Posted by Sawney Beane on June 11, 2006 at 23:12:42:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #30
AT THE MANSION
by Sawney Beane
6-7 February 1996
4,070 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: Two portraits of girls throwing their lives away for the sake of cuisine. The second chapter was also largely inspired by a Dolcett drawing called DOLCET43.
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I. The Night Before
It's very difficult to describe how I feel right now. My emotions are probably as mixed as they've ever been in the twenty-two years of my life. It's all about what we have to do early tomorrow morning, and now it's nearly two in the morning and I can't sleep. I don't think I'm going to get much sleep ever again.
It's really nothing that I don't want. I mean I'm not here against my will or anything. I came to Hank and Phil's house of my own free will just because they promised to give me something that I've always wanted but that no one else could ever think of giving me.
You see, Hank and Phil are not ordinary guys. They live in this big mansion in California. But the thing that's odd about Hank and Phil is neither that they are independently wealthy nor that they're a happily pseudo-married gay couple. The unusual thing about Hank and Phil is that they eat nothing but girls. Well, that's not quite true. They eat salad and side dishes and vegetables and crisps, but the meat they eat at every meal was once a part of a young woman.
I don't know for sure how long they've been doing this, but as far as I know, all of the girls they've eaten have gone voluntarily or even eagerly to the slaughter. How, you might ask, do a couple of guys attract suicidal food-fetishist women to their doorstep? They advertise. They take out an advert in a magazine, and the candidates stream in at a modest rate.
They say that the flesh of a medium-sized woman will last them about a month. So these guys need twelve girls a year to satisfy their appetites. I don't know how often they go a month without anyone coming to feed them, but I was surprised to find out that there were so many women just waiting to be consumed (men too, but Hank and Phil say they've turned away all but the first such applicant because he wasn't very tasty). I suppose I should have expected it. After all, it's been a lifelong fantasy of mine to be devoured. Did I think I was so unique? Well, I certainly did feel alone in my fantasy as a child, but every time there was the merest hint of cannibalism on telly I snapped to attention. I just raved over horror movies, especially the kind with pretty young women getting eaten by monsters. Then I'd go home and imagine myself in those roles, running through the terminal scenes over and over again.
So I answered one of their adverts. At first it was just to check it out, but I wasn't doing anything much else with my life, and I still had that terrible fantasy. So, when I met them they won me over, and I agreed to become a feast. I'm not what I would call a gorgeous woman, but I can hold my own. My face is plain but pretty enough, and my long brown hair is admired within my family at least. I think the main thing these days is that I'm not too fat. Hank and Phil say they like a lean woman on their plates. You'd think that a big girl would supply more food, but fat just isn't very appetizing as anyone who's ever eaten a steak will tell you. So they thought I would make an admirable month of meals. Strangely, I take that as the best compliment I've ever received.
But there was one thing more. I've always had another fantasy. I've always wanted to taste human flesh. I know that is almost as bad as wanting to be eaten, but what can I do to control my fantasies? So, I asked them if I could taste one of their previous women before I took the plunge. It so happened that that month Hank and Phil were blessed with two serious applicants. I got there first, but I was soon followed by an absolutely gorgeous blonde girl. If I could look like anyone in the world, I'd like to look like Melissa. She had those enormous breasts that men just can't take their eyes off of (my own are a bit on the small side, but overall quite passable). Her makeup and hair were perfect; she was obviously a woman who took care of herself. She was tall, thin, and had flawless skin. After she arrived, Hank and Phil paid noticeably less attention to me.
Fortunately for me, Melissa had no interest in eating anyone and was even more eager to be food than I was. So, it was in everyone's best interests to do Melissa immediately and save me for the following month. Hank and Phil promised to be generous and share some of Melissa with me, and Melissa seemed fairly pleased by that arrangement as well. So it was decided.
Melissa stayed in the mansion for three days, and then early on a Saturday morning around 6:00 am, Hank and Phil woke up Melissa and me, and we began her big day. Of course we had to get her ready for an hour or two beforehand. I helped her take a very thorough shower and all of that. Then we walked into the dining room where Hank and Phil were waiting for us. By Hank's request, neither Melissa nor I had a stitch of clothing on. I was barefoot, but we had sandals on Melissa for obvious reasons. I'm naturally a shy person, but I got used to the nudity fairly quickly. When you're on the verge of becoming meat, exposing your tits becomes remarkably trivial.
Maybe I should tell you a little about Hank and Phil. Both of them are fairly nice guys, not the kind of guys you'd expect to see killing and eating people. Hank is definitely the leader. Phil's always busy getting things ready, and I don't think he's said five sentences to me in the month I've been here. Hank is quite the opposite. He never seems to be doing any of the work, but he's talking all the time about it. Today he and Phil looked extremely happy, like children on Christmas morning.
When Melissa and I entered the dining room, it was different. Phil had draped white sheets (somewhat blood-stained ones) over all the expensive furnishings, and the room had an eerie whiteness that it had never had before. Nothing seemed to faze Melissa; she accepted a peck on the cheek from each of her murderers and took her position on her back on the table.
She looked up at the chandelier with an elated, almost intoxicated, grin and stretched her arms and legs as far as they could reach. Phil secured her wrists and ankles in the straps that had been clamped to the corners of the table. She was spread-eagled and helpless, but that seemed to be how she wanted to be. Then it got serious.
Hank injected Melissa with some sort of anaesthetic, and in no time she had no feeling in her belly. Phil pulled out a scalpel with a shiny silver blade that gleamed in the well-lit room and produced a gasp of excitement from Melissa. I stared on with a sort of morbid curiosity as Phil opened Melissa up with the knife, while Hank chatted her up like nothing of import was happening to her.
Phil started the incision just at the base of Melissa's breastbone, and the first trickle of crimson blood as he gently inserted the point of the blade into her flesh made Melissa (and me) gasp again. Phil moved quickly but with expert dexterity and made a long curved cut along the right side of Melissa's prominently visible ribs down almost to the point of her pelvis. He returned to his starting point and made a similar incision along the left side of Melissa's body. When he was done, there was a large semi-circle of Melissa's belly that was attached to her along her waistline. Melissa and I just stared at this new development.
Hank and Phil worked together to gently peel Melissa's belly down until it rested inside-out over her genitals. We could all see Melissa's insides then, and it was an incredible sight. I was in charge of the plastic tub from then on, and Hank and Phil started pulling things out of Melissa. They worked quickly, and I watched in awe as my tub began to fill with intestines, liver, pancreas, bladder, kidneys, stomach, and uterus. They were reducing Melissa to essential functions. They removed things that one needs for long term survival like digestive tract and liver and reproductive organs. But they were very careful at the same time to avoid rupturing major blood vessels and left in Melissa's heart and lungs and the like. Basically she became quite roomy below her diaphragm. We saved all the internal organs because Hank said that some of the best meals come from those if you know how to prepare them.
Hank and I went to the kitchen and retrieved the big tub of bread stuffing Melissa and I had prepared the night before, and the three of us used it to relieve Melissa's inner emptiness. She found all of this quite entertaining, and I thought that, despite her recent loss of sex organs, she was on the verge of orgasm. When she was quite stuffed, Phil laced her back up with a coarse thread. When it was done, she wasn't quite as slim as she'd been before.
Phil unstrapped her wrists and ankles, we slid her off the table. Melissa thought she could walk to the kitchen, but Hank and Phil insisted on carrying her. They deposited her in the big glass roasting dish. It looked just like the thing I cooked my turkey in last Thanksgiving except it was enormous. I have no idea where they got it. So Melissa was just about ready for the oven, and she was in food fantasizer's heaven. Phil tied her wrists together in front of her and also tied her ankles together. This was just to keep her from thrashing about in the oven. Even the most dedicated meal has trouble controlling her reflexes inside the oven I'm told. Hank said his good-byes to the gorgeous snack and dropped the glass lid on top of her dish.
The dish and its cargo were on top of a wheeled cart, which Phil pushed out the back door and over to a long earthen oven built into the side of a small hill. Obviously, the oven in the kitchen wasn't going to be big enough, so this arrangement was necessary. The three of us slid Melissa's dish into the oven and closed the steel door. She went in feet first, and I saw the blissful look on her face as her lower extremities felt the raging heat.
Hank and Phil showed me that the oven had internal lights and a big double-paned observation window mounted in its top. So, we gathered above Melissa and watched her reactions to her roasting. Actually, I was surprised at how long she lasted. By the time the rapid rising and falling of her chest ceased, most of her skin was a nice golden brown and the seams in her belly were bulging slightly to reveal the stuffing within. She remained more or less in control of herself the whole time. Her limbs seemed to try to jerk now and then, but less so than you might expect. When it was over, Hank and Phil pulled her out and removed her lid. Steam floated up from her body, and Melissa emitted an appetizing aroma.
Hank cut a sample portion from one of her thighs and placed it on his tongue. He was soon moaning in ecstasy and saying that she was even tastier than she looked. Phil had a taste and gave a similar but more subdued reaction. Then they let me try Melissa. It was my first taste of human flesh, and I don't know quite how to describe it. The meat was unbelievably tender and juicy. It had a smooth flavour that was not quite like beef or pork or anything else I'd tried. But I enjoyed it immensely and couldn't wait for a full meal.
That evening, I was served a generously thick round steak that had once been the lower portion of one of Melissa's thighs. Hank was eating the dead girl's genitals, and Phil had part of a breast on his plate. We all enjoyed our dinners.
So I stayed in the mansion for another month. I served as their housekeeper, and I think they appreciated the help around the house. They ate Melissa every night. They wanted her to last a month still, so I didn't get as much of her as I would have liked, but Melissa was considerably bigger than most of Hank and Phil's "victims" so I had quite a few samples of her flesh to keep me contented.
So everything was going just fine until tonight, and overall I'm still happy with developments, but I hadn't realized that it would feel like this. No one who hasn't experienced this can ever fully understand it, and I'm not sure I can explain it properly. But, welcome as my demise will be, the knowledge that in a scant five hours my life will end is somewhat oppressive. The thought of certain death approaching is like looking over a cliff into a bottomless chasm. It's sort of like the feeling when your car is careening toward a massive lorry and you're sure you've bought it. Except that lasts only for a few seconds. Imagine having that feeling continuously for hours. That's how I feel.
But I'm not really having second thoughts. I want to be a feast. Hank and Phil have apparently cooked their women in a number of ways. Sometimes they roast them on spits, sometimes alive and sometimes killed beforehand. Sometimes they kill them and cut them to bits and cook the individual pieces. Sometimes they do what they did to Melissa. They asked me if I had a preference, and I chose Melissa's fate. So tomorrow morning at about eight o'clock, Phil will be slicing me open and getting ready to replace my guts with stuffing (which, incidentally, I had to make up all by myself this evening).
I'm not really afraid. It's just that the anticipation is somewhat painful. It just keeps my nerves on edge all night long until they finally do me in. Melissa never seemed this nervous, but I intend to endure those last few minutes just as she did. I, like Melissa, intend to be delicious.
II. At the End of Her Rope
"But I'm not sure I really want to die yet!" It had been a whirlwind morning for Amy: up early in the morning, scrubbed, polished, brushed, prodded, poked, and primped for two hours. Now it was barely eight o'clock in the morning, and she was being led to the fate she had been long awaiting with mixed emotions.
Hank sighed. "Amy, darling, just relax for fifteen more minutes and you'll never have to worry about anything again. You've come so far, you can't back out now."
Amy knew what that meant: "You've eaten my food, slept in my house, cost me untold money and trouble; if you think you're going to get off without carrying through your end of the bargain, you're crazy!"
"But I think I made a mistake," attempted Amy, knowing it was hopeless and too confused to know if she really wanted to succeed or not, "What if I made a mistake?"
"Here; talk to Linda; I have to go get the rope." Hank had been leading the nude brunette across the lawn behind the mansion. He deposited her next to a beautiful waiting blonde who looked down protectively upon the new arrival. Hank scurried off, eager to avoid the conversation.
"Linda, I don't think I want to do this," said Amy mournfully. She looked wonderingly at Linda's tall slim body. The latter was perched precariously upon a small stool with a noose around her neck. Her arms were tied behind her back, and she had to stand on the balls of her feet to keep from strangling on the taut rope. Shoulder-length blonde hair cascaded around the coarse rope of the noose. Amy was shocked at the disproportionately calm manner of her companion under these trying circumstances.
"Amy, honey, there's nothing to it. Just relax and let the guys do all the work. What do you have to worry about?"
"But we're going to die, Linda!"
"Yes, that's what we signed up for."
"But I didn't know it would be like this."
"Hank and Phil told us all about it when we arrived."
"I know, but I didn't think I would feel like this."
"How do you feel?"
"Like my insides are gone. I feel like there's nothing in my belly, and my chest is heavy. My legs are weak, and I see sparkly things all around you."
"You're just nervous. Just relax, and it will be over soon. Then you'll never have any worries ever again."
Amy made a sincere effort, but she looked up at the wooden beam three feet above Linda's head and noticed that it had two ropes hanging from it. One of them dangled unoccupied three feet to Linda's left. Beneath it, at Amy's feet, was a short stool like the one Linda was standing on. To make things worse, Amy couldn't help but notice the flaming fire pits a hundred feet or so further from the mansion than Linda's gallows. Two pairs of Y-shaped supports rose eerily from the ends of the pits, and Amy could almost see Linda and herself roasting side-by-side on the spits Phil was busily sharpening.
"But Linda, how can you be so calm?"
"Because I'm happy. Didn't you tell me two days ago how you've been fantasizing for years about being eaten? How you'd love to have a group of people chew you to bits?"
"Yes, but this is real! That's just a fantasy. This is the end!"
"Well, if you just wanted a fantasy, why did you come here in the first place?"
"I don't know. I'm confused. I want to be eaten, but I don't want to die, I think."
"Well, you have to choose one or the other, and this is the one you've chosen. There's no turning back now. Hank and Phil don't have anyone to replace you at the last minute, and the guests will be arriving any time."
Amy suddenly felt very young and naive. Linda was five years her senior and was far more experienced with Hank and Phil's banquets. She had just finished two years as a low-salaried servant in the mansion. Her duties had included helping out with the unusual banquets Hank and Phil threw for a few dozen intimate friends every so often as well as with Hank and Phil's own abnormal daily bill of fare. Now it was her turn to be the main course, and she thought twenty-eight years was just about as much as anyone should want to live.
Amy was only twenty-three and had been in the household for just a week. She had come to respect and follow Linda in that time. She'd come in response to an advertisement that had really struck her fancy. But she was now for the first time unsure whether or not she wanted her culinary fantasies to become reality.
"Amy, just look over there." Linda indicated as best she could the small group of men and women, early arrivals for the big party, who had gathered a few feet in front of the gallows to watch the show. "Just pick out the best looking man in that bunch and imagine him taking part of your body and placing it between his teeth. Start thinking about your fantasy, and you'll get through it."
Amy spotted a very muscular man near the front of the crowd. His longish blonde hair grazed his wide tanned shoulders. Amy chose him and imagined what it would be like for this hunk to take a bite out of her. At first she imagined the guy with a drumstick. He was holding Amy's calf severed just below the knee. He grasped it firmly by the ankle, her small foot brushing against his wrist, and took a huge bite out of the middle of the limb. There was no blood, only steam and tender meat. Amy groaned in pleasure.
Linda looked down and saw that her advice had worked. Amy's chest was flush, and her thighs quivered. Just then Hank returned with the rope.
"Sorry I took so long; are you ready now?"
"No, wait just a while," said Amy reflexively without coming out of her musings, but she held her wrists together behind her back nonetheless and did not object when Hank bound her hands securely. He followed this by taking another piece of rope and tying her elbows together behind her back. Linda looked on with a smile, but it was obvious that her feet were getting tired and she was getting impatient.
Meanwhile the muscular man had, in Amy's mind, politely requested and received permission to remove one of her shapely breasts. There was no pain, and the flesh was cooked by the time he got it to his mouth. He munched erotically and smiled conspiratorially at her.
Hank woke Amy from her dreaming and led her to step up onto the vacant stool. She complied unthinkingly and turned to face Linda. Hank was immediately engaged in looping the noose around Amy's slender neck, and she caught a glimpse of Phil behind her and off to the side with a pair of shiny steel spits in his hand. Amy shivered, and was forced to stand on tiptoe in order to breathe. She was suddenly afraid, but some of the pleasantness from her fantasy was still with her. Everything was dim and dreamlike to her now.
The crowd was quite large by now, but Amy could still see her hunk, and imagined that he looked into her eyes and licked his lips. Everything was fine.
Then a dreadful moment arose. Linda was falling. Hank had kicked away her stool saying, "Good bye, Linda, you're the best." The rope stretched a few inches, and Linda's smile at the last compliment of her life changed a bit as the noose tightened around her neck and her eyes began to bulge.
This was the worst part for Amy. Her dream world was snapped off, and she saw her friend falling to her death. It was a moment of clarity: Linda was dying before her eyes, and Amy herself was doomed. The emptiness in her stomach and the heaviness on her shoulders returned.
But this took no time at all. Scarcely had Linda reached the end of her rope by the time Hank took a step toward Amy and said "Well, my beautiful, it's time for you to go. Thanks for everything." Amy felt the wind beneath her feet, and she fell. The noose tightened around her throat and everything changed. Hank was just in front of her leering and ominous. Linda was there dangling next to her, her lithe body jerking at the end of its rope. When the rope swung around, Amy could see Phil with his spits, and a big toothy grin. She swung back and looked into the crowd.
Amy's eyes met those of her fantasy man, and suddenly things were better for her. Her fantasy was going to become reality, and it was good. Her mind once again imagined the man of her dreams chewing on her body. This time he had his teeth around her collarbone and was ripping off bits of her. She concentrated her entire mind on being delicious for his benefit. She thought of nothing else in the time she had remaining on Earth. She couldn't even see Linda any more. It was just her, him, and those shiny white teeth of his. She felt him chewing on her ribs as her breathless body finally lost consciousness. She was going to be the best meal he ever had.