devoured, she bid farewell to the four other women sharing her fate for the last time. She knew that in order for her torso to be ready for consumption over the weekend, she would have to be roasted on Saturday morning. That meant that she would have to be snuffed on Friday night. It was a terrible feeling but a pleasant one all the same.
Friday, after the last hand of blackjack had been dealt and just before Randall and Lawrence scurried off to have their dinner of college students, Stephanie's final moment arrived. She approached it calmly and allowed herself to be laid on her back on the Formica blackjack table. Mindy handed Randall the knife, and he held it with an experienced hand.
"You've been a great meal so far, Stephanie," Randall said with genuine emotion, "I'm sure the rest of your body will not disappoint us. Thank you, dear."
Lawrence had to have a say as well, "You're a damned fine delicacy. It's a shame there's only one of you." He said this with a coarseness that annoyed Stephanie.
Several thoughts raced through Stephanie's head. First, she thought that to finish her off in two days, the pair would require plenty of help. They probably wouldn't have trouble finding it. Second, she thought of the four other women on their backs on similar gambling tables about to breath their last either at the present moment or in the very recent past or very near future. She wondered what they were thinking about. Third, she thought about Mindy. Her comrade was standing near her staring with tears in her eyes. Stephanie suspected that the tears were more for Mindy herself a month hence than for the present victim. Finally, Stephanie thought about herself. She wondered if she'd made the right decision. Most of her said she had, but a nagging doubt made her nervous. In any case, it would all be a moot point in a few scant moments.
"I'm ready, gentlemen," Stephanie said promptly, "I hope you enjoy your meal as much as I've enjoyed serving you." That was something the cruise people had told her she should say on this occasion.
Randall dragged the knife across Stephanie's throat, and she felt the hot liquid bubble forth. She was aware of Randall pressing his lips to her neck and drinking the fluid of life. She saw Lawrence struggling to get his turn. He had just managed to touch his lips to her throat when she lost consciousness. "Drink up, drink up, it's a good thing we're doing," were Stephanie's last thoughts.