Posted by Sawney Beane on October 01, 2006 at 21:57:16:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #78
THE DECLINED INVITATION
by Sawney Beane
30 December 2000
(Idea 2/13/99)
2,637 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 concept is just one of those things that popped into my head, and the story is focused on a couple of vivid images I imagined.
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Jack popped the big question right after sex. Jack always waited until after sex to make big announcements. Trouble is, it wasn't the question I was hoping for.
It was about a month ago, and he rolled over and announced that his coming-of-age party was coming up and he would very much like it if I would participate. The euphemism was both common and unmistakable, but I was too blinded by my love for him and my hope for our future to see it.
"You want me to be your escort?" I asked excitedly. This was what I had been dreaming about for months. It was the first step towards his public acknowledgment of our love. Marriage couldn't be far behind if he was willing to show me off to his whole family. I had been hoping he would become bold enough to ignore the questionable nature of our love as well as the apprehensions of his relatives and begin our glorious life together.
He sighed gently and looked away as he replied. "No, darling, I want you to play a more central role."
My hopes fell like a meteorite. I saw my dreams burning up on re-entry to reality as I began to suspect the truth. Still, I wasn't going to be the first one to say it. "What role?"
He couldn't look me in the eye. That was a bad sign. "You'd be delicious; I'd be honoured to have you."
The pit of my stomach burst into flames, and I didn't know whether to explode with anger or to curl into a foetal position and cry as I clutched my burning belly and the horrible jumble of emotions it contained.
There were so many things racing through my tortured head. I was furious with the man I had loved so deeply for his cowardice, his unfaithfulness, and his disregard for my feelings. I was humiliated to realize that I could please him most on the sharp end of his fork, that I was worth more to him as a hunk of meat than as a companion. I was embarrassed that I had foolishly dared to believe that he, born of wealth and class as he was, would shirk convention and embrace a common girl as his soul mate. I was saddened to know that this, one way or another, signalled the end of our relationship. And most of all I was horrified at the image of my dead lifeless body roasted to a golden-brown and carved like a suckling pig. How could he believe I would ever consent to allowing my flesh to be consumed by a roomful of power-hungry aristocrats who despised me and everyone of my social standing? Unthinkable!
So I did nothing for a long time. I stared at a patch of peeling paint on the ceiling above me and tried to regain my senses. Then I became aware of my nakedness and was suddenly appalled that I allowed my body to be viewed by this monster. I grabbed my clothes and clumsily tried to cover myself. This man with whom I had only moments earlier shared a most intimate relationship and with whose gaze I was completely comfortable was suddenly transformed into a stranger from whom I must protect my modesty.
Now, me standing half clothed and him on his back in bed realizing that things were going wrong, I spoke broken and offended streams of words. "You! You! How could you even think I would...would...do that!"
"I just thought you might...."
"No, you don't know anything," I shouted.
"Mmm."
"Jack, how could you? We've talked so often about how we would get married and spend our lives together! What happened to that?"
"It was all fantasy," he replied staring at the floor. "You knew that."
"I did not! You said we would be together, that we would overcome all of the bullshit and be happy!"
"Yes, it made you happy to talk about it that way, and it was a nice dream, but surely you must see that it could never work?"
"Why the hell not? We're in love aren't we?"
"You're such a romantic. Jesse, for God's sake, you're a waitress! It just wouldn't work."
That infuriated me even more. I don't really consider myself a waitress. I am a journalism student, but I have to work in a local restaurant to pay my tuition bills. But that was actually the point he was making - that I had to work.
"You pig! Is that all I am to you? You're little college fuck toy? Is that it?"
"No, darling, I love you very much and I want to have you with me forever in the only practical way we can ever be together. That's why I asked you."
"Fuck off."
"It's OK if you don't want to do it. I'm sure Mara will jump at the chance."
Mara was an ex-girlfriend of his who had been relentlessly pursuing him ever since they broke up. She had also pursued me with considerable malice, and I considered her a pathetic creature wallowing in her own self-pity and longing for the man she could no longer have. Suddenly we didn't seem so far apart as I had believed.
"Yes, I'm sure she will," I said as I stormed out of the bedroom and stormed to the door to leave his posh apartment to return to my own humble but comforting home. I didn't speak to him for three weeks after that.
The coming-of-age party was a peculiar celebration unique to Jack's ultra-high class. Almost all 21-year-old men of his ilk had one. It was a combination of celebration, rite of passage, and opportunity for showing off one's prestige. Most of all it was a wedding announcement, since it signified a man's eligibility to wed. A suitable alliance was normally arranged and consummated within a year after the coming-of-age party.
The cannibal feast was closely linked with the coming-of-age party for several reasons. On the one hand, cannibal banquets were horribly expensive, so they gave an opportunity to make a good showing. In addition, there was an indisputable erotic element to feasting upon an attractive woman, which fit the occasion very well. Finally, it had become a convenient way to dispose of whatever embarrassingly low-class bird a man might have become entangled with at university. That was me, but unlike so many in my situation, I intended to make a good life without him and thus didn't feel a need to pack it in and become a feast.
Jack called me a week ago. After hanging up on him several times, I felt a bit mellower and allowed him to have his say. He said that he needed waitresses for his party and asked if I would be interested in joining in that capacity.
I hate myself for accepting the invitation, but the pay was terrific and much needed. Moreover, I still adored him and clung to my dream of marrying him one day, although by then I knew it would never happen. Still, I wanted to be there in whatever capacity I was allowed, provided that I would be able to return home afterwards with all of my limbs intact. So I accepted.
The party was today. I had to be at the banquet hall at eight o'clock this morning. I was immediately put to work in the kitchen mixing up a big batch of stuffing. I tried not to think about it too much. I was alone in a back room. There were several male chefs bustling back and forth between my little room and the larger main kitchen adjoining. When I finished my task I carried the big vat into the main kitchen and there I saw Mara for the first time.
She had been there for at least two hours before I arrived. The amount of cleaning required for making a woman fit for human consumption was staggering. By now, she was on her back in the big baking pan. She looked very content and smiled pleasantly at me as I arrived.
"Jessica! So glad to see you; you look great!"
I glanced at myself in the red bikini and apron. The waitress' costume for this event wasn't the most dignified outfit I'd ever worn, but at least it was flattering to me.
"Thanks, so do you." was all I could manage to say to this doomed vixen. I was shocked at her mood, both the pleasantness to me her mortal enemy and her seeming lack of concern with the killing, cooking, and eating part of her role in this party.
I had never thought too much of Mara's looks and had always wondered why Jack had dated her for over a year. Surely he could have done much better. But today she really did look stunning. Silver platter really must have been her colour. Mara was a redhead with pale skin. Now she seemed an alabaster goddess in her roasting dish. Maybe it was the three hours of preparation or maybe she had just willed herself to be gorgeous for this occasion, but she looked great. Her skin seemed inhuman and smooth, without imperfection. Her smallish breasts seemed all the more enticing as did her narrow waist and meaty thighs. Jack would be pleased with his feast.
"I hope you're not too angry with Jack," she said gently.
"No," I said noncommittally.
"I mean, we were together for a long time, so it makes sense that he would ask me instead of you. I hope you're not too angry with me either."
So he hadn't told her about my refusal. She believed that she was winning a great victory over me and could afford to be magnanimous to me the loser. I wasn't going to disillusion her now, however futile her victory really was.
"I understand." I said, and neither of us had much else to say to one another. The warm silently self-satisfied smile remained on her face, however.
I clearly believed that she and her situation was pathetic, but I couldn't shake a feeling of jealousy. Not that I wanted to be a stuffed bird, but it was just that she looked so good and was about to be united with the man I loved while I was doomed to leave him and try to resurrect my life. It just wasn't fair.
When I arrived, Mara had already had an enormous carrot stuffed up her arse and a fat ear of corn lodged deep in her cunt. Jack would eventually be eating these things at his party; they were supposed to be symbolic. There was a big red apple on the table next to her.
The head chef showed up shortly thereafter, and I stepped aside as he tried to put Mara at ease with his rich baritone voice. She was already pretty calm, but this did her in.
"OK, Miss Baker, are you ready to get serious?"
"Yes, I'm ready," she replied confidently, "Is Jack going to come and see me off?"
"No, I'm sorry, he's got a lot of preparation of his own to do, but don't worry about a thing. He'll see you in all your glory soon enough."
Mara was disappointed that her dream lover wasn't going to kiss her goodbye, but she put on a brave smile and indicated that she was eager to proceed.
"This will put you to sleep," he said as he injected her arm with a big hypodermic. "We'll take care of everything else. You'll be a masterpiece!"
Mara seemed happy as she drifted off to her final rest. The victorious smile remained on her face until one of the chef's assistants stuffed the apple in her mouth.
She was still alive. I could see her chest rising and falling slowly, but the apple in her mouth made her look well-done. The chef leapt into action faster than I expected. As soon as she was unconscious, his scalpel flashed and a red line appeared in a horseshoe shape across Mara's torso. The incision stretched from one side of her pelvis up alone the arch of her ribs and back down the other side. The chef then peeled her belly down to her thighs and began to scoop out her exposed entrails. Everything went into a big vat for further processing. Even her heart and lungs came out, at which point it finally occurred to me that this chef had just killed the girl.
When her body was pretty much a hollow carcass, the chef's assistant cleaned her insides out by spraying her with water and sucking it back out with a suction tube like they have at the dentist's.
After they were done, the chef turned to me and said "OK, baby, go ahead and stuff her."
I was appalled that they made me do it, but I dutifully stuffed handfuls of my dressing into Mara's empty belly. I wanted to stop when I had about half the vat in her, but they urged me to continue until my vat was empty and Mara was quite full. Then an assistant flipped her belly back up and sewed it back in place with big twine stitches.
Mara looked almost pregnant with her stuffed belly, but the assistant told me she'd get a lot thinner in the oven. In fact, they said ideally they would have liked to have even more stuffing to put in her, but she would be OK.
Finally, they rolled her over onto her belly and tossed a bunch of carrots and potatoes and a little bit of water and seasonings in the pan with her and stuffed the entire thing into an enormous oven. That was all for her; in a few hours, just as the guests were ready for their dinner, Mara would be thoroughly transformed into a gourmet meal.
The banquet went off fairly uneventfully. I had never been to such a thing so I was unsure how they were supposed to come off, but I didn't notice anything amiss. Everyone loved Mara and my stuffing. She did look considerably thinner once she had come out of the oven, maybe even a bit thinner than she had been in life. In any case, she looked great with her perfect alabaster skin turned to amber. The three other bikini-clad waitresses and myself were offered several bites of Mara, but I refused all of them. Some of the others partook, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.
After the feast, everyone went home happy, and Jack came back to the kitchen to talk to me as I was cleaning up. All the while he kept picking at and munching on the small bits of flesh that still clung to the bones on Mara's platter. It was all that remained of her, and I was appalled at the casualness of his snacking on what was left of his former lover, even if she had been my biggest rival.
"Great wasn't it?" he asked.
"I suppose."
He kissed me then, long and deep. I could smell Mara on his breath, but for once I didn't complain.
Afterwards he held me close and whispered in my ear, "My wedding was arranged today. I'll be married in nine months. She's a decent girl from a good family. I think we'll be happy." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
"Why are you telling me this," I replied rather crossly after what had appeared the beginning of reconciliation.
"I'll need someone for the wedding banquet. Are you interested?"
I didn't know whether to be furious or heartbroken at the moment, but nevertheless I didn't say no. Not right then anyway. I just kissed him once more and savoured the lingering taste of Mara on his tongue.