The Carter Family Market
-an RP with Beth, adapted into 2nd-person fiction by Random Dragon
[2 / 3]
With your break over, you make your way back out to stand naked in the entrance of your family’s store. Things get into a flow and, in a macabre revelation, you become aware that you are selling the shit out of girlmeat right now! Customers grope and fondle, some more timid than others, some straight-up plunging your cunt, some with complete indifference to you -- even a select few who seem to find a weird thrill in having small talk with an honest-to-god human meat animal.
The rest of the day unfolds with few surprises until the crowd parts after Cody finishes one of his practiced pitches and your eyes widen as you realize who’s standing there.
You can’t help but shiver when you recognize your former biology teacher, staring unabashedly at your pussy with interest. He’d always been a bit of a creep and there were rumors about him being too friendly with students, but you’d never had a problem with him. There had been that one time you thought you’d caught him looking down your shirt as you sat in the front row, but you were never sure enough to form a negative judgment against him. The way he’s looking at you now, though, definitely gives you some creepy vibes.
“Miss Carter,” Mr. Bryant booms as he approaches you and your family with unnerving jocularity. “I was going to say I was surprised to see such a…promising young lady meet such a…pitiable end,” he smiles the smile of a jackal. “But I’m not. Looking back on you, your grades and your…assets…” he reaches out to confidently grasp your left breast in his hand, “…I struggle to conceive of any other fate for you.”
He keeps squeezing your left tit while his other hand sneaks around to get a nice handful of your right asscheek, forcing you into him close enough to feel your nipples against his button-up shirt and smell his cologne. While he casually fondles his former pupil, he nods over your shoulder.
“Mr. Carter,” he greets your father, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. “How’s the missus?”
“Oh great, great, she’s just wonderful, sir. She’s, uh, real proud of our prized piglet here! Thank you for asking. I’ll tell her you said ‘hi.”
Mr. Bryant pauses to study your face, looking for…what? Fear? Arousal? The betrayal of your scheme? Just before you start to get really nervous, he nods over your other shoulder in greeting.
“Cody, right? How are you, my boy?”
Your brother just smirks and shrugs, gesturing broadly to you and the store. “Oh, you know me, Mr. B, living the dream. Living the dream.”
Your former biology teacher smiles and makes a grunt of acknowledgement then locks eyes with you again as the hand on your rump starts to snake up and along your hip, inching sensuously to your hairless crotch.
“Do tell me, Beth,” he practically breathes at you, the barest tips of his fingers tracing along your labia, “how have you been? Did life turn out the way you wanted? As a plump roast for sale in your own family’s market? I still remember my classes with you…looking at your blatant cleavage, monitoring your thoroughly average GPA. It really is no wonder that you’re just meat a few years later. Best use for you by a mile, if you ask me.”
With that venomous conclusion, he digs two fingers into your pussy and — surprisingly — is not rough or cruel at all. Rather, his digits caress your clit like a passionate paramour. The rough grip on your tits and ass give you a clear idea of how this interaction is going to go, and you prepare yourself for rough groping and degradation.
Because of that, you’re caught off guard by the gentle strokes on the outline of your labia followed by the soft, teasing fingers seeking out your clit. You make an involuntary noise in the back of your throat but, being as close as you are to Mr. Bryant, you have no doubt that he heard you. No one has touched you there yet today -- except for the accidental brush of someone examining your hole or the overall look of the filet.
“Um, I — I guess I always knew that I was meant for something like this!” you say with false cheer. “Who needs good grades when I could be daydreaming about being served up as someone’s dinner, right?” Your grades weren’t that bad but you’re obviously not going to stand here and try to argue that moot point right now.
Mr. Bryant smiles at you, pressed so close against him, and you have a terrifying feeling of dread, like something horrific is going to happen to you if you indulge him any further. Despite all of this — or, god forbid, because of this — your body starts to falter under your former teacher’s ministrations. Once, he held your grades and your future in his hands. Now he holds your USDA prime filet in his hands, though the repercussions aren’t much different. This man has the authority to decide whether you move on to a rewarding career or end your life as a stupid fucking meatpig.
“Miss Carter,” your ex-teacher taunts you. “You seem to be incredibly wet for a meat animal on display. Am I mistaken, or were you always destined to be the pig roast you are today? I had a hunch — always wanted to know for sure.”
You don’t answer for a moment, breathing heavily as Mr. Bryant continues to work your pussy over with expert fingers.
“Yes,” you moan finally. “Yes, I was always meant to be a delicious roast! I guess you were right about me, Mr. B.” You try to keep your smile in place despite how humiliated you’re feeling having to talk like this…and how wet it’s making you. You can feel your cunt dripping over Mr. Bryant’s fingers and down your thighs.
“Meatgnnnmmmfff… — Meatgirls like me are willing and eager to roasted for someone’s dinner,” you say, talking fast and trying to stop yourself from moaning mid-sentence. “So — so if you want to order one -- AHH! -- my dad would be happy to help you out, sir.”
Mr. Bryant continues to grope your tits and stroke your clit with zero repercussions, which makes him feel even more powerful than he already was. Your enthusiasm is infectious and he finds himself desiring a human longpig more than anything heretofore in his life. You also get the sense that he always had this sick desire as a teacher, but now he’s free to indulge in his passions since you’ve been reduced to nothing but a meat animal.
“Beth Carter, I want to hear you say it,” your former teacher moans, groping every inch of your exposed flesh. “You’re a meatgirl. You’re a longpig. You failed at life and now you’re nothing but a feast waiting for a fire.”
You’re not sure if you can even speak without moaning so you don’t answer at first, just breathing and trying to gather yourself.
“It’s true, sir, I’m just a…big ol’ slab of pork waiting to be stuffed and roasted,” you say, and despite your best efforts, there’s a moan in your voice when you say it. You give an involuntary thrust of your hips into Mr. Bryant’s fingers, ravenous for more, simultaneously feeling completely humiliated and wanting to stifle your reactions… but also feeling desperate, part of you wanting nothing more than to cum. To cum right now, and to cum hard.
Your dad looks a little uncomfortable, making a big show of rearranging the human meat brochures on the table, whereas big brother Cody casually pulls out his phone and starts recording his naked pig-sister getting stroked off by a man who used to teach her Biology.
“Beth,” your ex-teacher taunts you, intensifying his assault on your clit. “God, you were such a worthless, annoying girl. Nothing makes me happier than seeing you end up as the livestock you deserve to be,” he finishes, stroking your cheek while his other hand rubs earnestly against your mound, trying to make you cum screaming at the same moment you admit your role in this world, destined for roasting and the satiation and enjoyment of other (superior) people.
You can’t stop yourself from openly moaning as Mr. Bryant increases his assault on your soaking wet pussy. “Yeah, I deserve this,” you pant, grinding yourself shamelessly against his hand.
You can feel yourself getting hotter as your orgasm builds inside you. You hear the sound of your brother giving a low hum of appreciation and you turn your head to look at him. Your orgasm hits you at the exact same time you realize your brother has been recording the entire thing.
Mr. Bryant’s fingers find your swollen clitoris and they are teasingly effective. This powerful authority figure from your past is squeezing you close in the presence of Cody and Dad and a dozen other shoppers, and nobody cares. At best, a couple passersby stop to watch the naked pig (you) get manhandled by Mr. Bryant — a well-liked community figure — before continuing on their way.
Just then, you burst and moan, cumming hard under the fluorescent lights and gaze of the crowd. Caught on film, you cum with a loud guttural moan that attracts the attention of dozens of shoppers.
“My my my, I didn’t think a piggy could pop like this,” Mr. Bryant chuckles, his pants bulging. He’s clearly enjoying the fact that his worthless former student just grinded herself off on his fingers to the thought of being nothing but a deserving pig. As you bite your lip and try to compose yourself, suddenly very aware of how slick your thighs are, Cody just gives you a big thumbs-up and stops filming.
“Mr. Carter,” your teacher asks, withdrawing his fingers from your wet pussy and wiping them clean on your belly. “Please tell me this lusty little longpig is for sale!“
You stand there, panting and shaking, thighs soaked from your own pussy. You try to compose yourself, feeling humiliated. You can’t fucking believe you just orgasmed like that in front of everybody. The shoppers don’t seem to care beyond a mild interest but Cody seems way too enthusiastic about it and Dad looks very awkward and embarrassed.
“Oh, uh…sorry, no,” your father explains. “She’s already spoken for — gettin’ picked up Sunday night. So, yeah, no…can’t sell her to you, I’m afraid,” he shrugs helplessly.
“Damn,” Mr. Bryant says longingly. “Although I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the most willing meatslut I’ve ever known was snapped up so quickly.”
Mr. Bryant leans in and puts a hand around your shoulder, pulling you close, fondling one of your tits and whispers huskily directly into your ear. “I’m very glad to see you ended up right where you belong, Beth. I know whoever’s having you for dinner is in for the spectacle of a lifetime. All I can say is…” he pauses to kiss your neck, “…roast well, pig.”
You give a shudder when Mr. Bryant leaves a trail of little kisses up your neck to nibble on your ear. It almost feels more like he’s getting a little sample of your taste since he won’t be able to enjoy your whole roast.
You shut your eyes hard for a moment, trying to recover. “You’re going to delete that, right?” you ask Cody in a low, pointed tone. “I don’t even know why you thought it was okay to film that, you…you prick!”
Cody just rolls his eyes and winks at you. “Yep. Deleted.”
A moment later, your stomach is roughly pinched by a woman in a chic professional outfit. She continues pinching you in all sorts of places, trying to judge the fat content of your meat. “I work at the nearby senior living facility -- Last Call Living Center -- LCLC? And we were thinking about having a meatgirl like this for our big barbecue this year. I’m not so sure, though. Some of our residents have trouble chewing so the meat needs to be as tender as possible. Are there certain cuts of longpork or cooking methods that are better for that?”
Your dad clears his throat and tries to compose himself, having just watched his naked daughter moan like a porno whore while her meat got felt up. He struggles to find the words so Cody hops up helpfully and waltzes over.
“Yes, ma’am, we can help with that! Your tenderest cuts of meat are going to come from the breasts and the rump, although you’ve also got some good tender meat along the back, belly, and legs, especially if the longpig wasn’t particularly fit or trim. You’re looking for that good fat marbling.”
As he explains he gets handfuls of each part he’s talking about, showing you off to the woman like a prized pig (which, you realize, you are right now). Finishing up, Cody turns you around and pushes you forward slightly, grabbing your hips and pantomiming fucking you from behind.
“But the real key — and the real fun — is plenty of tenderization. Massage them, fuck them, beat them -- whatever sounds fun, y’know?”
You shiver as Cody grabs each part of you, still feeling oversensitive from your orgasm. The feeling of your own brother giving your breasts and rump a rough grope and jiggle should not be turning you on but your damned body is reacting. You stay quiet, breathing heavily and trying to calm yourself.
When Cody manhandles you into a pantomime of fucking, you startle, accidentally pressing yourself back against him like you’re actively trying to grind your ass against him.
The woman seems to be seriously considering the idea and can’t help but feel bad for the longpig she eventually buys. It’s possible they have a massage therapist on staff but you think it’s a lot more likely that they would let the staff and residents release any pent-up energy on the poor meatgirl.
“Very interesting,” she says. “I didn’t even think of that angle — stress relief, entertainment and dinner all in one! I think it would be worth trying at least once.”
She goes over to grab a brochure and talk to your dad for a bit after thanking you sweetly for the demonstration, leaving you with Cody who just leers at you with a grin.
“You came pretty hard for Mr. Professor back there,” he gloats. “If this is such a terrifying and embarrassing debacle for you, why are your nipples so hard? Why do you look so hot and bothered? And seriously…how are you so fucking wet, Beth? Oh my god, you’re supposed to be a scared little longpig but you’re over here cumming and moaning like a porn star.”
You flush beet red. “It’s not like that!” you insist. “That was humiliating so stop teasing me about it! He just…he was really good with his hands and was determined to try to make me embarrass myself in public. I’m supposed to be a willing meatgirl, right? What else was I supposed to do? And I can’t believe you fucking recorded me wh--”
“Beth!?” you hear a shocked voice shout your name. You turn to see Kate, your best friend from high school, looking confused and horrified. She numbly makes her way over to you and says into her phone, “I’ll call you back” and pockets it.
“B-Beth?” she asks, obviously knowing it’s you but assuming or hoping this is some weird prank or misunderstanding. “What’s…going on here?” she finally lets out a nervous chuckle, grasping for something rational. “Is this what you meant by a ‘weirdly exciting’ weekend? Is this, like, some family promo or…?”
Some other customers that slowed down to check you out move on quickly when they see someone having an earnest conversation with the longpig. It’s just weird, you know?
“I… uh… it’s kind of a long story,” you say, knowing you can’t really explain while you’re standing here with other customers lingering around in earshot still reading the brochures and pamphlets. You want to say you’ll explain later but you can’t even say that without drawing suspicion.
“I just… I wanted to promote the meatgirl industry by challenging the stereotypes about terrified unwilling meatgirls. It’s a great way to serve your community by adding resources while cutting back on overpopulation at the same time. It’s a real passion of mine!” That’s a damn lie but you’ve heard Dad’s spiel so many times that you can sound convincing enough to any layman.
While your vegetarian friend has a brief twinkling of pride toward your supposed passion for community service and sustainability, there’s still no way she believes you.
“Beth, seriously, what the fuck?” she approaches you and puts her hands on your bare shoulders, glancing down at your nude body only because it’s hard not to. That’s when she sees your marked thigh and gives you an even more exasperated look.
“Seriously!? The tattoo and everything? So it’s already…too late? Beth…Christ…you’re going to die!”
“Calm down! I promise it’s not as bad as it looks,” you plead, knowing you can’t say much more. It would definitely be a bad idea to tell her the truth until after the weekend sale is completely over. You care about Kate but you also know Kate and there’s no way she’d keep this quiet.
She looks between Cody and your dad, whispering harshly. “How could you let her do this? What’s wrong with her?”
“Can you just trust me, Kate?” you plead. “Don’t make a big deal out of this. I promise, I’m an adult and I know what I’m doing.”
Kate looks really distraught but finally starts to calm down as you plead for her to do so.
“Beth, I don’t think this is you, okay? But I will respect your wishes. I just…I need to…I need to make some calls,” she turns and leaves quickly, shooting one last glance at you over her shoulder as she exits, her phone already out and dialing frantically.
“She looks good,” Cody says with a smirk.
“Good job, pumpkin,” your dad says from behind, giving you an even fuller and longer lingering pat on your rump that is becoming his sign of approval. “You could’ve blown everything right there but you kept your cool. Real proud of you.”
“I just hope she doesn’t try to pull some bullshit hero act later,” Cody muses, squinting at the doors where Kate exited. “Her kind are all the same.”
You spend another hour wrapping up the day as the sun goes down and the flow of customers thins to a trickle. Finally, about twenty minutes before closing, your dad decides it’s time to pack up for the evening.
“All right, pig—“ he hesitates after this Freudian slip. Cody has been cruel but you’ve been nothing but ‘Beth’ or ‘pumpkin’ to Dad…until now. “I mean, Beth, uh, baby…you can go take a shower, wash that tattoo off, get dressed and grab your things. I’ll give you a ride home once we’re all closed up.”
When you make it to the back office, finally completely alone for the first time in forever, you’re eager to take that shower and wash off this damn tattoo, but also curious to know what calls, texts, posts, or tags are waiting for you on your phone. It sits charging on Dad’s desk.
You resist the urge to check your phone at first, knowing Kate — and possibly some other friends from high school, if she’s told them — has probably sent you a bunch of shit. It’ll be difficult to look at anything without responding and trying to explain everything.
You take a shower first, giving your whole body an extra deep scrub to wash off the lingering touch of all of the people who had prodded your body like it was a delicious slab of meat. As usual, you try not to look at the butchering tables that dominate the room, the tools on the wall, or the empty meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes catch on the rows of small holding cages lined along the bottom of one wall. You’re suddenly grateful that your dad isn’t insisting that you spend the night in one of those.
Once you’re clean and dry, you wrap up in a robe and turn on your phone to your immediate regret. You feel sick to your stomach when you see pictures of your naked body posted across every single one of your social media accounts.
The word is definitely out about your supposed meatgirl status.
Your social media feed looks pretty normal all through yesterday and even through today until early afternoon. After that, all of a sudden, there’s more and more posts from more and more people, friends, and friends of friends tagging @BethCarter. The pictures, videos, and memes are already rolling in. Yes, there’s already a few cruel - albeit funny - memes. Some are lazy like just using a filter to put pig ears, a pig nose, and a curly tail on various shots of you. The most popular meme right now is the video of you cumming in public for Mr. Bryant but they’ve auto-tuned your orgasmic moan to sound like a pig squeal, then it freezes and turns black-and-white, zooming in on Mr. Bryant’s face with a poorly edited cigarette and sunglasses sliding down with the text “MAKES PIGS CUM — LIKE A BOSS”).
It dawns on you that people must’ve snuck dozens…hundreds?…of photos during your day of public display. You noticed a few people blatantly filming you but as you keep scrolling it’s just insane how many different shots and angles and times of day and crowd types there are. There are shots of your tits getting groped, pussy being plunged, rump being felt up like ham, you name it.
Your heart is racing but you try to bring yourself under control. Your mind is already racing, trying to plan how you’re going to explain to everyone that this was all an act, days from now when the coast is clear. Then you suddenly feel very hot and nauseous when you see the next post.
It’s a picture of a naked meatgirl standing in a grocery store (that’s you) with a weird, dumb look on their face — the photo was taken mid-sneeze!
—OMFGGGGGGGG IM SCREAMIN!! yall remember @BethCarter from high school? THIS DUMB BITCH A PIG NOW!!!!!! imma hit up her daddy’s market tomorrow n say HI — who’s in?
There’s at least half a dozen responses from various other girls, some you don’t know, some you recognize as the mean bitches from school.
-yassssssss C U there!
-Haha, you love to see it
-Wow, that was quick! I figured she’d be a pig someday but already? LMAO
A knock on the door startles you from your doom-scrolling and your father is leaning in the doorway, twirling his car keys.
“Ready to go, pi—pumpkin?”
“Dad!” you cry, jumping up and giving him a tight hug. You don’t even care about the way your robe has fallen open. He’s probably desensitized to your naked body after everything anyway, you figure. “Everyone knows about me being a longpig now! They’re posting all about it on social media!”
You open your phone to show him, scrolling through the edited photos of your face plastered onto pictures of pig roasts and stuffed turkeys or with pig features edited onto your own, videos of you being groped and handled like a piece of meat, and a few posts that just explained among a collage of pictures exactly what they wanted to do to you, pre- and post-roasting. One of the mean girls who had agreed to come tomorrow with Bianca had even posted a picture of her dog, letting you know that if your meat turned out to be too shitty and slutty for human consumption, you would still make good dog food, at least.
Your father seems mildly concerned but mostly just shrugs. “Kids can be cruel, Beth. Whaddya want? In three days it’ll all be some other stupid meme and nobody will care about this anymore. Come on, let’s go home.”
“Tomorrow’s going to be so much worse,” you whimper.
Your drive home is fairly awkward but uneventful. Dad thanks you for what you did today and says he hopes tomorrow goes okay. You just nod sullenly and the rest of the trip is silent.
When you arrive home, as soon as you walk through the door, your mother comes scuttling out of the kitchen. “Beth, baby! Oh my baby!” she exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug and rocking you back and forth. “I saw the posts online, baby. I’m so proud of you! This is the most amazing, selfless thing you could ever do for this family. I love you, baby, and I just know you’re going to be the best longpig ever!”
As mom gushes with untold love over your alleged decision to become meat for your family’s market, you can see Dad over her shoulder making a sheepish grimace but not saying anything beyond a soft “Yeah…”
“So?” Mom asks. “What did it take, huh? What finally convinced my little piggy to see who she really is?”
You’re thrown off guard by how excited Mom is about your new meat status. You look over at your dad, wishing he would be the one to elaborate. You know your mom can keep a secret, especially for the good of the family business, so you’re not sure why he's being evasive.
“Um, it’s not…” you trail off, feeling guilty for being the one to ruin her happiness and excitement. “It’s a long story. Maybe Dad can explain?” you say pointedly, shooting him a glare.
“Oh, well, uh,” your dad starts. “You see…we were talking, Beth and I. Beth and Cody and I. And we ran some numbers and they looked real good and, uh…Beth is very concerned about, uh, the environment? And…ethical practices and…yeah,” he nods in summation.
Your mother squeezes you in another hug and beams at you. “Oh, honey, I couldn’t be more proud! I just…I guess I had you figured wrong. I always thought you’d go off and waste your life on some gutter work…like a bar. But this!? This is just so amazing, hon! Your sweet little rump roast is going to put this family on the map!” She playfully slaps your rear then bids you to bed.
“Shoo, piggy, shoo!” Mom winks and giggles, already having fun with the new vernacular. “You can have one more night in your bed as a reward for your selflessness but as of tomorrow morning you’re a longpig, little miss — you understand? Now go on, git!”
Eventually the house settles down for the night, the lights go off, and the sounds of activity fade. Now…how are you going to sleep tonight, knowing (A) it’s apparently the last night your mother will allow you to sleep as a human being, (B) social media is still flooding with new posts and tags about you by the hour, and (C) you have to be up bright and early so you can go in and stand around naked again while everyone who mocked you in high school will be lined up to make your life more of a hell than it already is.
Sweet dreams, pig!
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
You try to rest but end up scrolling through social media for far longer than you intended to. That definitely doesn’t help your rest, as your dreams are haunted by vivid memories of the previous day and horrific images of the possibility the next day might hold.
You wake up in the early hours of the morning and freshen up, changing into a cute sundress that’ll be easy enough to take on and off. You don’t bother wearing a bra or underwear, not wanting to worry since you won’t be wearing them for most of the day anyway.
You tell yourself you’re ready, that it’s just one more day before the worst of this experience is over. You take a deep breath and go downstairs, mentally preparing yourself for the most macabre day of work you can imagine. You enter the kitchen where your parents are milling about.
“Ah, there’s our prized piggy princess!” Mom beams, though she instantly stops when she sees you in a robe. “Honey, come on, we talked about this. You’re a pig now — no clothes!”
“No, no, it’s uh, chilly out,” your dad defends you. “And I don’t want her, uh, getting her meat dirty so I told her to cover up until we get to market.”
Your mother rolls her eyes and shrugs, turning back to whatever she was doing in the sink. “Sure, sure, let’s put clothes on a pig. Let’s put a hat on a turkey! Why don’t we just put lingerie on a cow? It’s just going to make it harder for our piglet to come to terms with things. But you’re the expert, dear,” she says sarcastically.
Your dad decides to cut his losses with a “Yes dear” response before quickly ushering you into the car and off to Carter Family Market. Like yesterday, you shower in the back and then let Cody paint on the meat tattoo using a stencil. There’s still about fifteen minutes until Dad needs you out front. You’re full of nervous energy and not sure how to release it. Normally you would scroll through your phone but that’s not exactly the most reassuring activity right now.
You pull out your phone anyway, setting it to ‘Airplane Mode’ and sticking to mindless phone games, trying to relax.
This lasts for about five minutes before you give into temptation and turn Airplane Mode off and scroll through social media again. You’re horrified to see how popular the videos of Mr. Bryant making you cum like a squealing pig have become. People who don’t even know you are posting it, using it as encouragement to promote and use meatgirls. You have a bad feeling that people are going to recognize you for a long time to come from this video. You don’t want to be known as the squealing pig meatgirl forever.
You know you should tell your dad that you want to quit but his reaction from last night tells you he won’t have much sympathy. Besides, you’re already in way too deep. You’d alienate your whole family and your reputation is in ruins anyway -- might as well stick it out.
When the time comes, you remove the sundress and walk your naked meat-tattooed self out to the front where Dad and Cody are waiting. The brochures have been restocked, the TV is still flipping between ads and testimonials (now, Bob Dorfer, 31 - “Longpork is incredible! Everyone should try it at least once!”), and the slow trickle of customers of the morning shift commences.
About thirty minutes into the first demo shift of the day, a mature, well-dressed woman is walking by the display when she glances to the side and notices you. This freezes her in her tracks and draws her over to you with a smug superiority.
“Oh, look! If it isn’t the Lost Grapes girl!” she chuckles, referencing an embarrassing moment that comes back to you as she mocks you in a cruelly sarcastic tone. “wHeRe’S tHe ItEm CoDe FoR gRaPeS? dOeS aNyOnE kNoW? cAn SoMeOnE gO gEt My DaDdY?”
She shakes her head with a smirk then approaches you haughtily, looking between your father and brother.
“I see you finally made the right decision about your worthless screw-up of a daughter,” she tells your father, then turns to Cody as she begins to explore your naked belly and chest with her hands.
“And you, young man? I assume you helped in fostering the perfect pig she’s become?”
“Oh yeah, uh,” Cody shrugs. “We had her on cashier so she just sat around all day and we’d leave out any 86’ed snacks — chips, donuts, whatever — and let her go to town.”
“I can see that,” the woman agrees, running her hands up and under your tits, getting nice big handfuls and hoisting them up, tweaking your nipples a little harder than she probably needs to.
You flush in embarrassment, too shocked and upset to actually say anything. You remember her immediately -- how upset she'd been with you, how she’d rolled her eyes when your dad had to come all the way just to put in the code for her produce. At the time, she’d made some comment about how sad it was that even with your daddy running the store and nepotism working in your favor, the only job you could hang onto was a cashier position that you clearly weren’t even good at.
You give an undignified squeak as she roughly pinches your nipples. At the same time, Cody reaches over to jiggle your thigh, emphasizing the meat, implying that he was responsible for your juicy looking girth.
The woman ooh’s and aah’s as your brother eagerly showcases your assets, starting with your thick thighs before forcing you to turn around and bend over, giving her a nice view of your hams and filet. Cody kneads your buttflesh in little circles to show off your curated meat.
“You can see the marbling on the rump, moving up the back, with some leaner cuts near the shoulder blades,” he explains, running his hand along your back, keeping you bent over so Mean Grape Lady can spend some time groping and probing your rump and cunt, getting more of a feel than you think she deserves, but it’s clear that’s half the point for this woman. You fucked up and pissed her off so now she’s fondling your naked meat in public — that’s fair justice in her mind.
“Mr. Carter?” she asks your father, looking at him from over your protruding ass. “This pig has an exquisite rump — how would you suggest preparing it if I were to try it at home?”
“Well,” Dad answers, “I suppose for a rump like hers with a lot of good fat marbling and density, you’d want to tenderize it thoroughly. And you can’t go wrong with an overnight marinade if you’ve got the time. Oh! And I would highly suggest a lemon pepper rump roast, especially for meat like this,” he says, putting a hand on your head, still compliantly bent over. “You remember that lemon pepper chicken your mom used to make, Be— uh, pig? Deeeelicious, right? That would go real good with your rump, wouldn’t it, pig?” he pats your drooped head again, hoping you’ll confirm to this Karen how exactly to make your ass meat as delicious as possible.
You try not to squirm too much as the woman pinches and kneads painfully at your flesh, aware that at least half of her revenge lies in your discomfort. It’s hard, though, especially when your ass and cunt is awkwardly placed on full display for her.
“Uh— um, yes!” you stammer distractedly. “A lemon based marinade would really brighten up the natural flavor of the meat. Lemon pepper is a classic crowd-pleasing favorite, especially if you don’t mind your roast squirming in discomfort during marination and every time you baste. The end result will be worth it! Like my dad said, you’ll definitely want to focus on keeping the rump meat as soft and juicy as possible, so thorough tenderization and a long marinade are definitely ideal.”
Usually you wouldn’t even mention the longpig’s discomfort since most people don’t really care but you have a suspicion this lady might take some pleasure at the thought.
“Oh my, that would be just awful, wouldn’t it?” she teases you while her digits tease your labia. (God damn it, Beth, do not get wet for this woman!) “I would hate to see the poor animal suffer. I’m not the biggest fan of garlic though, and I just read an amazing recipe online for honey bourbon glazed rack of ribs? With the breasts attached? Oh, it sounds delightful and the pictures were…mmmmnnnff, to die for!”
The woman teases your flesh, paying special attention to your labia with her long fingers and you bite my lip, trying to avoid further humiliation by getting wet.
You don’t know which is worse: the way she’s touching you like a package of meat for the roaster, her degrading, sadistic words, or the fact that you’re going to end up moaning in front of her if she teases your pussy any more.
She withdraws her fingers and Cody lets you stand up, back to the bitch and facing your father, who is staring directly at your dangling boobs while he softly mutters to no one in particular, “Bourbon glazed…rack…” He snaps out of it and briefly makes eye contact with you before looking away. “Yes, that sounds excellent, ma’am. You’re a real connoisseur, I can see.” She nods politely in response.
“Yes, my late husband was very fond of longpork and it’s been a staple of our…my…diet since the day it was legalized. I’ve had it all,” she gloats. “Females, males, white, black, Asian, Hispanic — or is it Latinx now…? Anyway, I like to think I know my way around a longpig, Mr. Carter, and may I just say…”
She turns you around and gives your asscheek a couple playful but still quite forceful slaps.
“You have raised one of the finest specimens of longpork I’ve ever seen. It seemed such a dreadful waste of potential for this meat animal to pretend to be a human behind a cash register. Ugh, how ridiculous! But you are going to make a lot of…wait,” she glances at your father. “Has she been spoken for yet?” Your father just nods in response.
“Crap, of course he has. Well…” she leans in close enough for you to smell the cigarette she must’ve smoked on the way here. “I hope whoever's plate you end up on will appreciate the quality of your meat.” She leans in even closer and whispers in your ear, “I bet you remember the grape code when the heat hits you, you stupid sow.”
Then she pulls back with a big smile and nods to your father and brother. “You’ve more than piqued my interest, sir. I’ll let my friends with similar tastes know that Carter Family Market is the place to go for longpork.”
Luckily, after talking to your dad about a bourbon glazed rack, she seems ready to leave. It makes you uncomfortable the way your dad’s eyes keep drifting to your chest but you figure he’s just been inspired with some ideas for what to do with the longpig he inevitably picks for himself from the upcoming shipment. It’s not like he’s thinking about your breasts specifically -- you’re just the most convenient visual aid.
“Thanks for shopping at Carter Family Marker! Come again soon!” you tell the woman in a bright customer service voice, the same goodbye you had used as a cashier. You can’t be mean to her and you definitely don’t want to dissuade her business since she seems to be a major figure in the longpig hobbyist groups around town, so this is as close as you can get to letting her know that she hasn’t gotten to you.
“That was amazing, piglet!” your dad beams. “If she has half the clout she says she does, CFM could become the area’s undisputed hub for longpork!”
“Great job, sis,” Cody says, giving you a sarcastic thumbs-up while he scrolls through his phone. “I could really get used to meat that sells itself.”
Halfway through Day Two, a very strange, perverse sense of pride starts to swell inside you. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re a fake meatgirl who gets to go home safely when this is all over; perhaps you simply enjoy proving everyone wrong who said you would amount to nothing. But there’s a teeny-tiny part of you that is totally thriving on all the girlmeat you’re selling and how proud your father is of you because of it.
You look over at your dad and he’s studying you with an odd expression, both proud and disappointed? Respectful, but wistful? Thankful, but resentful? It’s hard to tell, and then he opens his mouth.
“Beth, I…” he pulls you closer so Cody can’t hear. “Beth, I can’t help but notice that you’re responding to…all of this…much differently than I thought you would. Are you just secretly one of the best salespeople I’ve ever met, or are you starting to…” he pauses for a long time, trying to find the right words until he settles with, “…starting to really feel like a pig?”
“Um, a little of both?” you respond, unsure of where he’s going with this. “I mean, I’ve always been pretty good at sales but even though most of this experience has been completely awful, there have been parts that have been kind of a confidence boost, I guess? And it’s a lot easier to sell a product that you believe in, right?”
You give your dad a small sad smile. “But don’t worry. I’m not planning on signing myself up to become meat for real after this. I’m looking forward to things going back to normal.”
He stares at you for a long silent moment before nodding. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, pumpkin.”
You go back to the usual grind for the next hour or so, letting random passersby grope and fondle your naked body while your father and brother eagerly comment on your meat (y’know, standard family stuff), and you feel like you should be due for a break soon when you hear a voice that makes your blood run cold.
“Oink oink, it’s Miss Piggy herself!” a familiar voice rings out, dripping with venom. Bianca walks through the entry doors accompanied by four other girls — all of them skinny, fashionably dressed, with flawless hair and makeup — and they make a beeline for you, one of them already holding up their phone to record you. The five girls — some you recognize, some you don’t — are all smirking at you in unison, arms crossed, hips out, like some glam fashion squad who have come to watch you die. The Cannibal Spice Girls, if you will.
“This is the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Bianca says as the group stops in front of you. “I’d ask how things have been going for you after high school but,” she pauses to push her nose into a pig’s facsimile. “I think it’s pretty obvious how things are going for the dumbest slut of the Class of 2015. We just wanted to come pay our respects before your fat fucking pig-ass snuffs it, Beth.”
You blush immediately, even though you’d been preparing yourself mentally, trying to figure out what to say when she and her posse eventually showed up.
“This isn’t the place for cruel jokes,” you insist, trying to sound calm but not really succeeding. “Obviously you can treat meatgirls however you want but we’re trying to foster a positive and educational environment here at CFM. We’re trying to shine a positive light on the human meat industry.”
You’ve been thinking so hard about what you were going to say that now you sound like you’re just reading off a script and it loses much of its effect. You don’t turn to look at either of them but you quietly hope either Cody or your dad will step in to agree with you and put some actual authority behind your words, since you know none of the girls will actually listen to you.
Bianca completely ignores your protestations, choosing instead to loudly explain your backstory. “So yeah, girls, this is the stupid hog that barely made it through high school. We called her the ‘Kiss of Beth’ because if you ever ended up on a team with her — kickball, dodgeball, softball, basketball, fucking badminton, didn’t matter — you were screwed because she sucked so hard she actually made everyone else around her worse.”
The girls laugh and at least half of them are holding up their phones now, some snapping or recording your nude blushing body, or furiously tapping out social media updates while they stand there. Finally you turn to ask why your family’s been silent but it’s just Cody standing there, arms crossed and grinning.
“Oh hey there, Hamlet,” he nods to you. “Two of the registers crashed so Dad and the IT guy are trying to fix them. Don’t let me stop you, though, you’re doing great. I liked your little speech. What was it you said? ‘…you can treat meatgirls however you want…’?” He shrugs and smirks, making it clear that it’s open season on his pig of a sister.
“Wow, she really took to her new role, huh?” one of the girls laughs.
“I know, right?” says another. “There’s no way you’d get my ass naked in a store—“
“Her dad’s store!” Bianca laughs.
“—my dad’s store, walking around talkin’ ‘bout, like, hey, eat me!”
They keep taking pictures and you can see them sharing when they get a particularly amusing shot, crowded around one phone and laughing in unison.
“You’re looking good, Stacy,” your brother smiles at one of the girls; you remember him always being kinda flirty and crushing on her. “Have you lost weight?”
“Haha, maybe a little,” Stacy blushes, playing with her hair. “I mean, I certainly didn’t gain as much weight as your sister…is she still your sister, or…? Do I just say ‘pig’ now or what?” she asks, genuinely confused.
Cody laughs and shrugs, giving Stacy a wink that she definitely catches. “Honestly, you can call her whatever the fuck you want at this point. It’s technically not even a ‘her’ anymore, if you read the laws.”
You immediately feel a flush of anxiety at Cody’s words. He seems much more interested in flirting with Stacy and looking cool in front of this group of girls than he does in defending you. When he throws out the ‘it’ pronoun, it makes your cheeks burn even redder. You try to tell yourself that he’s just trying to look smart and it doesn’t mean anything.
“This is supposed to be a fun and educational experience,” you repeat through gritted teeth, wishing Cody would notice that being surrounded by a flock of bitches who weren’t looking to buy isn’t going to do a damn thing for our sales numbers.
Then again, you have no idea what the sales figures even look like. Your dad had joked about your surprisingly excellent skills in sales. The Market might’ve already come close to selling out all of the meat girls in the delayed shipment, or at least come close. Maybe Cody doesn’t have a reason to push sales anymore, giving him a chance to flirt with the girls here at your expense.
“Oh, I think it’s plenty fun,” Cody smirks. “But you’re right, we could probably make this more…educational. Do you lovely ladies have any questions about the longpork industry or this particular pig right here?“ he asks, slapping your naked ass quite hard.
“So, on this pig that used to be Beth,” one of them starts with a giggle, “what would you say is the best cut of meat?”
“Honestly,” he answers, forcing you to turn around and bend over enough to show your hairless rump and cunt to the bullies. “Boom -- right here. Whoever buys this pig is going to end up with a fantastic rump roast and just look at that pussy filet,” he brags, squeezing your labia before giving your jiggly rump another slap.
You startle, jumping a little when Cody smacks his hand against your ass. The surprise makes it easy for him to turn you around and bend you over, putting your holes on display for the girls and their cameras.
“Did she really cum for Mr. Bryant?” Stacy asks and Cody lets you stand up as he laughs, nodding.
“Yeah, sure did. All he did was touch her and she fucking came all over him.”
“I told you the video was real!” she exclaims to one of the other girls.
“This is just poetic, Beth,” Bianca smirks at you, crossing her arms. “You always were nothing but a worthless pig and here you are, squealing and cumming and showing off your meat like a slut. You just absolutely don’t give a fuck anymore, do you? I’ve never seen a loser piece of shit give up as completely as you.”
“It — It wasn’t like that!” you stammer, standing up and turning back around, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to stop them from getting any more photos where your pussy is on full display. “I was being touched all day and Mr. Bryant was…— I don’t have to explain myself to you! It doesn’t matter!”
You don’t think you can physically blush any harder without bursting into flames. You desperately want to cover up or run away but you know you can’t. You keep praying that Cody will shut this down but he seems to be thriving on the attention.
“Whatever, pig,” Bianca rolls her eyes. “This is boring now.”
Stacy gets closer to Cody, touching his arm and smiling. “So you can do whatever you want to meatgirls, right? Does that include, you know…?”
“Fucking them?” Cody asks. “Yes.”
“Have you…?” she asks.
“Oh, uh, her? No, I haven’t fucked this particular pig.”
“Awwwwww, no? Don’t you get all pent up selling your sister’s meat all day?” she cooes at him, her hand traveling down his side and approaching his crotch where his jeans are visibly bulging. “I think you could use some relief, yeah? Why don’t you show us how to tenderize a longpig?”
“Uhh, sure, that sounds fun and educational!” Cody laughs and starts to unzip his pants. Stacy starts gently stroking his growing erection as soon as it appears.
You see the other girls giggle and pull out their phones, eager to be the first ones to post this new video of Beth’s adventures as a pigslut. They form a semi-circle around you so it’s not super obvious what’s going on, but anyone that comes close enough to grab a brochure will catch a glimpse of what’s going on.
“Open wide, meatslut,” Stacy teases you, her hand gripping and wagging your brother’s hard cock around. “Your brother works so hard - come show some appreciation. After all, if you came for Mr. Bryant, this should get you wet too, yeah? This is like a dream come true for you!”
Cody’s cock twitches in Stacy’s grip and the other four girls are all filming you now.
You start to relax when Bianca says this is getting boring, just enough so that when you catch on to what Stacy and your brother are doing, it’s too late.
“Cody!” you snap. “You can’t be serious about this!”
You back up, not wanting any part in degrading yourself on video again, especially if your brother’s hard cock is going to be involved. As soon as you’ve taken a couple steps back, though, Bianca gives you a hard shove back towards Cody and you slam up against him. You realize with embarrassment that it won’t be too difficult with the right angles — and they’ll have plenty to choose from — and a little editing, and it’ll look like you just threw yourself at your brother while he was getting a handjob from another girl.
“Hey Cody,” one of them asks. “If you were going to spitroast a longpig, how would you guarantee a smooth spitting with a high survival rate?”
Cody grabs you as you stumble into him and turns you around. He forces you to the ground on your hands and knees, slapping your ass and explaining for the girls’ video.
“Well, there’s still a lot of discussion in the industry on whether a vaginal or anal spitting is better — there are pros and cons to both — but I believe if you’re looking to get your pig over the fire while they’re still alive, you want to spit them in the ass. And no matter which hole you choose you really need to widen it quite a bit, especially leading up to the event to prevent it from closing back up.”
Bianca zooms in on your rump, helplessly displayed near your brother’s hard cock, and giggles. “Soooo, in layman’s terms, you gotta fuck them in the ass a whole bunch?”
“Not as eloquent as the brochures,” Cody laughs. “But basically, yes. Lots and lots of deep anal intercourse with the intended meat animal is recommended for a successful live spitting.”
“Well, let’s get the educational part going,” Stacy giggles. “Can you give us a demonstration?”
A moment later you feel a pair of legs kneel behind you, nudging your legs open wider, and a hot shaft begins to explore your buttcheeks.
You give an embarrassingly pig-like squeal as you’re pushed down onto your hands and knees. They won’t even have to edit your noises for that one!
One of the girls pushes your head down even lower so you’re face down, ass up, on full display. “She’s kind of cute like this,” the girl giggles, zooming in on the way Cody’s cock is teasing the rim of your asshole. “Like a slutty little animal begging for attention from her master’s cock before slaughtering day.”
“It’s not going to fit!” you blurt, reflexively tightening up out of fear. There’s no way Cody is actually going to go through with this, right? He’s just putting on a show to scare you and impress the girls.
‘NOPE, NOT JUST A SHOW!’ you think when you feel your cheeks part and the hard shaft enters your ass, filling you up the wrong way. Slow at first, he soon starts to speed his thrusting as Stacy urges him on, telling him how hard he works and how cute he is, how plunging his sister’s fat ass in public is the reward he deserves and the fate you deserve. Even worse, the girls continue to hold you down, one of them holding your head, one of them helping to spread your asscheeks wider for your brother’s cock, and two of them filming the whole ordeal.
You should really stop asking ‘how could this get any worse?’ because there really seems to be no horrific level these people aren’t willing to stoop to. Two days ago you were ringing out customers in your dumb little uniform, now you’re bare naked on your hands and knees in your family’s market, getting buttfucked by your brother while a band of bitchy bullies watch and laugh and cheer him on.
“Careful, Cody,” one of the girls filming teases. “You might make this slutty little pig cum again. She just can’t help herself!”
Cody seems to love having an excuse to show off as he fucks your ass, speeding up and rocking your body, making your tits swing with every thrust as you try to pull your head up, to no avail.
The girl holding your head down reaches around and plunges two fingers into your pussy, scissoring them while she thrusts in and out. “Yeah, she’s definitely starting to get wet! I think the little piggy really likes the idea of getting spit roasted on her brother’s cock!” she announces triumphantly before wiping her fingers across your face with a cruel giggle.
The teasing of your pussy and the way your brother’s cock is stretching out your hole, pressing into the sensitive places inside, are starting to seriously turn you on despite your best efforts.
“I — I don’t —“ you stammer, but you can’t think of anything that wouldn’t just incriminate you more as Cody continues pounding into you. You can understand now why he and Dad keep describing it as ‘tenderizing’ because that’s exactly what it feels like he’s doing to you.
The girls don’t even have to bother holding your head down as your arms give out, unable to hold you up anymore. Your ass remains upright at the perfect angle for Cody to fuck into while your upper half rests on the ground, tits splayed out under your body.
Your brother continues to pound your ass, spurred on by the gaggle of giggling girls and his own building passion. You have almost completely collapsed, able to do little more than try not to grunt too loud with each thrust and wait for him to cum, numbly suffering through this latest grotesque nightmare while people casually shop all around you. The pussy juice smeared across your face betrays the fact that, yes, Beth is indeed yet again getting aroused by her treatment as a meat animal.
“Fuck, she does look really good like this,” one of the girls filming comments. “It’s hard to imagine this hogslut, like, wearing clothes and going to school and stuff. I literally can’t picture her any other way than this.”
As you feel your brother’s cock start to swell inside your ass and your crotch feels wetter and wetter, you pray that things come to end soon. They do, but not the way you thought.
“CODY, JESUS CHRIST!” your father bellows, walking up to find his son balls-deep in his pig-daughter’s ass. “What the hell, man? Get up and put your fucking dick away!”
Cody quickly pulls out, thankfully having not left a load inside you, and pulls up his pants quickly with a muttered ‘sorry.’
“I’m so sorry, that was totally our fault, Mr. Carter,” Stacy offers helpfully. “Cody didn’t want to do it but we were asking about the proper way to tenderize a spitroast and, uh, we forced him to demonstrate for us.”
Your father doesn’t look like he’s buying it. Bianca speaks up.
“It was super fun and educational, sir!” she says. “We actually learned something and I think some of our parents are interested in longpork, and now we know the best place to shop is Carter Family Market.”
Dad rolls his eyes but the flattery from your cute, well-connected bully works like a charm. “Just start cleaning up,” he tells Cody then nods to the mean girls. “You ladies take care. We certainly appreciate your patronage.”
Now that Dad has broken up the fun, the girls give you another couple winks and giggles before they -- gratefully -- move on. Your father is looking down at you with deep disappointment, like you’re the one who chose to get buttfucked in public.
“Clean yourself up, pig,” he says coldly. “We’re closing up soon. Come find me when you’re ready to go home.”
You struggle to rise onto your hands and knees, your ass gaping slightly after the rough fucking Cody gave you.
“Dad,” you say, voice wavering on the verge of tears. “I didn’t — I wasn’t —“
You want to tell your father that you didn’t want any of that, or to go yell at Cody, but you don’t want to be overheard by anyone. If your scheme gets found out now, this whole thing will have been worthless. You wobble to your feet, stumbling forward as you try to get your balance. Your slick pussy juices drip noticeably from your cunt and you squeeze your legs together to try to hide it.
“Y-yeah,” you stammer, thoroughly flushed and humiliated. “I’ll go clean up.” You shoot Cody a dirty look as you trudge your way back to the showers.
You clean your body off in the back room showers, exhaling with ragged relief as you watch the fake meat tattoo blur, fade, and swirl down into the drain, leaving you looking like Beth again. After drying off and dressing, you check your phone. Unfortunately, it’s exactly what you expected — more photos, more videos, more memes.
At this point they’ve been shared and cross-posted across so many platforms that pretty much every single person you’ve ever known in your life has at least seen the “naked meatgirl Beth” posts, even if they haven’t actively commented on them with snide remarks or the very occasional concerned words saying they love you and asking if you’re okay.
You get in the car with Dad and the ride home is completely silent, at least from his end. He keeps his eyes on the road, wearing a sad expression. Desperate to kill the time, you pull out your phone again and notice a recent post from your friend Kate:
—Hey everyone, as you all know, there is a lot of shady stuff going on in the human meat industry, with opaque regulation and minimal reporting requirements. The recent article in the Springfield Times calling the human meat industry ‘the golden age of human trafficking’ is right!
—We’re told that these people VOLUNTEER for this, that they WANT to be horrifically murdered for others’ entertainment and enjoyment. This is the most laughable propaganda I’ve ever heard and I -- and dozens like me -- are DONE accepting this new normal.
—I will be organizing a protest tomorrow at Carter Family Market, with the support of Americans Against Cannibalism (@AAC)! Please come out and join me in loudly proclaiming — we are #PeopleNotPork
Well…shit. That doesn’t sound like it’s going to make Dad happy. Heart pounding and throat dry, you turn off your phone as Dad pulls into the driveway. He opens the door and, without looking at you, speaks to you for the first time in almost an hour.
You startle slightly, both at the suddenness of your father’s voice in the quiet and at his blunt tone, like he’s giving a command to a trained animal.
“Dad,” you plead, “what happened at the store wasn’t my fault. I’m really sorry if it caused a scene or whatever but those girls were egging Cody on and I didn’t want to act out since I was supposed to be a meatgirl…” you trail off, not sure what else to say. You want him to be sympathetic or at least to stop looking like he’s disappointed in you, or whatever the confusing expression he keeps giving you is supposed to mean.
You want to tell him about the protest but you feel like it will just make things worse if you bring it up now. Maybe you’ll find a better time to tell him tonight. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood tomorrow morning and you can tell him on the way to the store.
He just sighs and exits the vehicle, going inside. You fight back tears and compose yourself for a minute or two before working up the courage to walk through the front door. You can hear Cody and Mom chatting in the dining room and the clatter of plates and silverware. As you walk in, you see Cody setting the table for dinner while Mom sets out dishes of mashed potatoes, gravy, meatloaf and peas. You can’t help but notice there are only three places set at the table and one of the chairs is missing.
Your mother’s eyes light up when she notices you but, again, immediately frowns when she sees you clothed.
“Beth, baby, welcome home, but come on, I thought we went over this. You’re a piggy now and piggies don’t wear clothes!” Her tone leaves no room for argument, plus you’re just so exhausted from the day.
With a resigned nod, you start to remove your sundress just as Dad walks in and shouts, “Whoa whoa whoa, hold on, keep that on for now!”
“What? Why?” your mom asks. It dawns on you that you washed off your meat tattoo which will definitely raise questions.
“Because, uhhh…” Dad stammers.
“Because we had a really long day at work and now we’d just like to sit down and enjoy this delicious dinner while our piggy gets more in tune with her new role,” Cody interjects. “I’m all pent up and I could really go for a nice blowjob right now.”
“Exactly!” Dad says, sitting down with Cody and your mother, the men unbuckling and dropping their pants.
Your mother raises her eyebrow but shrugs and begins serving the meatloaf and passing around the side dishes, giving you a little pat on the head. “That’s a good idea, piggy! Why don’t you get under the table and give your father and brother some relief. Once you’ve satisfied them both, I’ll make you a little doggy dish of leftovers you can have.”
“I — I don’t—“ you stammer, before relenting and dropping to your hands and knees to crawl under the table. You don’t know why no one is telling Mom the truth but it makes you feel like you should go along with it.
Under the table, you have a choice between approaching your brother’s or father’s cock.. You immediately gravitate towards Dad, still pissed off at Cody from the encounter with Bianca and her crew.
You move between your father’s spread legs, putting you practically face to face with his cock. You hesitate. Mom can’t see you down here so maybe you don’t actually have to suck anyone’s dick. Your dad probably wouldn’t want your mouth on him anyway, especially with how disappointed he’d seemed at the store.
Just as you think that, though, your father grabs your hair and guides your mouth down over his cock, working you up and down like a toy until he cums.
Before you even have time to process what just happened, Dad is giving you a rough shove towards your brother, making you face-plant against Cody’s crotch. “Little piggy seems eager to be fed!” Cody chuckles. He’s clearly still worked up after not cumming in your ass earlier so he cums faster than Dad did, pumping a thick load of fun down your throat before shoving you away.
While you spend your humiliating time below the table, family dinner continues as normal above it. Mom asks about work, Dad and Cody chat a bit about the plan for tomorrow, and you hear the clink of silverware as they calmly eat with a pig’s mouth on their dicks. Mom says she ran into Sylvia when she was running some errands earlier today and says she looked good.
Dad is unenthusiastic through most of her stories, offering ‘yeah,’ ‘uh-huh,’ and ‘wow’ every so often. The mundanity of their conversation while they orgasm down your throat is both comforting (at least they aren’t talking sadistically about your death?) and unsettling (why is this already so normal for them?).
Finally, when Cody grunts and blows a decidedly unsubtle load into your hot mouth, you see your mom’s legs stand up from the table and go to fetch something from the counter. She comes back and you hear “Give me your plates, boys” then the sound of scraping. After a moment, you crawl to the edge of the table and your mother pats you on the head again, cooing “Good girl, goooood girl.” Then she sets down a plain metal dish, the generic kind you see in every pet store, filled with the detritus of your family’s meal -- a great gloppy heaping of mashed potatoes, gravy, bits of meatloaf and peas, already starting to get cold and unappealing. “Here you go, my little piggy! Good job, now eat up!”
You are pretty hungry and it’s not like things are going to get any less humiliating so you know what you do, Beth? You lean down and scarf up the bowl’s contents with your face like the dirty animal you are. As you finish your doggy dinner, Cody cleans up the dishes and Mom goes off to do some tidying before bedtime. Dad uses this opportunity to yank you up and drag you to your parents’ room, where he closes the door behind you both. Without any words beyond simple commands, he has you strip naked and applies a quick and dirty meat tattoo onto your thigh with a marker. It’s not amazing but it’ll fool your mom at a glance in the dark.
Just then your mom walks in, yawning and ready for bed. “Oh hey, you two,” she says. “Did you come to tuck our piggy into her new bed, dear?”
Your mom points to the corner and there’s something else she apparently bought for you today at the pet store — a very large “dog” cage that they obviously intend for you. There’s a blanket laid out on the bottom for a modicum of comfort and a small metal bowl of water in the corner.
Your dad, seeing it for the first time, is taken aback but is also clearly impressed with his wife’s initiative and ingenuity. “You heard your mother,” he points. “In the cage, pig.”
You open your mouth to protest but you’re exhausted and know it won’t accomplish anything anyway, so you crawl into the cage. Dad locks it closed behind you and he and your mother climb into bed, giving each other a kiss before turning out the lights. You sigh deeply, naked in the dark, curled and cramped in a cage, but do your best to get comfortable. After at least an hour of rolling around you finally descend into an uncomfortable, fitful sleep.