Posted by Sawney Beane on July 05, 2006 at 22:24:30:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #35
THE RETIREMENT PARTY
by Sawney Beane
14, 28 May 1996
1,652 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 gyno/androphagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is something different. Actually, there isn't much to it, but it does present an unusual ceremony for celebrating one's early retirement.
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"Why are we doing this, Charles?"
"Doing what, darling?"
"You know; the retirement party."
"Oh, don't worry, my dear; the party will be a big hit."
"Yes, I know, dear, but it's so expensive."
"There is that, but when you retire, you just must throw a party. To do otherwise would be uncouth."
"But, darling, why do you have to retire at all?"
"Oh, I've done my part, and now it's time to move on. I've built up a fabulously successful business, and we're filthy rich. Don't you want a change? Besides, I've trained Charles, Jr. to handle the business on his own. I should let him have the freedom he deserves. He'll be fine."
"I know he'll be fine, but I'm worried about us, darling."
The man looked musingly into his wife's beautiful blue eyes. "Dear, I didn't know you were so against doing this."
The still stunning forty-year-old woman nodded her head shyly, and a lock of blonde hair slipped from her shoulder to rest alluringly across her face.
Charles' face showed concern, and he questioned his wife further. "Emily, why didn't you bring this up earlier?"
"Charles, I knew how much you had your heart set on throwing a big party, and I just couldn't let you be disappointed."
"Emily, you mean you are doing all this just for me?"
Emily nodded her pretty head once again but resisted looking Charles in the eye.
"Oh, my darling, I wish I could hug you!"
Charles and Emily Proctor, the owners of the renowned Proctor Building Supplies chain of stores, were sitting together in their spacious sitting room waiting the call to dress for dinner. Oddly, the couple were passing their time in the nude. At forty, Emily's body did not impress as it had at age eighteen, but her large breasts and still-youthful figure would have drawn the attention of anyone present. Charles was still a good-looking man at age forty-five.
Both Charles and Emily were bereft of limbs, each of them having recently endured the quadruple amputations of their arms and legs. Drugs prevented pain, and Charles was all for the unusual chain of events he had set in motion, but Emily felt uncomfortable in her abbreviated state. She silently longed to have her arms and shapely legs back, but there was no turning back now.
Presently, a pair of servants arrived in the sitting room and, politely ignoring the masters' peculiar physical state, proceeded to lead the helpless couple through the process of dressing for dinner. The guests would be arriving shortly.
It was a big crowd. Charles and Emily greeted their guests from the comfort of their twin recliners. Charles wore his best tuxedo, specially modified for the occasion, and Emily wore a sleeveless blue dress with a daringly plunging neckline that displayed magnificently her ample bust. The skirts had been sewn up and tucked under, and a string of real pearls completed Emily's ensemble. For once she did not have to select matching shoes.
The mood was jovial, and everyone had a good time chatting until the servants announced that dinner was being served in the main dining room. Everyone filed in, while servants helped bring Charles and Emily to the table.
Charles sat at the head of the table, with most of the male guests clustered around him. Emily sat at the far end of the table near most of the female guests. Each of the hosts had a special servant assigned to help them eat. Charles and Emily chatted amicably with their friends and peers as salads and soups were served.
The Proctors introduced everyone present to their offspring. The only son, Charles, Jr., was a politely obsequious youth of twenty, while elder daughter, Anne, proved to be a stunning twenty-one year old with long blonde hair and a glittery evening gown who could carry on an animated conversation with the guests but conveyed a certain misgiving throughout the evening. The younger daughter, eighteen-year-old Monica, seemed nervous and uncomfortable throughout the proceedings. She struggled to keep up her end of the conversation. The other gathered guests were a conglomeration of gentlemen and ladies of upper middle class and comprised all the important people in the county.
A chorus of pleased exclamations rose from the sizeable crowd as the servants brought the main course on two large platters. Emily recoiled a bit as she recognized the cargo of the platter nearest her as being her husband's arms and legs, roasted to a steamy golden brown and arranged attractively. In the distance, she saw her own limbs similarly organized on a platter amidst the hungry men. Her vision blurred, and she almost lost her composure, but in respect for her husband's intentions, Emily persevered.
Servants distributed the portions to each guest. Emily watched as a servant delicately placed a female foot, her foot, on the plate of her beaming husband. Charles and Emily had had first choice, and Charles had selected Emily's shapely right foot. Emily did not make the same selection, as Charles' feet were less than appetizing. She had at first chosen a round steak from the thigh, thinking that the less recognizable her meal was the better. But Charles had insisted she choose something more distinctive, so she was served his left knee. She stared at it in disbelief but cooperated as her server presented a forkful of tender meat for her to taste.
A few moments later, all the women were commenting on how tasty Emily's husband was, and the men were all slapping Charles on the back and remarking that he'd netted himself a delicious little woman. It was difficult to endure, but Emily survived the dinner, staring at the tray of bones that remained at last. Dessert was an incredible custard, and Emily welcomed the opportunity to eat something normal again.
After dinner the party returned to the parlour, and Charles and Emily entertained the gathering with humorous stories and reminiscence until the guests began to drift out sometime after midnight.
When it was done, Emily and her husband were left alone. "Did you enjoy the party, my dearest?" Charles asked.
"Not really, darling, but I'm happy if you're happy."
"Oh, I'm as happy as can be," Charles replied with a dreamy sigh, "The party was a smashing success. They all said you were sumptuous, and you were." Charles' glee faded for a moment, "But, darling, you're not happy, and that's troubling me. I wish you had said something earlier. I wouldn't have made you do this against your will."
"I know, Charles, but you're as happy as a schoolboy, and that makes it all worth it." Emily wasn't sure whether or not that was a lie.
"I love you, Emily."
The loving couple were helped into bed and passed a pleasant, if awkward, night together.
"Is this going to hurt?" Emily asked feebly.
"Not at all, Mrs. Proctor, it's just like going to sleep," replied one of the white-coated caterers in a gentle voice. The full dozen caterers were in the Proctors' kitchen assisting with preparations for day 2 of the gala retirement party.
Emily and Charles had just returned from a difficult farewell meeting with their three children. It had gone uneventfully, the expected amount of tears being shed by the family members. It was strictly routine from the point of view of the caterers who were orchestrating the whole affair.
It wasn't yet noon, but Charles was already snoring on the counter to Emily's left. She was herself prone on her own kitchen counter, nude as the day she was born. She looked over at her sleeping husband with worry in her eyes, but there was no turning back now.
"OK, I'm ready, Niles." She smiled feebly at the caterer attending her. He gazed sympathetically at her and picked up the syringe. She barely felt the prick in her rump and soon felt an overpowering urge to nap. Her eyes drifted shut, and her breathing slowed from a nervous panting to a regular calm sleeping pattern. Consciousness left her gradually, and she hardly noticed when the wakefulness ended and the dreams began.
The second evening's banquet was different from the first night's but the same in many ways as well. The gathered guests complimented the hosts on everything possible, and no one could stop raving after the main course was brought in on two silver platters. Mrs. Emily Proctor's body adorned one of the platters, her internal organs extracted and arranged decoratively around her torso, which was stuffed with a delicious dressing. Charles similarly adorned the women's end of the table.
As with the first banquet, the women were served bits of Charles, and the men were treated to morsels of Emily. The only exception to this was the couple's children. Charles, Jr., now seated at the head of the table, found his father's heart on his plate, while Anne dined on her mother's heart at the opposite end of the table. Monica, immediately to Anne's right, was served her mother's uterus, and many men wished that the Proctors had had only one daughter.
Charles, Jr., was different today. He was moody and bored. He took the ceremony with faintly concealed disdain but ate his meal without complaint. Anne and Monica could barely see to eat through their tears, and the continual comments from the female guests around them regarding how delicious their father was did little to comfort them.
In the end, the party was a smashing success. Every guest went home with a full stomach and a deep appreciation of the Proctors' good taste. The children retired to sleep through the first night of their changed lives, and Charles and Emily Proctor rested in peace. It was the most wonderful retirement party the district had ever seen and remained so until Bill and Ellen Bradley threw an even more elaborate retirement bash two months later.