Posted by Sawney Beane on January 08, 2007 at 22:43:02:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #94
SURPRISE PARTY
by Sawney Beane
3,9 November 2002
2,863 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 gynophagia and androphagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Ah, silly oven romance!
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Fiona opened the door and welcomed me in. "Hello, Jack, I'm so glad you could make it," she said in a fluid British accent.
"I wouldn't miss one of your parties for the world," I replied cheerfully. Fiona, my true love's best friend, was a lovely girl and quite charming, but I had always had a slightly uneasy feeling around her. It seemed in the back of my mind likely that when I eventually came to the end of the line, Fiona would probably be driving the train. "Thanks for inviting me."
"Of course, dear, you are always welcome."
I looked around the immense living room and noticed a distinct lack of party. "Where is everyone?" I asked as nonchalantly as possible.
"The other guests won't be coming until later."
"Did I read the invitation wrong? I thought it was odd that the party started at 9:00 am. Perhaps it should have been pm?"
Fiona allowed herself a mild laugh. "No, Jack, you read your invitation right. Yours was different."
I dimly failed to understand her meaning, but handed her the bottle of Shiraz I had brought along.
"Oh, Jack, that is very nice, but you didn't have to bring wine."
"I wanted to bring something."
"Yes, but since you're already supplying the meat, you know..." she trailed off with a sly smile on her face.
I was nonplussed by this remark and wondered what I was missing. "Oh?" was all I could muster.
Then a few seconds later, "Oh!" Everything was clear in a moment, a terrible moment. My belly suddenly felt uncomfortably hollow.
Fiona savoured my realization, smiling victoriously. "Is there a problem?"
"Um...I don't think so."
"Good," she replied, "I mean, you don't mind do you?"
"Um...no, I guess not."
She smiled more broadly. I was approaching the end of the line, and Fiona was, indeed, driving. Sometimes my intuition is disturbingly correct.
"Anyway," she said with a smile, "this Shiraz will go very nicely with you!" She ushered me into the living room and removed my coat. She deposited the coat in the closet, and I had the worrisome thought that I would probably never see that garment again.
"Um...Fiona, is Isabela here?"
"Are you kidding? Of course she is. She's just getting ready in the next room. She has a very important role to play today. She'll be here soon. In the meantime, you'd better get undressed."
It was a strange offhanded command, but a command nonetheless. I loosened and removed my tie and started unbuttoning my shirt. I don't know why I obeyed such a command, knowing the implications. But with Fiona it seemed like you always just obeyed.
She watched me closely and smiled at my discomfort. She ordered me to fold my clothing neatly and pile it on a nearby chair. Before long, it was all there-jacket, tie, shirt, trousers, pants, socks, shoes, and even watch. All I had brought that wasn't either wine or me was on that chair now.
I stood rigidly in the entry hall, waiting for Fiona to give her next order. The room was a bit chilly, but Fiona's searing gaze kept me warm. I was embarrassed by my attentive penis, which apparently found something erotic in all of this. I felt more terrified than anything else.
Just then, my beloved Isabela appeared at Fiona's side. Now I was standing nude under the gaze of two British Amazons, the blonde Fiona wearing a very formal evening gown, and the lovely dark-haired Isabela wearing only a heavy white bathrobe and sandals. All of her familiar body was concealed except for a tantalizing bit of her calves. Her hair was wet, as if she had just come from the shower. I felt embarrassed and nervous and afraid and excited all at the same time. In all, it was not an entirely unpleasant feeling.
"Fi, were you going to keep him all to yourself?"
"Don't be silly, Isabela!" Fiona scolded her. "You know he's all yours."
"Until we get him in the oven that is!" added Isabela.
Fiona smiled, "True; very true."
I could remain silent no longer. "Izzy, darling, are you behind this?" I reached out for her, but she remained aloof.
Isabela smiled elusively. "No, Fi is the Head Chef here. I'm just her assistant." She paused for effect. "But, of course, the assistant gets to do all the hands-on work."
I smiled back. "Mmm...I'm glad to hear that." She finally yielded to my desire and allowed me to kiss her and hug her tightly. When Izzy was in my arms, absolutely anything was acceptable. Isabela slipped open her bathrobe and pressed her warm breasts against my trembling chest. I felt so much better almost instantly.
Fiona cleared her throat noisily. "I hate to break this up, kids, but we do have a schedule to keep." Isabela pulled herself from me and reluctantly snapped to attention. I waited for fate to come to me.
Fiona and Isabela led me into a large bathroom where they scrubbed me clean, bringing me up to rigorous food-grade standards. Then there was the matter of hair. I was not very hairy to begin with, but still I needed attention. Fiona gave the orders, but Isabela, who had discarded her bathrobe somewhere along the way, followed them. Isabela took an electric trimmer and neatly sheared my legs and arms, armpits, and finally my pubic hair. When she was done, I was covered in a fine stubble, and Isabela collected the bulk of my body hair in a plastic sack.
"What's that for?" I asked.
Fiona answered, "We'll collect it for you. It will go in your coffin with whatever is left of your bones after dinner."
"Coffin?"
"Yes," Fiona replied, "Isabela insisted that you deserved at least a proper burial."
"How considerate," I mumbled hoarsely.
But time was wasting, and I was overdue for the next step. Fiona led the way into the kitchen and ordered Isabela to position me on my back on the long cold marble counter. Isabela then began rubbing butter into my feet and ankles. The cool butter felt nice on my skin. When she had buttered me up to my knees, she took a razor and shaved the last of the stubble from my feet and calves. I looked down and watched as the smooth-skinned leg, shiny from the butter, somewhat feminine in appearance but with a not quite feminine shape, emerged under her attention. It was fascinating and surreal.
She continued in this way up my body. My thighs and rump were thoroughly depilated. Then my back and armpits, arms, chest, belly, and finally my sensitive genitals fell to this relentless assault. This last was not quite pleasant, even with the butter. But Isabela performed skilfully and did not injure me too badly. When all was done, I looked at myself, hairless below the neck. I looked like something other than I had been when I arrived. I knew then I was dangerously close to the end of my journey.
Isabela hosed me down to remove whatever hair remained on my body and then rubbed me from head to toe in another coat of butter. She next rubbed aromatic spices into every inch of my flesh. I was instructed to recline on my back in the middle of a large roasting pan. It was seven feet long and four feet wide and six inches deep. The bottom had a non-stick coating to protect my rump and shoulder blades from scorching. Considerate. For a while my duties were at an end.
Isabela spent the next hour or so chopping up vegetables. Fiona did not seem inclined to assist her, and I was not asked. The quartered potatoes and thickly sliced carrots began to join me in the roasting pan. Large slices of onions and other vegetables completed the stew. Isabela finished by filling the pan with water to a depth of about one inch. She sprinkled the whole dish with additional spices, which tickled my throat and threatened to make me sneeze.
Then Isabela stepped back to admire her work and seek approval from Fiona. I knew I was in trouble, but for the most part I was beyond caring. Isabela studied me carefully. I saw a hungry gleam in her eye, and ever-present love. I had also expected a hint of sorrow at this moment, but I saw nothing but joy, deeper than I'd ever seen in her. I was a bit offended that she would not grieve the passing of her loyal love, but at the same time I was happy to be able to please her so.
"Isabela, dear," began Fiona thoughtfully. "I think we have a problem."
"What?" replied Isabela with sudden alarm, "Is there a problem with Jack?"
"Yes, he's not big enough."
"He's pretty big."
"Yes, but we have nearly one hundred guests, and he'll never feed them all."
"We'll have to make the portions smaller."
"Tsk, tsk, Isabela. You know I never skimp at my parties."
"Then we'll have to go to the store and pick up another pig. They had a few nice ones in there earlier in the week."
"No, Isabela, there isn't time."
"Well, there is one other possibility..."
"What?"
"Perhaps I could go with him."
"You? Would you? That would be perfect."
"Yes, I will."
I listened to this conversation, knowing that it was pre-planned and staged merely for my benefit. I realized why Isabela had not been grieving, and my doomed spirits were raised. When Isabela stepped closer and slipped off her sandals, I realized that she had been thoroughly prepared before I arrived. Her skin was not only clean; it positively sparkled. And her perfectly shaved pussy was a beautiful sight. She'd been my oven-mate all along.
I helped Isabela coat herself in butter and spices, and we cleared a space for her amongst the vegetables beside me. She reclined next to me with a broad smile on her face, and we lay side by side, hands clasped firmly together, awaiting the heat.
"Does Izzy get a casket too?" I asked.
"No, she'll share yours," replied Fiona. "We'll just toss all the bones and scraps in together."
Isabela and I liked the idea very much. Fiona announced, as she set the oven temperature, that she would check on us in half an hour. Then she slid the enormous steel roasting pan into the oven and closed the door. The heat at first was only mild, but Isabela and I knew this would not be the situation for long.
"Well, Izzy," I asked casually, "What should we do while we're waiting?"
"Do you have any ideas?"
I didn't answer, but with a splash of disrupted vegetables, rolled over onto her and slid my erect penis into her dripping pussy. I made love to her as never before, feeling both the odd sensations of my newly hairless body, and the searing heat beginning to envelop us. She moaned like there was no tomorrow, which was not far from the truth. I made passionate love to my doomed lover for as long as I could before collapsing in a panting heap on her heaving chest.
By the time Fiona opened the oven door to check on us, we had finished our last intercourse. My penis was still deep inside her, but neither of us was moving. Indeed, we had lost most of the sensation in those areas. We were both still alive, however, despite being slightly toasted. Our skin was taking on a golden brown colour that looked perfect on my lover.
Fiona pulled open the door and slid us out. She pretended to be disgusted by our pastime. "OK, break it up you two!" she ordered, forcibly rolling me onto my back.
Isabela immediately protested. "Fi, don't do that! I want him in me!"
"OK, fine," Fiona snapped back at her. "Have it your way." She grasped my penis firmly near the base. I just saw the knife in her other hand before it soared effortlessly through my abused genitals. Fiona had severed my penis and testicles, and this she immediately shoved roughly into Isabela's vagina. Isabela seemed as shocked as I was; perhaps it was an improvisation on Fiona's part.
There was remarkably little pain and blood. My penis had been cooked nearly all the way through already, but the shock at this dismemberment was considerable. No sooner had I regained my senses than there was another order from Fiona.
"Hold out your arm, Jack."
"Why?"
"I have to cut off your hand for the appetizers."
"Oh, OK," I replied. What else could I do? I raised a stiff arm, and she promptly sheared off my hand and wrist with a sharp carving knife. Again there was minimal pain, and only a trickle of blood from the mostly roasted wrist. When she was done, an inch of my arm bone extended beyond the end of my flesh. She likewise removed my other hand and both feet before treating her friend Isabela in a similar manner.
Afterwards, a row of four hands and four feet were arranged on a silver platter. Fiona was making ladyfingers and other delicacies for appetizers.
Fiona admired our lost digits. "You both have lovely feet."
"Had," I remarked dryly.
Fiona smiled broadly, "Yes. Don't worry, the guests will love them."
But she wasn't done. Before I knew it, there was a sharp gutting knife piercing my belly in the centre just below the lower end of my breastbone. Fiona guided the knife around the arch of my ribs down to my pelvis. First one side and then the other side of my abdomen was thus abused. When it was done, she peeled the large flap of flesh down onto my legs, and I saw a horrific view of my own entrails.
"We'll clean these and use them to make sausages later," Fiona remarked as she began to drag large loops of my intestines out of me and into a large plastic pail. She clipped off both ends and left me a hollow shell as she proceeded to similarly disembowel my lovely Izzy.
When we were both helpless, gutted, hollow shells of meat, still living but just barely, Fiona began shovelling large spoonfuls of dressing into our gaping wounds. In a few minutes, we were both stuffed to overflowing with the dressing, and Fiona was busily patching up our bellies with coarse thread.
Now we were meat fully and completely. Isabela smiled at me, and I smiled back. This was the moment we had dreamt of for so long, and we both seemed to be enjoying it.
Fiona carefully basted us all over with the Jack and Izzy flavoured broth and began to slide us back into the oven before Isabela stopped her with an indignant exclamation. "Wait, don't forget."
"Oh, yes, sorry," replied Fiona as she set to work. She rolled Isabela and me up onto our sides and ran a thick leather strap around us under our armpits. She buckled and tightened the strap, which pressed Isabela's chest into mine, and our faces together. A similar strap secured our waists, nearly reuniting me with my lost genitals. Smaller straps around our thighs, knees, and ankles brought my legs between Isabela's. Finally, Fiona tied my exposed arm bones together behind Isabela's back and hers around me. This left us in an eternal hug. It was very comforting to face destiny in the arms of my love.
As a final finishing touch, probably Fiona's last-minute inspiration, she shoved two large carrots up Isabela's and my arses. There was nothing but a large reservoir of stuffing to resist the insertion, and neither of us really felt a thing. Fiona was sliding us back into the oven, and Isabela no longer protested. We both knew that we would be dead before Fiona came back to check on us in another half hour.
"Just think, Izzy," I said to her as we again felt the scorching heat of the oven. "By the end of the night, your body and mine will be blended together in the bellies of one hundred of Fiona's friends."
"Yes," Isabela smiled happily, "We'll be together for ever."
I cherished the sweet thought for a while before Isabela spoke up again. "Are you happy?"
"Yes, very," I replied, "only one regret."
Isabela smiled. "What's that?"
"I didn't get to find out how you taste, my darling."
"Go ahead," she said, wiggling her shoulder as well as she could.
I leaned even closer to her and dug my teeth into her partially roasted shoulder. Her delicious flavour filled me immediately. I knew why all the guests were eager to devour us. Naturally, Isabela was delicious, sweet, and tender. My love was renewed for her, and I was ready to face death with Isabela close to me. I persuaded her to take a nibble from my shoulder, and she smiled her approval.
The heat is almost unbearable now. I know we don't have long to go, but I also know we are both happy. The important thing is that we are together and always will be.