Spit-roast Sellout
 
Having to work overtime is never any fun.. especially when Penny has to take an extra shift on "pole duty" due to an unexpected rush on spit-roasts. Will she make it through her shift intact, or will she wind up just one more roast on a spit, turning over the coals?
 
MF/f, Cannibalism, Objectification, Impaling, Q-Knife, Cooking Prep, Casual
 
 --1--
 
 Penny looked up as several dirty spits were dumped onto her work table with a loud clang and clatter.
 
 "Got some more returns for ya." her coworker commented, as the girl dropped off the heavy, long, and unwieldy metal poles.
 
 "More?" Penny asked, frowning down at the sauce and grease smeared steel spits. "I've already cleaned nearly half a dozen. We hardly ever have as many come back in an entire day, let alone this many so early.."
 
 "Yeah, I guess spit-roasts have been selling like crazy today." the girl answered, as she bent over one of the nearby sinks and scrubbed her hands clean. "I heard that there's some sort of big event going on in the park. A convention or something."
 
 "Huh." Penny mused, as she finished wiping down the pole she'd been working on and then set it on the storage rack with the others.
 
 "You off soon?" the other girl asked, drying her hands off.
 
 "Yeah, my shift's almost over." Penny replied, nodding. "As soon as I finish with these, I'll be done. What about you, Sarah?"
 
 "Nah. I only came in a little while ago." Sarah replied, shrugging. "They've got me working the register for the meat department today. Anyway, see you later."
 
 "Later.." Penny said, with an absent wave to the departing girl, as she went back to work cleaning the dirty spits.
 
 Penny had been working in the meat department herself, on cleanup duty. She had to do all the unpleasant but necessary tasks that the butchers didn't have time for. Wiping down work surfaces, sweeping up stray bits of trimmings, mopping up spills, disposing of bones and other unwanted meat byproducts, emptying waste bins, and any other errands the butchers needed done. Lastly, she was also responsible for keeping all the tools and utensils clean and well maintained, which naturally included any used spits that had been returned.
 
 The returning spits were coated in a liberal mixture of cooked-on sauce and grease. Occasionally, if the spit and accompanying roast had been left cooking for too long, she would also have to remove bits of singed meat from where it had stuck to the surface of the steel pole. Each spit had to be scrubbed down thoroughly, then polished back up to a perfect shine before she could move on to the next.
 
 She normally saved this task for last, since it often didn't take very much time. Today, however, far more spits had been returned than was usual, which Penny supposed also meant that far more spit-roasts had been sold than was usual. Typically only one or two sold each day, if even that many. Demand for spit-roasts was very much a seasonal thing. It wasn't uncommon to not sell any at all for a week or more at a time during the middle of winter, for example. During the spring and summer, in contrast, sales generally picked up, spiking on holidays as people made use of the outdoor cooking pits in the large park right across from the market.
 
 Today was exceptional even by those standard, though. It was only barely early afternoon and already nearly a double handful of spit-roasts had apparently sold, been cooked, and then had their used spits returned. Whatever was going on in the park must be big, if they needed that much meat to feed everyone attending.
 
 Finally, she finished up with the last spit (the number eleven spit, she idly noted from the numerals raised in relief around the base). She stopped to admire her work for a moment, the gleaming metal spits all stacked up nicely in their rack, before she left to clock out.
 
 --2--
 
 "Penny."
 
 Penny turned from from her locker, where she had been storing her gloves and apron, to see one of the store's managers. It was Lauren, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties, who had always been fairly nice to her. For a manager, anyway.
 
 "Hey, boss." Penny answered, as she closed her locker. "What's up?"
 
 "Can you put in some overtime today?" Lauren asked, getting straight to the point.
 
 "I suppose so. I don't really have anything planned for this afternoon." Penny replied, after a moment of thought. "What do you need me for?"
 
 "Pole duty." Lauren said. "We're running really short handed right now. I'd appreciate it if you could put in an extra shift there."
 
 Penny hesitated a moment. Thinking back on the big stack of returned spits she'd just finished cleaning, she was not surprised by the request. Normally pole duty was something she only had to do once every few weeks, as all the girls who worked for the market (with the usual exception of the managers) took it in turns. If the amount of spits coming back in were any indication, however, then a lot more of the store's female employees were going to have to take their turn early today.
 
 Including her, apparently.
 
 "Okay." Penny finally sighed, mourning her lost time off a bit. "I guess I could use some overtime anyway."
 
 "Great, I really appreciate it." Lauren said, clapping Penny lightly on the shoulder. "Remind me of this the next time you want time off. I won't try so hard to talk you out of it, ha!"
 
 Penny just rolled her eyes as her manager walked away, then turned back around and opened her locker again. She undressed without any hurry, folding her clothes up and tucking them away carefully so that they wouldn't be wrinkled later. Then, completely nude, with her skin and body bare to the world, she returned to the meat department.
 
 --3--
 
 "Hey, guys." Penny said, greeting the butchers as she walked back into their domain.
 
 "Hey, Penny. Lauren roped you into pole duty, too?" one asked, eyeing her clothes-less body briefly. He didn't seem surprised.
 
 "Yeah."
 
 "Well, let's get you cleaned out, then." he stated, with a nod to the other butchers. "Follow me."
 
 Penny followed. Naked as she was, in almost any other circumstance she would have expected to draw the eye of everyone in the room, man or woman. The butchers were clearly accustomed to the sight of nude females, however, and the rest of them quickly dismissed her as they bent back to their individual tasks: cutting, slicing, and packaging up meat to sell.
 
 "Been busy today?" Penny asked, as both she and the butcher entered the cleaning room.
 
 "Yeah. Had to prep a lot of spit-roasts so far, way more than usual. We've also got another meat delivery scheduled to come in any time now." he said, as he unhooked a long, hosed device from the tiled wall and then gestured at her with it. "Okay, you know the drill. Up against the wall, and try to relax and not wiggle too much."
 
 "This ain't my first rodeo, cowboy." Penny replied, a grin quirking up one side of her mouth as she complied with his order.
 
 "Yeah, sorry. I guess you're right." the butcher said, as the device in his hands hummed to life at the flip of a switch. "It's just that I did another couple of girls a few minutes ago, and it was the first time for both of them. They were squirming and giggling so much that their cleanings took way longer than they needed to. Ridiculous."
 
 "Well, it does feel pretty weird getting one of those things put up your backside." Penny said, as she stuck her shapely bottom out, and spread her cheeks apart for him.
 
 "I'll take your word for it." he responded dryly, before he proceeded to insert half a foot of vibrating metal into her butt.
 
 "Ahh!" Penny moaned, unable to help herself from shivering in place.
 
 The thick probe was lubricated, so it didn't hurt as it filled up her bottom. It was difficult though, to stay very still as it pumped warm, soapy water into her. The slim, tentacle-like appendage that started snaking and spinning its way out of the device and up into her guts didn't make things any easier, either. Thankfully, the whole process only took a couple of minutes, the machine efficiently scrubbing out (and sucking up) absolutely everything in her entire digestive tract.
 
 "W-wish I'd known I was going.. going to have pole duty today.." she groaned, biting her lip as the machine started its rinse cycle and began to slowly withdraw from her. "I wouldn't have bothered having lunch!"
 
 Indeed, she'd felt what was left of the sandwich she'd eaten less than two hours ago get sucked right out of her stomach. Oh well, at least losing it would help her keep her figure.
 
 "There we go.." the butcher said, as the device finally finished having its way with her bottom. "Lemme scrub your outsides down too, then you'll be ready to go."
 
 Thankfully, having her skin cleaned wasn't nearly as invasive as having her intestines emptied, though the bristles of the brush he used could certainly have been a little less coarse and stiff. The last thing he did, as he was rinsing her off, was to send a few pulses of hot water up into her womanhood. She was expecting it, but (like always) getting cleaned out so made her squeak and shiver a little, despite herself.
 
 "Alright, done." he commented, chuckling slightly at her reaction. "Come on, let's go get you on a pole."
 
 She followed him once again, her body (and bottom) feeling a bit strange after such a thorough cleaning. The slightly chill air of the meat processing room made her shiver a little, and caused her damp skin to break out into gooseflesh.
 
 "Go ahead and get into position. I'll be right back with a spit." the butcher said, as he left her at a large metal table.
 
 Penny shivered again, then bent down and laid her torso on the (cold!) table top as commanded. A moment later, the butcher was back, carrying one of the long steel poles casually in his hands. It was the number eleven spit, which she'd just finished cleaning only a few minutes before.
 
 The butcher unscrewed the blunt end cap at the tip of the spit and set it aside. He then pulled open a drawer and withdrew another tip, one which was obviously much sharper, that had bright blue stripes along its cutting edges. It was wedge shaped, but long and narrow. Its blades at the base of the wedge were only slightly wider than the width of the spit itself.
 
 As he was doing this, two men, not butchers but regular store employees, walked into the processing room. They were carrying another spit on their shoulders. And on the spit, impaled all the way through and bound in place, was a live, wriggling girl.
 
 "First shift coming off pole duty, I see." Penny commented, taking in the sight of the spitted, squirming girl with calm aplomb.
 
 "Nah, she's actually from the second batch that got put out today." one of the spit bearers stated, as they thumped their load down unceremoniously on the table next to Penny. "All of the roasts from the first shift got snapped up almost right off. The guys in the meat department had to rush a bunch more out just to keep up with demand. Lauren was a bit put out, as she had to pull girls off of bagging, stocking, and facing duty to make up the numbers."
 
 "Oh.." Penny replied, blinking in surprise. "..well, how many of the second ones made it through their shift?"
 
 "How many? Ha, you're looking at her." the man replied, with a grunt of laughter.
 
 "Wait, she's it?" Penny asked, her eyebrows raising in surprise. "She's the only one, really?"
 
 "Yep. Just barely too, I think. A couple of girls from the third batch we've been putting out were getting picked even as we took this one down from display."
 
 "Dang.." Penny mused, as she regarded the lone survivor next to her. "Guess the odds might not be in my favor, then.."
 
 "Well, you never know.. They might all be getting full by now, ha! Just how many roasts can they eat, really?" he said, as he pulled the pin which held the stabilizing spike in place, and then slid the spike out of the impaled girl's rump and off the spit entirely.
 
 "You guys getting off soon?" the butcher standing behind Penny asked of the two, as he finished adjusting the new, sharp tip of the spit he was holding.
 
 "Right now, in fact." one said with a wink, as he unzipped his trousers. "Pity there's only one spit-roast coming off the display, though. Usually there's a bit more variety to choose from."
 
 "Best way to end the work day, I think." the other commented. "Even if I suppose that I'll have to wait for my turn."
 
 "Well, you can give me a hand while you wait." the butcher stated. "Hold this one down while I stick her, will you?"
 
 "Sure, sure."
 
 The man moved to stand right in front of Penny, then pressed her shoulders down, holding her body flat against the table with his weight. Even as he did this, Penny felt the sharp tip of the spit, guided by the butcher behind her, touch her sex.
 
 "Ready?" the butcher asked.
 
 "Ready." the other guy replied.
 
 Penny didn't say anything, as it didn't much matter if she was ready or not, because the spit was already on its way into her. The point of the spit parted her folds easily, and the thick girth of solid steel shaft filled her completely, causing her to gasp and buck slightly in place.
 
 "Hold her."
 
 "I've got her, don't worry."
 
 It took only a moment for the spit to plumb to the deepest part of her sex. Then, without pausing, the butcher holding it pushed it even deeper into her, and the point and edges of the sharp spit tip began parting her flesh as easily as if she had been made of softened butter. She could offer nothing in the way of resistance, nor did she even feel the need to, as there was no pain (though that didn't stop her womanhood from clenching around the intruder anyway). The cutting edges of the blue-tipped spit were not normal blades, but Q-cutting surfaces. They would slice through her flesh almost as if it wasn't there, but they didn't actually do her any damage, or harm her in any way, aside from a mild and brief pinching sensation.
 
 Her womb and intestines and other internal organs all yielded to the blue-edged blades, the width of which granted a clean passage for the spit shaft following along behind them. The cold steel of the spit filled the hole that was not quite a hole though her insides, just as it filled her sex. Soon enough, the tip of the spit was at the base of her throat.
 
  And then it was IN her throat, filling that up as well and stopping her breath, and shortly after that it was sliding over her tongue and exiting out her mouth. She watched the smooth steel pole slide further and further through her, the blue pointed tip extending out of her mouth just as the base protruded from her womanhood.
 
 "There we go.." the butcher said, once the spit was in position, Penny impaled on it like a butterfly on a pin.
 
 "Looks good." the other man said, as he laid his hand in the center of her bare chest. "Feels like you missed her heart, too."
 
 He had, thankfully. Having the spit go through the heart was a bit painful. The critical organ wasn't damaged by the Q-surfaces, but having its shape distorted so much by the large spit that followed after them often made the heart act oddly, beating erratically and out of rhythm. Having this state of affairs go on for a prolonged period, say by being put on display for hours at a time for example, could be incredibly uncomfortable.
 
 Penny wriggled a bit on her spit, impressed (as always) by how securely and rigidly the steel pole held her in place. Her arms were quickly captured by the butcher and bound behind her back at the wrists and elbows with disposable, heat resistant cord. Her ankles and knees too were trussed together and to the spit, but only after a stabilization spike was fitted to the spit and slid up it until the point nestled between her bottom cheeks.
 
 "Might wanna get the breathing port into her soon.." the man who had helped the butcher spit her commented, as if observing the weather.
 
 "Yeah, yeah. After I get her secured." the butcher stated, even as he pressed the stabilizing spike home into Penny's freshly cleaned out bottom. "There isn't any rush."
 
 Penny quite disagreed, but wasn't in a position to say so, unfortunately. Finally, the butcher seemed satisfied with how deep he had penetrated her bottom with the stabilizer, and secured it in place before flipping her over. He pulled another object out of the drawer, then aligned it with her trachea and pushed. All of a sudden there was a gush of fresh air, and Penny was able to breath again.
 
 She gasped in deep breaths, sucking air greedily through the hole another Q-knife had made low in her throat. A hollow metal doughnut, a grommet shaped breathing port, was pressed firmly into place through the bloodless wound and made the crude but effective tracheotomy semi-permanent, holding the edges of her throat apart. The flesh parted by the Q-knife would otherwise reseal itself after a few moments, cutting off her ability to breath once again.
 
 "There we go.." the butcher said, sounding satisfied after he had swapped the sharp tip of the spit back out with the blunt end cap. "Another spit-roast ready for the display racks. Wanna give me a hand hauling her out there?"
 
 "Nah, man. I'm off now." the other man said, as he watched his friend casually thrust himself into the other spitted girl's bottom.
 
 The girl was flushed, with her bound hands flexing and clenching, wriggling and squirming on the spit as her rump was sodomized. She didn't look like she objected to the treatment very much, not that it seemed as if it would matter to anyone else even if she did. The only sounds she was making was ragged breathing through the metal port in her own throat.
 
 "Jeez, lazy.." the butcher muttered, rolling his eyes.
 
 "Hey, hurry it up, will you?" the waiting man complained, ignoring the butcher's comment in favor of glaring at his happily engaged counterpart.
 
 "I'm going to be awhile.." the other man said, a bit of a smug grin on his face. "Use her mouth if you can't wait."
 
 "Yeah, I think I might then."
 
 The girl's spit was slid partially out, just enough to clear her mouth and some of her throat, without the man using her bottom missing a stroke. Once enough of the metal spit was out of the way, the other man promptly filled the space it had occupied with his own fleshy pole, sighing happily as he did so.
 
 Penny watched this from the corner of her eyes, as she couldn't turn her head to look directly at what was happening beside her. It wasn't unusual for a girl coming off pole duty to be subjected to such things. Any girl doing pole duty was not considered an employee for as long as she was on a spit, but rather simply that much more meat in the market's inventory. Sexual harassment laws only applied to people, not products, after all. The store's management had no obligation to intervene, so long as their workers made sure to only have their fun at the end of a spitted girl's pole duty shift. They even considered it good for morale. Playing around with a spit-roast before she was put out on display would potentially contaminate the meat, though, and was strictly forbidden as a matter of course.
 
 Her butcher recruited one of his compatriots, and together they hefted up Penny's spit, and her along with it, and carried it toward the exit. The last thing she saw, before she was carried out of the room, was the large steel delivery doors along the far wall booming open. Uniformed delivery men entered, pushing full rolling racks along in front of them. Each rack was heavily laden with fresh, farm-raised meat. Halved girl carcasses, both headless and handless, hung by their ankles from sturdy meat hooks. More raw materials for the butchers to work with and satisfy the public's demand for girlflesh.
 
 --4--
 
 Penny's trip was brief. The two butchers carried her out through the meat department's front area, where all the cuts of girlmeat the butchers had already prepared were on sale within refrigerated glass counters and cases. They briefly stopped to place her spit upon a large set of scales, then punched in the result to a computer, which printed out a price tag based on her weight. The tag was attached to a sturdy steel alligator clip, which was then attached in turn to Penny's left nipple, causing her to jerk and wriggle in futile protest as the sharp, serrated teeth bit deeply into her flesh. Then, nipple still stinging, she was taken out to the spit-roast display racks.
 
 There were six slots, in an arrangement of two high and three long, for spits to rest in on the display rack. Each one would rotate slowly in place, in order to best show off the roasts skewered upon them. Three of the slots were already filled, with the other three being conspicuously vacant. Penny briefly saw, just before her spit was placed into the empty top center of these slots, a small group of customers leaving the store. They were chattering animatedly while walking out of the market's front doors, and casually carrying two spitted girls on their shoulders toward the park across the street.
 
 Yes, Penny thought with a little shiver at the sight of the two girls being taken away, the survival odds for pole duty were not good today. Usually pole duty was no big deal, as there were two shifts of six girls on display throughout the day, and maybe one or two of them might get purchased, if even that. Many of the girls considered it something of a lark or thrill. A day free of worry or work stress, where all they had to do was spin 'round and 'round and take it easy in the buff. Heck, a few girls preferred it entirely, even.
 
 One such girl was directly below her, spinning slowly just as Penny herself was. She recognized the girl easily, once her spit had rotated enough to let Penny see her clearly, anyway. Clare was one of her friends, a nice, sweet girl she occasionally went out with after work. Clare liked doing pole duty because she said that she was terminally lazy. Her reasoning was something along the lines of why should she have to earn her paycheck by actually working, when she could get it by simply spending all day on display instead? Penny doubted this somewhat, though. She thought that the girl might really just like being the center of attention, and perhaps even found the thrill of the risk of getting bought exciting.
 
 Penny sighed through the hole in her neck. Easy as pole duty may be, it could be quite boring, too, despite the risks. The only thing one could do was watch shoppers come and go from the store and wait for one's shift to end.
 
 The spit-roast display racks were a good position to watch from, though, so at least there was that. The display stand was located just inside the front doors of the market, right between the entrance and exit, so people would see them both as they were coming in and as they were leaving. A live spit-roast wasn't really something that was practical to impulse buy, but that didn't seem to matter much to management. They liked having their prime meat products proudly on display and attracting attention, apparently. Perhaps they thought the spitted girls being visible from outside would help draw in more customers.
 
 And maybe they were right, for attention they did indeed attract. Many of the shoppers entering the store would spend a moment or two inspecting the spit-roasts on display, even if they had no intention of actually buying one. Most just looked, but some got a little more hands on, too. It wasn't uncommon to be felt up and examined by curious shoppers. Fingertips traced across the stomach, a squeeze of the calf or thigh, a heft of a breast, or a pinch on the bottom by various hands, rough or smooth, cold or warm, large and small.
 
 Penny spent her time watching people come and go, occasionally being prodded and poked by curious customers. She would catch the eye of Clare when she could, and the two of them would try to communicate, with limited success. There was only so much information one could convey with eye rolls, blinks, brow movements, and breathy gasps after all. Talk was impossible, of course, with the spits down their gullets and holes cut in their throats. Penny did manage to learn from the girl that she'd only been put out a little before Penny herself had, and that she'd probably volunteered for the task, which was just that much more evidence for Penny's theory that the girl was a thrill seeker.
 
 Two more girls on spits got brought out a few minutes after Penny. She idly noted the numbers on their spits, six and fourteen, which were ones she herself had cleaned not so long before. Her own spit was number eleven, and Clare's was seven. She couldn't see the other two spitted girls, as they were positioned below her feet and out of Penny's view. For awhile, all six of them just turn peacefully in place, there on the display stand, on their numbered spits. Their dangling price tags occasionally tweaked and tugged on their nipples as their breasts shifted and rolled with each rotation. Then, a few moments after a particularly annoying pair of giggling ten year old girls got done poking and pinching Penny's immobilized flesh, it happened.
 
 The same group of customers that Penny had seen leaving with spit-roasts when she'd first been brought out returned to the store. A woman leading, with four men following along behind. They homed in immediately on the spit-roast display.
 
 "Hmm, looks like they've got some new ones out.." one of the guys said, as the entire group began to closely examine Penny and the rest of the spitted girls.
 
 The little group went over them minutely, squeezing and feeling and inspecting each girl in turn, pointing out what they found to each other with excited little comments.
 
 "..good thighs, on this one.."
 
 "..very firm.."
 
 "..rump on this one's better, though.."
 
 "..calves to die for.."
 
 "..well toned.."
 
 "..great breasts. Look at the size and shape!"
 
 This last was directed an Penny herself, as she felt her fairly generous chest be held in the woman's firm grip. Her breath caught, as her sensitive breasts were fondled and squeezed by almost a dozen hands in rapid succession.
 
 "Yeah, these ARE nice." one of the men agreed, brushing his fingertips lightly down the sides of Penny's left breast, before rolling the nipple holding her price tag in between his strong fingers. "Wanna get her?"
 
 "Maybe, let me look at these others a bit more, first." the woman replied, her gaze lingering on Penny for just a moment longer.
 
 The spitted girls could do nothing but clench their hands and squirm as they were being inspected and tested. Finally, the woman, who seemed to be the one in charge, announced her decision.
 
 "This one.." she said, as she laid a hand on the girl in front of Penny's head.
 
 Penny heard the selected spit-roast suck in a shocked breath through her throat port, and the girl's toes curled at the sudden and very permanent change in her fortunes.
 
 "..aannd.." the woman said, her eyes coming to rest on Penny for a long second, before sliding downward.
 
 "..this one." she finished, placing her second hand on Clare's thigh. "She's got a nice rump and set of thighs. She'll fill up quite a few platters."
 
 Penny saw Clare's chest heave, as the girl gasped and trembled.
 
 The four men divided into sets of two, and hefted the newly selected spit-roasts off of the display stand and up onto their shoulders. They followed the woman to the register at the meat department, carrying their burdens easily, talking with each other happily.
 
 The group passed by a few moments later, on the other side of the display stand, as they made their way to the exits. The receipt for the purchase of the two roasts was held absently in the woman's hand as she led the way. Penny's last look at Clare was of the girl's face, her eyes wide and almost disbelieving, as she was carried past. They stared at each other for a brief heart beat, then she was gone.
 
 Penny's heart raced as she reflected on her close call. She'd been on pole duty on many occasions, but had only seen someone be selected a handful of times before, and never two at once. Each time had been scary, though thrilling in an exciting way too, when a girl would be lifted up and taken away, now just so much more meat. It was pure chance as to who would be picked. Different customers prized different qualities in their spit-roasts, so there was no way to know in advance how things would turn out. Poor Clare, who had spent far more time on pole duty than Penny, had finally had her luck run out.
 
 The thrill, which Penny's own heaving chest and quick pulse could attest to, could be addicting to some girls, such as Clare. Though Penny couldn't blame them much, really. As scary as it was, being utterly vulnerable and at the mercy of hungry shoppers, it could also be very, very exciting: being passed over by mere whim and watching another girl be carried off to her fate. Not to mention arousing, knowing it could happen again at any time, and that one might not be so lucky a second time. Penny's hard nipples and suddenly moist sex were ample proof of that.
 
 She squirmed a bit on the spit again, which was just about all she could do, really. The stabilizing spike in her bottom, not to mention the cords around her wrists and ankles, held her very firmly in place. Still, she was able to wiggle her impaled body back and forth on the spit an inch or so. It was the only stimulation she could give herself, and she noticed that she wasn't the only girl on display to be doing so. The tiny bit of friction from the smooth pole gave her just enough pleasure to keep her arousal going, but no more, unfortunately. It was frustrating, but also amazing, as it was just another tiny reminder about how little control she had over her current situation.
 
 It wasn't long after Clare and the other girl had been taken away that one of the men returned. He was carrying an armful of empty spits. He casually dropped the used, grease and sauce covered spits off at the meat department's counter, collected the deposit for them, then left again, whistling cheerfully.
 
 Penny shivered at the sight of the used spits, wondering which girls had been on them. No doubt they were ones who had been selected some time before noon, probably while Penny had still been working clean up. She resolved to keep an eye on any more returning spits. Perhaps she'd see a familiar number. Then she shuddered again, imagining her own empty spit, number eleven, being returned while coated in sauce and grease. She wiggled back and forth on the spit faster at the thought, the perverse and scary idea somehow making her even more aroused.
 
 She wondered if they would come back again, to pick out more spit-roasts.
 
 --5--
 
 They did. Several times, in fact.
 
 Each time was like the first. The woman, accompanied by four men (who varied and weren't always the same), would walk in, inspect the spit-roasts available, then select two and leave with them. Each time, Penny thought that she would be picked. The woman would fondle and coo over her breasts, complimenting them enthusiastically, tugging on her price tag while practically drooling. Then, mysteriously, she'd pick another girl rather than Penny. By the third repetition, Penny thought her heart might burst, and was absolutely sure her number was up, but again, she was passed over in favor of a different girl. It would have been a bit disheartening, apparently coming up short compared to all of the other girls, if it wasn't also such a relief.
 
 Penny's luck was also reinforced by a constant flow of freshly spitted girls to fill out the display stand's ranks. The flow of new girls was equaled by the number of used spits being returned to the store, each one very much absent of the girl who had been carried out on it. Penny shuddered when she saw the number seven spit, the one Clare had been impaled upon earlier, eventually return too. The thin patina of cooked on sauce and grease that coated the steel pole was all that was left of the thrill-seeking girl now, she supposed.
 
 Unfortunately, as the afternoon wore on, the number of girls being added to the spit-roast display began to dwindle, even though the number being purchased remained constant. Finally, if was just Penny and another girl (whose name Penny didn't know) left, both trembling (and wriggling) in nervous, aroused anticipation on their spits.
 
 As she saw yet another pair of used spits being returned, Penny wondered if she would make it. Her shift would be almost over now, and surely, surely whoever was across the street in the park couldn't need any more girls, right? It was getting pretty late, after all. Perhaps she would make it to the end. She dared to hope.
 
 Which was when the woman and her quartet of men returned once again, for the last time.
 
 "Well, I guess we don't have much in the way of choice this time, do we?" one of the men commented, as he ran a hand possessively down the curve of Penny's hip and thigh.
 
 "That's alright." the woman said, sounding not at all displeased as she zeroed in on Penny's breasts and started kneading them appreciatively. "I've been saving the best for last, anyway."
 
 "I'd been wondering why you hadn't picked that one, yet." the man laughed. "I guess I can't blame you. If you'd grabbed her earlier, she would have been snapped up before you even had a chance to snag a single bite."
 
 Penny's heart thundered in her chest. She'd been so close!
 
 "Grab them. We need to get back to the park and get them over the coals. It's starting to get late."
 
 Penny's whole world tilted and swayed, as she was hoisted up off the display stand and the ends of her spit were perched upon two of the men's shoulders. Her breathing was fast and erratic, and a violent mixture of fear, denial, and even perverse arousal was bubbling in her stomach and chest. She'd been picked! It was one of those things that a girl on pole duty knew could happen, but never really believed would. She wondered if Clare had felt exactly the same way, when she'd been carried off earlier.
 
 It was Sarah running the register, of course. If the girl recognized Penny on her spit, she didn't say anything. She just calmly reached out and plucked the price tag hanging from Penny's nipple off, causing the alligator clip holding it on to tug and snap painfully.
 
 "That'll be two seventy-five, even." Sarah said, after she'd totaled up the numbers on both Penny's and the other girl's tags. "Good prices, today. You guys are getting a steal, especially considering how much you've bought."
 
 "Yeah, your store's great." the woman laughed, as she patted Penny appreciatively on the rump. "Great quality, too."
 
 "Come back again!" Sarah call out cheerfully, after they'd completed the transaction and the group began leaving.
 
 "Count on it!" the woman called back, as she led the men holding Penny's spit out of the store.
 
 Penny, her own eyes probably as wide as Clare's had been, looked back at Sarah one last time, before she took in the sight of the empty spit-roast display rack as she was carried past it. This was it, she'd been sold! There was only one thing left now, she realized, with another shudder and futile squirm.. she was going to be taken to the park and cooked!
 
 --6--
 
 The trip out of the store, across the street, and through the park was surreal. It was a walk she'd taken many times before. In fact, it was very nearly the same walk Penny took every time she got off work and went home afterward. It was very strange to follow the same old familiar route, only this time as food, rather than on foot.
 
 The park was more crowded than usual, too, by quite a fair margin. It was, Penny realized as she listened in on the group's chatter as they made their way, a family reunion of some sort. Given the number of people present (not to mention the number of spit-roasts it had taken to feed them all), it must have been one heck of big family. They had apparently reserved the entire park for the occasion.
 
 Penny expected to be stared at and commented on, if not for the fact that she was a nude girl on a spit, than for the fact that she would very probably soon be food on their plates. Hardly anyone seemed to notice her, however, and everyone, save the energetically running, screaming, and shouting children, looked to be rather well fed already. Many were even relaxing into lazy late afternoon naps in the shady grass, their hands over their apparently full bellies, looking well satisfied.
 
 "Here we go.." the woman said, as they approached the part of the park with the open air cooking pits, which were solidly built out of red bricks. "Set them on the prep racks, will you? I'll start in on them in a few minutes. I've got to check on the ones over the coals first."
 
 "Sure thing, Wanda." one of the guys said, as he and his fellows slung Penny and her companion down off their shoulders and onto a standing steel rack positioned next to some picnic tables. "You want any help, just call us, okay?"
 
 The rack held one spitted girl already, who looked rather worried as she awaited her turn.
 
 "Yeah, yeah.." The woman said, waving them away. "Now, shoo! Let me work."
 
 The woman, who was apparently named Wanda, spent the next several minutes tending to the girls already turning over the coals of the cooking pits, of which there was half a dozen. Some looked like they had just been put on to cook very recently, still squirming in the heat with reddening, but otherwise unblemished sauce coated skin. Others looked nearly done, unmoving and still, with their browning skin cracking and bubbling, leaking steaming, aromatic juices that dripped down into the coals.
 
 Wanda doted on them all, covering each with a fresh layer of bar-Be-Que sauce with quick, sure brushstrokes. Different girls got different flavors, and the smell of it all made Penny's mouth water even around the spit that filled it.
 
 "There.." Wanda hummed to herself, as she swayed back and forth between the slowly turning spit-roasts, wielding her brush expertly. "..and there.. and there.."
 
 The still living girls wriggled and squirmed vigorously, almost violently, when the new layer of sauce was brushed onto their skin. If Wanda saw their wiggling, or heard their breath rasping roughly in and out of the ports in their throats, or noticed their fingers and toes curling and trembling desperately, she didn't seem inclined to show much sympathy. They were just meat, after all.
 
 "..and there we are." Wanda said, as she finished up her task and turned back toward Penny and the other two girls. "And now it's time to get you three ready for your turns, my beauties!"
 
 Wanda started with the girl who had already been waiting on the rack. She was one of the last pair of spit-roasts that had been taken before Penny herself had. Penny recognized the girl, but couldn't quite remember her name. V-something? Veronica? No, that wasn't it. Not that names had much meaning for any of them, anymore. Wanda bent low over the girl, inspecting her closely, still humming tunelessly.
 
 "And what flavor should I use on you, hmm?" she mused, before she parted her lips and enveloped one of the girl's nipples.
 
 "Hmm.. mmm..." Wanda hummed, as she traced her way from one nipple to the other with her moist lips, and then down the girl's fluttering stomach to her sex.
 
 The spitted girl (Victoria? No..) gasped through her throat port and rocked her hips as best she could when Wanda's lips closed over her clitoris and suckled, tongue apparently lashing the little bud.
 
 "Mmm, spicy.." Wanda mused, when she stood up straight again a few moments later. "Mesquite will do for you, I think."
 
 The cook went to the picnic table and started preparing and mixing up different ingredients. It seemed that she created her sauces basically from scratch, adding various spices and seasonings in to one of a few different pre-made bases to make custom flavors for each new spit-roast. She seemed well practiced at it, and it didn't take her very long to finish.
 
 "Now, let's allow that sauce to sit for a few moments before we apply it.." Wanda commented, apparently mostly for her own benefit. "..and get your breasts plumped up a bit."
 
 The woman popped open a cooler, then reached in and extracted a pair of large syringes filled with dark, smokey fluid. Some sort of marinade, it seemed, and from Wanda's comment, Penny was fairly sure that she knew where it was going to go. Her suspicions turned out to be correct. The cook flicked the safety cap off the tip of one of the syringes, grasped (V.. Vv.. dang it, just what was her name?) the girl's left breast firmly, and jammed in directly into her nipple, as deep as it would go.
 
 The spitted girl groaned and writhed around helplessly, as Wanda pressed the plunger on the large syringe and slowly emptied its contents into the meat of her breast. She gradually withdrew the syringe's needle as she did so, making sure the spread the marinade into the entire mammary gland. The girl whimpered when the last dregs of the fluid pushed their way into her flesh, and the needle was finally withdrawn.
 
 The cook repeated the process with the spit-roast's other breast, much to the impaled girl's evident chagrin. Again, the cook took no notice of the girl's impotent protests, and only smiled and patted each breast fondly as she finished with it. Small beads of marinade pooled at the tip of each of the girl's dangling breasts, leaking from her recently skewered nipples.
 
 Wanda then set the syringes aside, and picked up a bottle of olive oil. She used a liberal splash of the viscous fluid to oil down the spitted girl's short hair, slicking it back against her scalp. Then, the custom made sauce was remixed, and applied very thoroughly over the spit-roast's entire body. No crack, crevice, or patch of skin was spared. Even her hair got a coat, right over the top of the olive oil.
 
 "Mmm.. you look just about perfect!" Wanda exclaimed happily, once she'd finished with her brushwork. "Now, let me check on how the others are doing, and see if there is a space for you over the coals available yet."
 
 Apparently, there was. Wanda cooed delightedly over one of the roasted girls, who was apparently perfectly done. The freshly prepped spit-roast beside Penny trembled on her steel pole, her bound hands clenching and relaxing fretfully, fearfully, as the chef called over a couple of brawny young men to move the finished roast off of the cooking pit.
 
 "Be careful, boys!" Wanda called out crossly, when one tripped slightly and almost dropped his end of the spit. "Now, just set her over there in the serving rack. Then, bring the new one and put her into the empty spot."
 
 "And for goodness sake, don't drop her!" she finished, shaking her head.
 
 The young men did as directed, depositing the well cooked spit-roast directly onto a short rack set over a long and wide oval platter sitting on one of the picnic tables. The roasted girl steamed gently, delicious smelling juices slowly oozing out of her perfectly browned flesh and pattering onto the platter below.
 
 The prepared girl's (V.. Va.. something? Arg!) breath was hitching in quick, raspy gasps, catching in her throat as her chest heaved rapidly. She gargled something unintelligible as the two men picked up her spit and moved it toward the now vacant cooking pit. What was no doubt her last, desperate plea went mostly unheard and completely unheeded, thanks to the spit filling her mouth and the opening in the base of her throat. The burst of frantic, panicked writhing that the heat of the cooking pit induced in the poor girl, as her spit was set into place above the coals, was the most energetic movements Penny had seen from any spit-roast yet. It was also completely futile: there would be no escape from the heat.
 
 "Thanks, boys!" Wanda said, as she set the latest girl turned spit-roast to rotating over the flames of the cooking pit. "I'll let you know when I need you for the next one!"
 
 With that, Wanda turned her gaze, her very hungry, very predatory gaze upon Penny, who shivered, closed her eyes, and would have gulped, had she been able to.
 
 --7--
 
 Fortunately, for Penny at least, Wanda didn't come over and begin preparing her right away. She spent a few minutes tending to the roasting girls again, brushing a fresh coat of sauce over each one. Even the newest spit-roast got another coat, and she wriggled most fiercely during its application. For all the good it did her, which was not very much. This was in contrast to one of the other girls, who had, during Wanda's previous check up, writhed slowly and languidly as her browning skin was basted. Now, though, she was as still as a stone as her latest layer of sauce was added: no longer a girl, just a beautiful spit-roast in the midst of cooking. Mere meat, claimed by the heat.
 
 Penny couldn't escape the cook's attention forever, though, and soon enough, Wanda was standing over her. The woman's eyes were alight, her grin wide, as she regarded Penny's trapped form.
 
 "Mmm.." Wanda murmured, as she drew her fingertips slowly down the line of Penny's body, admiring the swells and dips of her ample curves. "I've been waiting for you all day, my dear."
 
 "Now, shall we see just what sort of flavor of girl you are, hmm?" she continued, licking her lips sensuously, hungrily, before bending down low over Penny.
 
 "Mmm.." Wanda moaned, even as Penny gasped in reaction, as the woman wrapped her lips around Penny's left nipple, the one still sore from the alligator toothed clip of her price tag.
 
 Her cook bathed Penny's nipple with her tongue, then suckled sweetly, with her hand cupping the full slope of Penny's breast possessively.
 
 "Oh, yes.. interesting." Wanda whispered, before nipping lightly at the bud in her mouth, causing Penny to start in place.
 
 Then, trailing kisses down into and across Penny's cleavage, Wanda moved on to her right nipple, sucking, licking, and even playfully nibbling on it as Penny squirmed in fear and arousal. Despite the pleasures being inflicted upon her flesh, Penny also knew that this woman was the one who would probably end up eating that same flesh once she had finished cooking it. It was a powerful schism in her mind, pleasure and pain, fear and lust, all muddled up together.
 
 She REALLY wished that she could have touched herself. It might have been able to clear her head some, not that it her state of mind really mattered very much anymore.
 
 Wanda abandoned her nipples after a few moments, and worked her way down Penny's abdomen. Each kiss, each lick, each little nip of the smooth flesh of her belly stoked the fires of Penny's arousal further. And when, finally, Wanda's lips reached Penny's womanhood, she bucked in place, as hard as she could while being skewered through with a spit, and tried desperately and futilely to thrust her hips forward into the other woman's mouth.
 
 Wanda seemed to know Penny's desires though, and it seemed that her own were in accordance. She deepened her kiss around Penny's clit, using her lips to brush aside its hood and her tongue to flicker repeatedly over the sensitive little pearl, tasting, testing, teasing.
 
 Penny moaned in dismay when Wanda eventually straightened back up, a thoughtful, pensive expression on the woman's face. The spitted girl had been mere moments away from an orgasm, a powerful one, and felt it slipping away even as she tried desperately to sustain it. She ground herself on the spit as best she could, in an attempt to stimulate herself, but it was not enough. A low wheeze that would have been a plaintive wail groaned out of her throat, and she shook with unfulfilled need.
 
 "My goodness.." Wanda sighed, closing her eyes rapturously. "You are maybe the sweetest girl that I've ever tasted. Honey. Nothing less will do for you. Yes, Honey!"
 
 Then, even as Penny's eyes begged her cook to return and finish what she'd started, Wanda turned to the picnic tables and began furiously mixing up a new sauce. What base she used, and what other miscellaneous ingredients when into it, Penny could not be sure. But even she, distracted as she was, couldn't miss Wanda emptying an entire jar of honey into the mix.
 
 "Yes, yes, yes! Honey!" Wanda stated, talking to herself happily. "My sweet girl, you'll be my best work today, I think! Mmm, I can't wait to taste you.."
 
 "But, first.." Wanda exclaimed, suddenly setting the mixing bowl down hard. "Your breasts! Let's fill them up. Not that they hardly need it, ha!"
 
 Her chef reached back across the picnic table, into the cooler she'd opened before, and produced two more enormous syringes full of more, lighter colored marinade. However, instead of simply plunging the long needles directly into Penny's breasts, and filling them up with the pale, seasoned fluid, Wanda instead popped the plunger out of each in turn. She then turned them over and dumped out about half of their contents. She topped each off once again by pouring in honey from yet another jar of the sweet, golden liquid. The plungers were replaced, the syringes shook vigorously to mix everything up, and only then did Wanda approach Penny.
 
 With syringes in hand, and a gleam in her eye, her chef did the thing Penny had been dreading ever since watching the last girl's cooking preparation. She took Penny's full, large left breast in hand, squeezed it appreciatively, then sank the long, long needle of the syringe into its center.
 
 Penny groaned and squirmed, as best she could, as she felt her nipple be impaled upon the large needle. Indeed, the needle and syringe looked quite a bit larger than the ones that Wanda had used on the previous spit-roast. Whether they actually were or not, Penny couldn't tell, but they certainly felt so.
 
 A mix of honey and marinade invaded the tissues of her breast, swelling them visibly as Wanda pressed firmly on the plunger of the syringe. Penny gasped and shuddered, her chest heaving, as her boob was painfully filled to the brim and beyond with sweet, stinging marinade. Unfortunately, Penny realized as Wanda finished and pulled out the needle, her ordeal was only half over. Her right breast still had to take its share of marinade, too.
 
 The second breast was no easier than the first to endure, though she had to anyway. It felt like her breast was inflating, bulging vulgarly with the foreign fluids. Her boobs felt so full when Wanda finished with them and gave them a fond pat that they felt like they might burst. However, her trial by marinade was not over completely, as Penny soon learned.
 
 "You know.." Wanda thought aloud, as she toyed with Penny's now very, very plump breasts, massaging them to spread the marinade throughout her meat. "..maybe I should do your filet, too.. I bet that would be amazing. Honey infused filet.. Mmm.."
 
 Penny's breath caught in her throat. Surely not..? Having it done to her breasts had been bad enough, but her sex, too? Surely not. Please not.
 
 Her hope was in vain, though, as Wanda popped off the plunger of one of the syringes once again, and tipped the jar of honey over it. She filled the thing back up to its full capacity, then set aside the honey jar and recapped it.
 
 Penny squirmed, and whined desperately, even piteously through the hole in her throat. But, like before, Wanda was apparently deaf to her fervent protests. Her chef brushed her fingertips across the top of Penny's sex, then spread aside her hood and positioned the tip of the syringe directly over her clitoris.
 
 "This is going to be so good.." Wanda murmured, over Penny's wheezy, panicked gasps.
 
 Then she pushed the needle down, into Penny's clit, and pressed the plunger of the syringe.
 
 Ironically, just a few minutes previously Penny would have done just about anything to have Wanda pay a little more attention to her clit. Now, she would have done just about anything to get the woman to leave it alone. Alas, her wants and wishes were for naught. Her flesh was not her own, anymore. It belonged to Wanda, and Wanda wanted it filled up, as full as it could go, with honey. So, that was what happened.
 
 Pain, so very much pain, as Penny's clit was pumped full of the golden fluid. Ironically, underneath the pain was a not insignificant amount of pleasure, too. Wanda was massaging the little fleshy bud of Penny's clitoris, rubbing little circles around it even as she skewered it with the needle, trying to get the tortured flesh to accept even one more additional drop of honey into it. Finally, finally, the needle was withdrawn from her most tender, sensitive nubbin.
 
 "Mmm.. perfect." Wanda purred, as she caressed Penny's engorged flesh. "Now let's do the rest."
 
 They syringe was, very unfortunately, still mostly full. And Wanda apparently intended to empty it, in its entirety, into her sex.
 
 It was not a fast process. Fraction of an inch by fraction of an inch, Penny's chef moved relentlessly around her womanhood, injecting more and more honey into her flesh as she went. Every fold and lip received its share and more, and some was placed so deep into her sex that Penny felt it bulging and pressing against the steel spit, far within her. Wanda ended the ordeal as it began, by forcing the last little bit of honey into Penny's already swollen clit. The poor nub, and indeed her entire womanhood, was puffy with injected gold.
 
 "Oh, my dear.." Wanda whispered, as she bent low to lick up the stray dropplets of honey oozing from various places on Penny's body. "My sweet girl. I think that I'm going to enjoy you very much."
 
 --8--
 
 Penny gasped, shuddering on her spit, as she tried to recover her breath and the tatters of her composure. Wanda was not idle while Penny did this, returning to the half-completed sauce she'd left on the picnic table. Finishing it took almost no time at all, and it was set aside only briefly as Wanda oiled Penny's hair down. Then, brush in hand, her chef began coating Penny in the last thing she would probably ever wear: her own personalized bar-be-Que sauce.
 
 It did smell and taste strongly of honey. A little seeped around the spit and past her lips. It was quite heavenly, and Penny wished absently that she was experiencing the sauce from the other side of the plate, so to speak. Unfortunately, it was her lot to absorb the sauce into her skin, not into her taste buds.
 
 The stoke of the brush was gentle, tender, and mild compared to what she had just experienced with the marinade needles, and Penny found it oddly relaxing. The feel, smell, and sense of the sauce as it glided into place on her skin was mesmerizing, and Penny felt her breathing ease and her muscles untense. Even the soft strokes that passed over the parts of her that were inflamed and tender with marinade were comforting, rather than painful. Which was all to the good, because Wanda paid extra attention to those particular areas, making sure Penny's breasts and sex were quite liberally coated in the sweet, sticky sauce.
 
 "There we are.." Wanda sighed, as she finished teasing the brush between Penny's flexing and wiggling toes (which quite tickled, of course). "Now, I don't think that there's going to be a space open for you for another little bit, just yet. So, wait patiently there, okay? Your turn will come, I promise."
 
 Penny wasn't sure whether the woman was trying to reassure her, or her own self instead, but supposed it didn't matter, really. She watched the cook leave her side and then move to take up a large knife and meat fork, and begin carving the now well rested, perfectly cooked meat off of the spit-roast perched upon the serving rack.
 
 Wanda carved slices of meat carefully and methodically from the roasted girl, starting with her calves and working her way up. As soon as she'd line up a nice batch of sliced meat, she'd transfer it to a smaller platter, and it would be whisked away by one of the women running the serving tables. Wanda was in charge of the spit-roasts, but other women were apparently running the rest of the sizable picnic. Occasionally she would sweep up the pool of savory juices that was forming beneath her quickly flickering knife and fork, which would then be moved to a container and disappear off with the serving girls too.
 
 Penny watched as Wanda slowly but surely dismantled the entire roast. Thigh steaks were in high demand, it seemed, as were cuts off the rump. The girl's plump, steaming breasts and delicately carved sex vanished so fast it was like magic, and the smaller slices off the arms, neck, and torso didn't stay around long either. The thin, tender slices of meat that came off the girl's belly were very popular. Even the feet and hands were handed off to a group of particularly eager looking children, who wasted no time in chowing down on the tasty, if rather chewy and bony treats. Soon enough, all that was left of the poor roasted girl was a dismembered, incomplete skeleton, a pile of unwanted viscera, and a greasy spit. Even the head had been hauled off by someone.
 
 Wanda called over one of the strong young men she'd enlisted earlier, and at her prompting, he picked up the large platter holding the scattered remains of the roast. He carried it over to a nearby dumpster, flipped open the lid with a flick of his well muscled arm, then tilted the platter up and dumped the food waste in with the rest of the garbage. He then brought the platter back to Wanda, who sprayed it clean with a hose and replaced it on the picnic table, beneath the serving rack, ready and waiting for the next spit-roast to be carved. The now empty, used spit was set aside, atop a small stack of others just like it.
 
 After a covetous glance at Penny's sauce covered form, Wanda then took another turn around the cooking pit. She brushed fresh sauce on all of the spit-roasts there, whether they were still squirming or not. All, save for one.
 
 "Guys, I need you again." Wanda called out. "This one's done. Get her on the serving rack, will you?"
 
 Penny had been in a minor fugue as she recovered from her marinade injections, while watching Wanda carve up the last spit-roast and then tend to the ones still over the fires. At the woman's words, however, her mind cleared with a rapid realization. A spit-roast being done meant that a space had just opened up, and a newly open space meant that..
 
 "And bring that one over and put her into place, after that." Wanda ordered, before turning severe and glaring at the two men who had arrive to assist. "And if you drop her, I swear that I will clobber you. Got it?"
 
 "Jeez, okay. Okay." one of the men responded, rolling his eyes. "We'll keep her safe, don't worry so much."
 
 "Jeffery almost dropped the last one." Wanda replied, her glare not diminishing in the slightest at the man's attempt to mollify her.
 
 "Well, we ain't Jeff, so don't sweat it." the other man stated, with an amused snort.
 
 Penny watched them, her trepidation, nervousness, and even fear growing with each passing moment, as they muscled the done roast off of the cooking pit and walked it over to the serving rack. Then, after they had carefully set the steaming, aromatic, and well cooked girl in place, they turned to Penny.
 
 They lifted her just as easily as they had the first time, one on each end of her spit. She had no choice but to hang helplessly between their shoulders, shivering with a mixture of fear and terrible anticipation. As they moved nearer and nearer to the cooking pits, slowly and oh so carefully, Penny could feel the intensity of the heat growing against her sauce covered skin. This was it. It was finally her turn.
 
 She was going to roast.
 
 --9--
 
 Getting roasted on a spit, it turns out, was something like jumping into the water from a very tall rock. From a distance it looked like no big deal, like it was all just in good fun. Exciting even. Up closer, it was a bit more impressive, to see someone else fall from such a large height and make such a big splash afterward. Still, it wasn't something to be unduly worried about, right? Others had gone before, so how bad could it be?
 
 Once one's own turn came, however, and one saw just how different things looked from the top of the rock compared to how they had seemed when at the bottom, well.. That height that had looked insignificant before was suddenly very intimidating, and the fact that so many people had gone before you really didn't matter very much, did it? They weren't you, and YOU were the one whose stomach lurched and plummeted, even as your own body fell toward the water below. The excitement from before remained, sure, but now it was accompanied by raw, breathless fear. The thrill of danger, suddenly made very real and immediate.
 
 Coming in to work everyday, walking past the girls on spits who were rotating away on the display stand and on offer for any who might want to buy them? That had been seeing others jump from the rock in the distance. Taking her own turn on the spit, watching others get picked and secretly enjoying the vicarious thrill, and the accompanying breath of relief, when she made it to the end of a shift and they didn't? Swimming below the rock as others jumped. But actually getting picked out, purchased, and carried out of the store? That had been like being prodded up the slippery face of the rock by insistent friends. Scary, but still exciting, and nothing bad or dangerous had actually happened yet, had it? And then being prepared, filled with marinade and brushed with sauce? That had been like hovering uncertainly at the top of the rock, apprehension fluttering in her stomach and chest as she contemplated the fall before her. But now, though.. finally..
 
 Finally, she was being placed over the coals herself. She had jumped, or been pushed (it didn't much matter at this point) off the rock. She was mid-leap, wondering if perhaps she hadn't made a mistake, if jumping off the rock had been a bit, or maybe even more than a bit, foolish. Only now it was far too late for second thoughts. Gravity had her firmly within its grip, and there wasn't anything left to do but fall.. Fall, just like all the others had before her, into the depths below.
 
 In reality though.. well, it wasn't gravity that was going to have its way with her body, but the flames..
 
 ..and the flames were HOT. Hotter than she could have ever anticipated.
 
 Penny suddenly understood why the girl before her had squirmed so much as she was placed over the fire. There was simply no helping it. The heat, the sheer intensity of it, was nothing like she'd experienced before in her life. The brief flashes of heat she'd felt at the occasional minor burn were nothing, nothing compared to the all encompassing, incontrovertible fact of the HEAT that she was now enveloped within. It drove nearly all thought out of the mind, leaving only base instinct behind. And instinct was yelling, screaming at her to move, to get away from her situation by any means necessary. To wriggle, flail, and squirm as much as she possibly could. To escape..
 
 ..only, there would be no escape for Penny. The spit and her binds made sure of that. No escape.. only the unending, unyielding heat for her now. And strangely enough, the arousal, too. It was still there, somehow, though mostly buried beneath the overwhelming sensation of heat. At least her filet cut wouldn't be dry when it was served.
 
 Perhaps the worst thing about her situation, Penny reflected, after she'd calmed down (if only slightly) from her initial panic, was that she was not being burned. Oh, she was hot. Ridiculously, dangerously hot even, but she wasn't burning. No, what she was experiencing was far worse than merely being burnt to a crisp..
 
 ..She was cooking, alive!
 
 The spit had been placed high enough, and the coals had burned down low enough, that her body was only slowly, slowly being raised up to the proper roasting temperature. Indeed, the mechanism that turned the spit was a fiendishly clever little device, which would also lower the spit each time it completed a rotation, a tiny fraction of an inch at a time. She would cook, that was inevitable at this point, but it would be a slow, inch by inch process as she ticked ever nearer to the coals below.
 
 Slow cooked spit-roasts tasted best, after all. Everyone knew that. It was only now that Penny was coming to appreciate how much additional torment it put the poor roasting girls through, though she doubted that anyone else would think it very significant.
 
 Her breasts were suffering the worst, of course. Her nipples, already so tender and sore from the marinade injections, were the lowest part of her body every time she rotated onto her stomach. They dangled there at the ends of her breasts, and it felt like they were being scorched right off her chest by the coals each time. Not that the rest of her body was faring much better. The smooth skin of her legs, her trim belly, her arms, and even her face all experienced nearly the same degree of heat.
 
 Then she would slowly rotate on her spit, and her front side would get a brief, blessed reprieve from some of the heat. The relief of which she was prevented from enjoying very much by the fact that her backside, most notably her firm and generous bottom, would then receive its own share of heat in turn. It was maddening, the incessant heat, and the only thing she could do was writhe, wriggle, and squirm helplessly in the face of it.
 
 Penny would snatch the occasional glance around when she could, wrenching her eyes open briefly despite the way the hot air clawed at them. A desperate attempt to catch the eye of someone who might be inclined to help her. Not that anyone would, of course. She was right where she belonged, now, and she knew it. And so did everyone else.
 
 She saw Wanda standing over her right after she'd been put on to cook, smiling proudly and looking more than a little hungry, before her chef turned away to carve up the roast whose place over the fire Penny had taken. The cooked girl's body shrank a little more each time Penny forced herself to take another quick sideways glance at Wanda, as the cook worked on reducing it down to edible portions.
 
 Looking forward was easier, though the only thing to really see was the face of the girl who had gone over the fires before her. She was right in front of Penny, as she too turned on a spit over her own fire, squirming as she slowly roasted. The girl had been cooking for quite a bit longer than Penny, however. She had a head start of at least a half an hour, and her skin was already beginning to shade from red into the earliest stages of brown. The tips of her breasts were sizzling slightly, leaking bubbling marinade down into the coals below. All of which contributed to her continuing, if slowly ebbing, wiggling and futile struggles.
 
 Looking at her, Penny realized what the little scraps of meat she'd had to scrub and scrape off of some spits when cleaning them were from. The girl's lips were frying on the hot steel pole protruding from her mouth. Doubtless they'd eventually stick and burn, if she was left over the fire long enough, and equally doubtless her lower lips were probably experiencing the same thing. The heat absorbed and conducted by the spit would be cooking the girl from the inside, even as the coals cooked her from the outside.
 
 Penny supposed that it was just one more thing she had to look forward to herself, in her own short future as a spit-roast. She could already feel the metal between her lips and in her sex heating up. It was only a matter of time before her own flesh was browning and crisping, just like the flesh of the girl in front of her was.
 
 Penny wriggled in the heat again, pointlessly. She couldn't help it.
 
 The only thing that seemed mostly unaffected by the situation Penny was in, by the overwhelming, ever present heat, was her hearing. In fact, it seemed like she could hear just about everything around her with utter clarity. Over the low crackle of the burning coals and the sizzling of roasting meat, of course.
 
 Penny could hear the women at the serving tables, and the extended family members they were feeding. The sound of plates being filled with salads, fruit, baked potatoes, pasta, and above all freshly roasted meat. The low, muted buzz of a dozen conversations held over good food. The happiness of everyone at the reunion, as they talked and ate and reminisced, all while a half dozen girls cooked over the fires just a few yards away. Wanda she could hear most clearly of all, as the woman hummed and talked to herself, or occasionally chatted with a relative passing by.
 
 While the people around her celebrated, Penny cooked. She had no choice.
 
 --10--
 
 It was during Penny's first basting while over the coals, just as Wanda had begun applying her second layer of bar-Be-Que sauce (And wow, cold sauce hitting overheated flesh stung! No wonder the other roasts had squirmed so much each time.), that one of the men that had been helping her chef lug meat around when she needed it wandered up to the cooking pit.
 
 "Hey Wanda, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to be heading out soon." he said, as he came to stand on the other side of Penny, directly across from Wanda. "A lot of the others are going to be leaving pretty soon, too. The younger kids are getting tired, so we need to get them to the hotel rooms before they turn cranky and crash."
 
 "Well, who's going to help me with the roasts, then?" Wanda asked, a frown crossing her features as she paused in her work, brush in hand.
 
 "Well, Jeff said he'd be around for awhile.." the man shrugged. "You can probably get help from him."
 
 "Jeff.." Wanda sighed, shaking her head. "He'll drop half the roasts!"
 
 "Well, most everyone is leaving soon, so it isn't like it would be a big deal even if he did." came the reasonable reply. "Honestly, you probably shouldn't even bother with these last few.. Just finish up the ones that are already close to being done. No one is probably going to be around to eat the rest in a few hours anyway."
 
 "But.. what about the others? Or her?" Wanda protested, waving her brush in the direction of the last spitted girl waiting on the steel rack, who hadn't even been prepared yet.
 
 "I dunno.." the man said, shrugging again. "Maybe try to return them?"
 
 "Return them? They're half cooked!"
 
 "Well, she isn't." the man replied, pointing to the unprepared girl on the rack, before looking down at Penny herself. "And this one looks like you just put her on. Barely singed at all. I bet they'd take them back.. er, maybe anyway."
 
 "Grahh!" Wanda groaned, tugging at her hair with the hand not holding the sauce brush. "I wish you guys had let me know this an hour or two ago! I wouldn't have even bothered to pick up the last three or four girls!"
 
 "Sorry. You know how hard it is to predict how much people are gonna eat."
 
 "Damn.. I was really looking forward to this one.." Wanda pouted, sounding rather put out, as she poked Penny in one of her swollen, dangling breasts with the brush.
 
 "Well, you can still cook her, if you like.." the man allowed, with yet another shrug. "But she won't be done until close to midnight and you'll probably be the only one left in the park. It's up to you.."
 
 "No.. no, you're right.." Wanda sighed, disgustedly, as she shook her head. "Help me get her off the fire, then.."
 
 Penny could hardly believe her ears. Was this really happening?
 
 "Any of the others, too?" the man asked, before pointing at the girl directly in front of Penny, the one whose name Penny thought started with "V". "What about her? She's still kicking some."
 
 Wanda looked over at the girl, who squirmed and looked right back, eyes blinking slowly but hopefully, pleadingly, at the woman who'd put her where she was.
 
 "Nah, she's already starting to brown. I doubt they'd take her back like that." Wanda replied, shaking her head and crushing the girl's obvious hopes. "May as well leave her on. Someone might be around to eat her, you never know."
 
 The girl's wide, desperate eyes followed Penny as she was hauled up out of the heat by Wanda and the unknown man. The cool air of early evening felt absolutely frigid on Penny's overheated skin as her spit was placed upon the steel preparation rack, right next to the other, unprepared girl. She was gently dripping bar-Be-Que sauce, which was still steaming from the heat of the coals, onto the ground below. The other girl, the one still on the cooking pit, continued to rotate over the flames, struggling feebly and hopelessly, tears sizzling as they ran down her browning cheeks.
 
 --11--
 
 Two more men were conscripted to help haul the spitted, but uncooked girl back to the market, while Wanda and the first guy carried Penny herself.
 
 "Mmm.. this one DOES smell good.." the man commented as they walked, his face right behind Penny's bare, sauce covered feet.
 
 He gave her sole a curious lick, then leaned forward to nibble lightly on her sauce covered toes. It both stung and tickled at the same time, as her heat-irritated nerves were agitated by his inquisitive lips and tongue, and Penny shivered and squirmed in response.
 
 "Is that honey I taste?"
 
 "Yeah.." Wanda replied, sounding a little sad. "I worked hard on this one.. I really wanted to see how she was going to taste.. Especially those magnificent breasts of hers. And her filet.. mmm.."
 
 "Ah, well.." the man replied, bracingly. "There's always tomorrow, or Sunday. You've got all weekend to cook up another just like her! I sure wouldn't mind trying some, when you do."
 
 "What if the market won't take them back?" Wanda asked a few moments later, as they neared the exit to the park.
 
 "I suppose that we'll just have to toss them, then. There's plenty of room in the dumpsters, still."
 
 "That seems like a bit of a waste." Wanda mused, sounding unhappy at the prospect. "Wouldn't it be better to just cook them up and serve them as cold leftovers tomorrow morning?"
 
 "I doubt anyone is going to particularly want leftovers, rather than freshly roasted meat." the man replied. "Also, we don't really have anywhere to keep them. And, on top of that, you'd have to stay up most of the night to do it. You're going to burn yourself out if you do that, and we've still go two more long days of cooking ahead of us. Don't try to do too much and overwork yourself the first day of the reunion."
 
 "..You're right." Wanda sighed. "Thanks. I suppose that I needed to hear that. It's only a couple of spit-roasts, after all. Just a few hundred dollars, either way. I shouldn't stress over something so unimportant."
 
 "There you go. Don't sweat the small stuff." the man agreed easily. "You're doing a great job, Wanda. Everyone was talking about how great the roasted meat is this year."
 
 "Thanks!" Wanda replied, happily.
 
 --12--
 
 "I'm sorry, but we don't take returns on spit-roasts." Sarah said apologetically, eying both Penny and the other spitted girl critically as they lay on the group's shoulders. "Especially ones that have already been cooked. The only thing I can do is give you your deposit for the spits back."
 
 "Aww, are you sure?" Wanda asked cajolingly, as she plead her case. "This one hardly spent any time over the fire, she's barely singed, and that one never even went anywhere near the cooking pits. They're still good."
 
 "Well.." Sarah replied, sounding unconvinced.
 
 "Please?" Wanda added, hopefully.
 
 "Wait here a moment." Sarah sighed, sounding resigned. "Let me go get my manager and see what she says."
 
 Wanda and the three men accompanying her stood and waited, while bits of sauce occasionally slid down Penny's breasts and dripped off of her nipples onto the floor, for Sarah to return.
 
 "What seems to be the problem?" Lauren asked, as Sarah returned with her in tow.
 
 "We'd like to return these spit-roasts. We wound up buying a few more than we needed today." Wanda explained, doing her best to make her request sound reasonable.
 
 "Hmm.. we normally don't take returns on spit-roasts.." Lauren hummed, as she stepped out from behind the counter to inspect both Penny and the other spitted girl. "This one looks okay, I suppose, but that one looks half-cooked."
 
 "She was over the coals for less than fifteen minutes." Wanda retorted. "She's fine, I promise."
 
 "Well.. I suppose that we could make an exception." Lauren said, huffing her breath out slightly. "Just this once. You have the receipt still?"
 
 "Right here!" Wanda replied, digging a hand into her pocket and pulling out a rumpled up slip of paper.
 
 "That looks to be in order.." Lauren commented, before handing the receipt over to Sarah. "Go ahead and give them their refund. I'll go get someone to help us take them into the back."
 
 "Great, thanks!" Wanda said.
 
 Lauren returned with two more store employees just as the transaction was concluding. Penny and her companion were returned back to the store in exchange for the two hundred, seventy-five dollars that Wanda had paid for them. Sarah and Lauren shouldered Penny's spit, while the two male employees took the other girl.
 
 "Have a nice evening." Lauren said, as the happy little group of satisfied customers left the market.
 
 "Thanks, you too!" Wanda called back. "See you tomorrow!"
 
 "Why'd you let them return their purchases, boss?" Sarah asked, a little breathlessly, as they hefted their heavy loads back into the rear of the meat department. "We don't normally take returns on spit-roasts at all."
 
 "Sarah, we've made almost as much money on spit-roasts just today as we did all last month." Lauren chuckled, as she waited for the two in front of her to push open the doors into the chilled prep room. "For customers like them, I'm more than willing to go the extra mile. Besides, the spit-roasts are probably still in a saleable condition. We won't lose any money."
 
 "Even the half-cooked one?" Sarah asked, sounding skeptical.
 
 "Well, maybe not that one.." Lauren allowed, glancing back at Penny's sauce covered, impaled form. "..but if she isn't, then we can just toss her. It's not a big deal."
 
 "You two.." Lauren said to the two men, as both Penny and the other girl were dumped roughly onto one of the metal prep tables. "Get that one off her spit, then see if this one can be salvaged at all. If not, take her to the dumpster out back. Make sure not to leave the spit in her when you dump her, though, they're valuable."
 
 "Sure, boss." one of the male employees replied. "You got it."
 
 "Alright, closing time is soon. I'll leave you to it." Lauren sighed. "What a long day. Thanks for pulling some overtime for me, guys."
 
 --13--
 
 "Man, finally." one of the male employees groaned, as he slid his engorged member into the bottom of the bound and still mostly spitted girl next to Penny. "I'd given up hope that any spit-roasts were going to come back, tonight."
 
 "Yeah. Overtime and no spit-roasts to enjoy during break? What a bummer." the other replied, as he forced his own cock down the girl's partially cleared throat. "You wanna go tell the others once you finish up?"
 
 "Yeah, sure. It's not gonna take me long anyway. I've been feeling pent up all day."
 
 True to his word, he grunted and thrust hard into the helpless girl's rump only a few moments later, making her squirm on her spit as he ejaculated up her bottom.
 
 "Damn, nice.." he sighed. "I may have to have another go, once the other fellas have had their turn."
 
 "You could use the other one, before we chuck her out."
 
 "Nah, I don't want to get gunk all over me."
 
 Those words set the tone for the next hour of Penny's life. She watched a long procession of male store employees come and go (literally) from the meat department's prep room. Word had apparently spread that there was a couple of returned spit-roasts available for use, and it seemed that no-one wanted to miss their chance before the store closed for the night.
 
 Penny, however, was shunned. While the girl next to her got used time and again, so much so that her eyes had eventually rolled back up into her head as she shivered and twitched feebly on her spit, Penny could only lay and watch. Her sauce covered, half-cooked body was messy enough that it seemed the men would rather simply wait for their turn with the other girl instead. Penny was a bit torn about how to feel about this. On one hand, not having to deal with a dozen or so cocks up her butt and down her throat was nice, but on the other hand.. Well, she'd had a stressful day, to put it mildly, and was feeling a bit "pent up", herself. A little stress relief wouldn't have been unwelcome, especially if they decided to toss her out rather than untie her, which was seeming more and more likely given the occasional comments she heard thrown her way. May as well get some while the getting was good, as they say, before it was too late.
 
 Finally, it was down to the original two men, thrusting away enthusiastically at each end of the girl, both on their second (or third) turn with her. They finished at nearly the same time, with almost identical sighs of pleasure.
 
 "Whew.. I needed that.." the man at the front of the girl sighed, as he slowly rolled his hips a few more times, grinding against the girl's face. "I suppose we should untie her now, and yank her spit. Still gotta throw that other one away, too."
 
 Penny, who had been laying still on the table top, experiencing a strange mixture of apprehension, jealous arousal, and utter boredom, squirmed at these words. They were going to throw her away, like garbage!
 
 "I don't feel like it." the other protested, as he withdrew his member with a wet, soggy sounding plop from the other girl's well used bottom. "I should've been home six hours ago. My wife is going to be pissed. Let someone else deal with it."
 
 "Well, at least pop the spit out of this one then." the first said, patting the girl's cum splattered cheek. "Then let's go."
 
 The man at the back grumbled as he did up his trousers, then planted his foot on the girl's bottom and yanked on her spit. It slid out of her easily, the entire length pulling quickly through her sex and making her wriggle in place and curl her toes one last time. The other guy flicked open a box cutter he produced from his pocket, then casually sliced through the cords binding the girl's hands and arms together. The girl's limbs flopped weakly to the table top as he repeated to process with the bindings on her legs.
 
 Then the men left, leaving Penny still spitted, bound, and alone, with only a girl fucked into near unconsciousness for company.
 
 It really just wasn't her day. At least they hadn't put her in the dumpster.
 
 --14--
 
 The girl next to her came around a few minutes later. She clawed at her throat feebly for a moment, before she managed to extract the port that had allowed her to breath while spitted. She no longer needed it now, though, and dropped the little metal doughnut to the table with a clang.
 
 "Urggh.." she croaked, voice thick with disuse (and probably congealed semen) after the little not-wound at the base of her throat had sealed itself up. "..fffuck."
 
 Then she staggered off to the cleaning room, legs bowed out oddly and clutching at her abused, tender, and rather messy bottom, with hardly a glance at Penny. Penny heard the noise of one of the shower heads spraying water for a few minutes, not to mention the sounds of repeated gargling, then the girl, still soaking wet and dripping, staggered back out. She hardly seemed to notice anything around her as she made her way toward the door.
 
 Desperately, Penny wiggled and gasped as much as she could. She didn't want to be left like this over night! Come morning, the butchers would take one look at her, curse, and then toss her straight into the garbage. They hated things that dirtied up their workspace.
 
 Her movements managed to attract the fucked-out girl's attention at the last moment, and she turned a bleary eye back toward Penny. Then she heaved a sigh, and trudged back to the table. The girl undid the stabilizing spike buried into Penny's bottom, then took hold of the rear end of Penny's spit and heaved. The long steel pole, which had restrained and defined Penny for most of the past day, slid out of her. The feeling, the sudden freedom of movement, was exquisite, and she fell loosely against the tabletop. She was finally able to assume a position that wasn't imposed by the rigid spit that had been within her, and it felt absolutely amazing to simply relax comfortably.
 
 As Penny lay there, just breathing and relaxing and feeling the hole the Q-knife edged spit had made through her reseal itself, she heard the girl who had unstuck her pull open a drawer and dig around inside it for a moment. Then there the snick of a blade being unfolded, and her arms and legs were freed from their binds. The girl then dropped the knife beside her, and left without another word.
 
 Penny was free. Penny was alive! She had made it! Even after being sold and prepared and practically cooked, and then almost thrown away, she'd still somehow made it. It almost didn't feel real, she thought, as she pushed herself up off the table and took a few staggering steps of her own.
 
 Now, time for a shower!
 
 --15--
 
 Lauren was waiting for her when Penny exited the cleaning room, feeling much more human now that she was free of bar-Be-Que sauce. Her manager was looking at the table she'd been laying on only a few minutes previously, with all its various splatters of semen and sauce, with an expression of disgust on her face, shaking her head.
 
 "Penny, perfect." Lauren said. "Thanks for putting in that overtime today. I really appreciate it."
 
 Her boss was talking to her like she hadn't just spent most of the day on a spit, been half cooked, and then almost been thrown out as waste. If she was surprised to find Penny de-spitted and walking around under her own power, and not still tied up and in a garbage can somewhere, she didn't show it.
 
 Honestly, it wasn't that much different than usual. Bosses.
 
 "Look, I know you've had a long day, but can you spend a few minutes cleaning this up for me?" Lauren asked, arching an eyebrow expectantly. "The guys will never let me hear the end of it if they come in tomorrow morning to a mess like this. Oh, and scrub down those spits, too, would you?"
 
 "Um.. sure." Penny replied, as she stood there naked and dripping, her skin reddened from the heat of the cooking pits, and her breasts and sex still puffy and sore with injected marinade.
 
 "Great, thanks." Lauren said, as she turned to leave. "And be sure to come in nice and early tomorrow. If we have another day like today, then we're going to need all hands on deck. You girls will be on pole duty while the guys do their best to run the store. The spit-roasts won't sell themselves."
 
 Penny rolled her eyes at her boss' back as she left. She'd just worked overtime and now Lauren expected her to come in early the next day. Typical. And of course she'd have to clean up the mess the men made, too. Why wouldn't she? Thankfully, the splatters on the table, both sauce and semen, were fresh enough to wipe up fairly easily. The used spits too were much easier to clean than normal, though Penny had to scrub harder to remove the sauce that had started to bake onto her own number eleven spit. She didn't even bother to dress before doing the work, since the store was now closed and barely anyone was still around. Besides, nude girls wandering around in the meat preparation room weren't exactly uncommon anyway.
 
 It felt a bit strange to be scrubbing her own spit down, after she'd nearly cooked on it. The thought made her shiver and her aching nipples and clit twinge, as they perked up and hardened. She'd licked up a little bit of the sauce, since she'd only gotten little splashes of it while on the spit. It was good enough to make her tummy, which had been completely empty almost all day, rumble loudly.
 
 Penny had spent most of the day as food, only to wind up practically starving herself at the end of it. Figures.
 
 --16--
 
 The feeling of surreality was back, as Penny walked home through the park after closing and locking up the market. She was on the same path she'd been on earlier that day, while on the spit and being carried off to cook. Heck, even just wearing clothes and shoes felt a bit odd, after spending the majority of the day nude and completely exposed. Not that she was wearing everything that she'd worn in to work that morning, though. The swollen tenderness in her breasts and loins made her forgo her bra and panties. Even the feel of the thin fabric of her light shirt brushing across her sore nipples as she walked was enough to make her breath catch.
 
 She followed the course Wanda and the men who'd carried her had taken, and she ended up right back at the cooking pits. Considering that it was well after dark, she expected the place to be abandoned, as the rest of the park mostly was. To her surprise, however, Wanda was still there, puttering around the picnic tables, cleaning up and putting things away, even as one last spit-roast still turned slowly over a low bed of coals.
 
 Penny watched the woman, who had very nearly cooked and eaten her earlier, as she finished up her cleaning. Wanda rinsed her hands clean, dried them off, then sighed and moved to stand before her last, lonely spit-roast. She looked down at it contemplatively for a few moments, then turned and saw Penny.
 
 "Oh, hey.." she said, after peering at Penny's face for a moment in the streetlamp lit twilight. "Are you here with the family reunion, or just passing by?"
 
 "Just.. just passing by." Penny answered, then added. "I smelled your roast."
 
 "It smells good. Really good." she said, honestly, as her stomach gurgled.
 
 "Thanks." Wanda replied, smiling. "Hey, would you like some?"
 
 "Ah, I wouldn't want to impose.." Penny stated, hesitantly.
 
 "Oh, it's no trouble.. none at all." Wanda said, brightening. "It's all just leftovers, anyway. I'm probably going to have to toss it out. There's no-one left to eat her."
 
 "In fact, I'd really appreciate your help even getting her off the coals. I was afraid that I might have to leave her there overnight. All my assistants bailed on me." Wanda continued. "Then you can have as much meat off her as you want."
 
 Penny's stomach grumbled again as the enticing aroma of roasted meat wafted past her nose, and her mouth watered.
 
 "Okay, sure."
 
 "Great. Just let me get the platter ready."
 
 Penny watched as Wanda pulled out the big carving platter, which she'd apparently cleaned and stored away earlier, and set it on the nearest picnic table. Then she handed Penny a set of oven mitt gloves.
 
 "Here you go, you'll need these. The spit'll be hot!" Wanda commented, as she led Penny over to the roasting girl. "You wouldn't want to get burned."
 
 Penny didn't comment on the irony of the statement. Instead, she just joined the chef in hefting the spit-roast off the cooking pit, and helped Wanda carry it over to the table.
 
 "Breasts, or butt?" Wanda asked. "Normally I have a little rack to carve off of, but it's put away so we'll just plop her right down on the platter. So, which do you prefer, breasts or butt? We'll have that side facing up."
 
 "Umm.. Breasts, I suppose." Penny said.
 
 "Ha, good answer." Wanda replied, with a little wink. "My kind of girl!"
 
 They set the roast down on the platter, face up, and Penny stood back for a moment as Wanda drew the hot spit out of the steaming girl.
 
 "There we are.." Wanda commented, as she set the spit aside. "Let me grab some utensils, then we can tuck in!"
 
 As Penny sat down at the picnic table, right across from Wanda and level with the roast's chest, she finally got a good look at the cooked girl's face.
 
 It was that girl, the one who had been put on to cook right before Penny. The girl that Penny had watched sizzle and brown right in front of her. The one who had been left, still alive and squirming on her spit, when Penny had been returned to the market. The girl whose name began with a V..
 
 "Valerie!" Penny exclaimed, suddenly remembering.
 
 "Hmm..?" Wanda asked, as she passed Penny a set of knife and fork.
 
 "Oh.. her name was Valerie." Penny explained, motioning toward the roasted girl. "I.. use to work with her, at the market."
 
 "Ah." Wanda said, her voice indifferent.
 
 Penny had the feeling that a spit-roast's name wasn't very important to the woman. Perhaps she was right. Valerie was just meat now, nothing more. Whatever she had been in the past didn't matter.
 
 "Well, dig in!" Wanda commanded, with a gleam in her eye. "Eat whatever you like, as much as you like."
 
 Penny obeyed. She had the feeling that Wanda was someone who took great pleasure in seeing someone enjoy the things she'd cooked.
 
 She placed the sharp tines of her fork over the girl's nipple, then pressed them in slowly and firmly. A gush of steam, rich and aromatic, smelling of mesquite and other spices, along with a rivulet of juice burst forth when she did so. Penny's mouth was watering so much that she was almost drooling, and she used her knife to carefully slice away the darkened tip of the breast.
 
 Penny lifted the juicy bit of meat up to her nose and inhaled, savoring the exquisite, savory aroma. The last time she had seen the girl, her nipples had been sizzling and dripping marinade into the coals. Now, one of those very same nipples was on Penny's fork, looking crispy and utterly delicious.
 
 Penny brought her fork to her mouth, and took the bit of steaming girlflesh into her mouth..
 
 ..Heaven, utter heaven. The roasted nipple was perfect. As crispy as she'd expected on the outside, but even more juicy and tender than she could have hoped for on the inside. The spice of the sauce and marinade complimented perfectly with the natural flavors of the meat.
 
 "Oh my gahd.." Penny mumbled, as she chewed her mouthful of Valerie's breast meat.
 
 "Good?" Wanda inquired, one eyebrow quirked up and grinning knowingly, even as she sliced into the breast on her own side of the table.
 
 "So good. Thank you.." Penny sighed, after she'd swallowed. "I'm famished. I've hardly had anything all day, and this is hitting the spot perfectly."
 
 "They keep you busy over at the market?" Wanda asked, obviously having noticed Penny's store uniform.
 
 "Ugh.." Penny replied, through another mouthful of meat. "I had to work so much overtime today. Almost worth it, though, for this.."
 
 Penny looked down at the cooked face of the roast.. at Valerie's face. She remembered the tears the girl had shed when Penny had been given an unexpected reprieve.. and Valerie hadn't. She also thought back to how it had felt to cook herself; the heat, the pain.. the frustrated arousal despite it all. How much worse had it been for the girl before her, who had gone on to cook for far longer than Penny had? How much had she suffered, stuck there on her spit, squirming helplessly as she roasted alive, before the end?
 
 However much it amounted to.. it was completely worth it, Penny reflected. She took another slice off of Valerie's breast, and moaned in pleasure when she placed it into her mouth. The juices literally made her shiver in near orgasmic bliss as they ran across her taste buds, her own sore nipples perking up painfully beneath her shirt.
 
 "Overtime, huh? You must be pretty exhausted, then.." Wanda replied, nodding at her knowingly. The woman's voice unexpectedly low, almost husky as she gazed at the suddenly visible nubs of Penny's nipples. "I worked pretty hard today, too. Want to come back to my hotel room with me? Get some.. rest? After we've satisfied our appetites, of course."
 
 Penny almost dropped her knife and fork, glancing up quickly at the other woman, who only smirked slyly at her surprised expression.
 
 "I.." Penny started, before swallowing. "..I think I might like that."
 
 --17--
 
 Most of Valerie ended up in the dumpster. Penny would have felt bad about it, but she was far too distracted by Wanda to give the poor girl's ultimate fate much thought. They took a few bits for later, though. The breast meat left over after their hastily concluded meal was sliced off and put into a food container, along with the girl's still steaming, rather juicy sex, and a nice portion of tender inner thigh for good measure. The rest of the roast got unceremoniously dumped, the girl's practically whole and uneaten body sliding off the platter to join all of the rest of the day's garbage in the bottom of the dumpster.
 
 Almost everything else was already packed away, so it was a simple matter to rinse off the now empty platter, and load up into Wanda's nearby car. The trip to the woman's hotel room wasn't long, which was fortunate. They barely made it inside before Penny's shirt was forcefully stripped from her body.
 
 "I've been waiting all day for these.." Wanda growled, as she licked her lips and regarded Penny's still swollen nipples hungrily.
 
 "You.. you recognized them.. me, huh?" Penny asked, as bit breathlessly as the woman's hands roamed across the tender flesh of her chest, squeezing and kneading appraisingly, possessively.
 
 "Of course.." Wanda replied, lowering her mouth towards Penny's left nipple. "How could I not? You were the most delicious looking roast I saw all day. You can't imagine how disappointed I was to have to return you."
 
 "R-really? Ah!" Penny gasped out, as hungry lips enveloped her tip.
 
 "Oh yes.." Wanda moaned, half in response to Penny's question, half in reaction to her taste. "God, you're so sweet, girl. If I couldn't have these on my plate, at least I can have them like this."
 
 "Ahh!" Penny cried out, cradling her arms around Wanda's head, as the woman began ravishing her breasts, sucking and nibbling greedily.
 
 She gasped again, as Wanda used her hands and lips aggressively, the woman apparently determined to draw out all of the marinade and honey that she had earlier injected. It seemed that she was going to experience being eaten tonight regardless of the fact that she'd never actually finished roasting, Penny realized.
 
 As she arched her chest into Wanda's mouth and moaned in pleasure, she couldn't find it in herself to complain too much about that fact.
 
 --18--
 
 "Heading in to work?" Wanda asked.
 
 It was the next morning. Far, far too early in the morning, in fact. Especially considering just how little sleeping they'd actually done. But Penny had to be in early, just as her boss had asked.
 
 "Yeah. They expect to get slammed on spit-roasts again today.. for some reason." Penny replied, shooting an arch look and a little grin over at her previous night's lover, as she began dressing after her shower. "They're going to need all us girls that they can get."
 
 "Mmm.. yeah, you could do that.." Wanda said, regarding Penny's still mostly nude form with half-lidded, lustful eyes.
 
 She didn't sound opposed to the idea. It would probably mean Penny back on a spit and at her mercy before very long, after all.
 
 "..or, you could blow them off to come help me. I could use an assistant in the cooking pits." Wanda countered.
 
 "Really?" Penny asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise at the other woman. She'd thought that Wanda would have loved to have a chance to finish off what she'd started the day before, and that she probably thought of her as little more than "the roast that got away". Maybe she'd been wrong, though.
 
 "Really."
 
 "Well.." Penny said, hesitating a moment before deciding. "I suppose that I.."
 
 --19--
 
 The spit clanged as it was dropped into place, jarring Penny from the inside out as she was put onto the display rack. She squirmed as much as she could against its unyielding strength, feeling the cords that bound her arms and legs firmly in place, helpless and vulnerable. Hardly had she begun to spin, to better show off her flesh to any potential buyers, then she felt a hand come to rest on her waist.
 
 "This one." came Wanda's voice, thick with eagerness and delight as she patted Penny possessively. "This one first."
 
 "I'm not letting this sweet little bit of meat get away again."
 
 Penny's heart lurched in her chest in excitement, in fear.. and in arousal. She had made her choice.. the only choice, really. Even though she knew what would soon come, exactly what torments she would have to endure in a way that few roasts ever would.. it was right. She was right where she belonged.
 
 "Let's get her to the cooking pits, boys!" Wanda ordered, after purchasing the rights to Penny's body once more. "I'm hungry. The quicker we get her on to cook, quicker we can eat!"
 
END
 
Author's Note:
 
 I had fun with this one, though it took me a long time to complete. I love the idea of a world where becoming meat is as easy and normalized as it is here. Even better, I like the fluidity of the girls' status, being normal employees most of the time, then regarded as just store inventory, that much more product for sale once spitted, and then back to being regular women afterward (assuming they make it through their shift, that is). The Q-knives help with this, as they render getting spitted an easily reversible process.
 
 I have an image that helped inspire me throughout the writing of this. It's an old CG render, low quality with rather simple, outdated models that I picked up over a decade ago from pulptoon, but for some reason it just spoke to me. I'm not sure who the original artist is. A cropped version is the thumbnail, if anyone is interested.
 
 Alternative ending included, because this world and these characters are fun. I was going to have a short one where Penny got thrown away instead of being returned to the market too, but honestly, this darn thing is long enough already, ha ha. Even if the idea of someone getting chucked out as garbage, left to squirm while still bound up helplessly in the dumpster, is surprisingly arousing to me for some reason. Ah well, maybe next time.
 
 --20--
 
 "This one.." Wanda said, selecting one of the squirming, struggling roasts laying helpless on the display rack. "..and this one."
 
 The second spitted girl Wanda picked out was a familiar sight to Penny. It was Sarah, the girl who had been at the register when Penny had been sold the previous day. She was, ironically enough, mounted on the number eleven spit.
 
 The two guys with them grabbed the first girl, while Wanda and Penny took the second. Sarah's weight upon her shoulder, rather than being a burden, felt like a promise. A one hundred and eleven pound promise (according to her price tag), to be precise.. A promise of many, many helpings of delicious roasted meat. All they needed to do was get her back to the park, slathered up in sauce, and over the coals.
 
 "Alright, let's take these to the cooking pits." Wanda ordered, turning her head back to wink at Penny. "This meat isn't going to cook itself, after all!"
 
 Penny grinned back, easily ignoring Sarah's wide eyed, rather stunned look, as the girl really realized just what was in store for her. It was fun, being on this side of the cooking pit for a change. Her stomach growled, and she licked her lips as she contemplated all the smooth, lean flesh their new roast had to offer.
 
 Wanda and she had both elected to skip breakfast. They had discarded the portions of the previous night's roast, that they hadn't already eaten in between bouts of lovemaking, in favor of waiting for fresh meat at lunch instead. Who wanted cold leftovers, anyway? And who cared really, if a little girlmeat went to waste? After all, there was plenty more for sale at the market.
 
 --21--
 
 "What do you mean, you're out?" Wanda asked, sounding shocked.
 
 "Look, I'm really sorry, but we're just.. out." the young man explained, his voice cracking with a combination of youth and chagrin. "That's that last one we have. You've run completely through the rest of our stock!"
 
 Wanda didn't look happy at this news.
 
 "Can I speak to your manager?" she asked, trying to sound reasonable. "I'm sure there must be something that can be done."
 
 "I am the manager!" he said, sounding more than a little put out at this fact. "The junior manager, but the only one we have left right now."
 
 Lauren, who was on the spit Wanda and Penny were carrying, looked a bit miffed about that fact, though she didn't say anything. Not that she could, with two inches of steel blocking her windpipe. They must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel, if Lauren had had to take a turn on pole duty, Penny realized. It was probably why her (now former) manager was glaring at her. Her request for time off had come at an inconvenient time for the store.
 
 Well, too bad for them. Cooking up roasts with Wanda for the past day and a half had been more fun than she'd had in ages. The nights hadn't been too bad, either..
 
 "You don't have anything left, at all?" Wanda wheedled. "We're still going to need quite a few more for our Sunday evening sendoff feast tonight! What will we do?"
 
 "We'll have some more stock in a few days.." the boy-manager explained, shaking his head. "..but until then, I'm afraid we can't help you any more. I'm sorry."
 
 "Well.." Wanda said, as the manager turned to leave. "Crud."
 
 --22--
 
 Lauren was doing well over the coals. Still squirming, but starting to glaze up nicely. Penny was looking forward to seeing how she tasted. It wasn't every day that you got to eat your boss.
 
 Wanda wasn't paying any attention to the last, lonely roast though. Her eyes were on the bevy of girls standing around the cooking pits. Apparently, word had gotten out to the families at the reunion that the meat was running low. A request for volunteers had gone out half an hour before, and these girls were the result. Some looked excited, some bored. Some looked nervous or uncomfortable, and a few looked downright mutinous, apparently having been "volunteered" rather than volunteering on their own. Not a one was over the age of twenty, and many were quite a bit younger.
 
 In short, they were perfect material out of which to make some tender, delicious roasts.
 
 "Okay, girls.." Wanda said, looking around at all the potential girlmeat before her. "Thanks for volunteering!"
 
 There were a few groans at this, mostly from the unhappy looking ones.
 
 "Now, the only problem we have is how to cook you.." Wanda mused, tapping her lower lip thoughtfully. "We've got a half dozen spits that we haven't returned yet, but they don't have the right tips on.."
 
 "Plus the meat hasn't been cleaned out yet. They're still dirty on the inside." Penny added, earning herself a few dirty looks in return.
 
 "Yeah, that too.." Wanda agreed, nodding her head. "Can't very well serve dirty meat.."
 
 "You know.." Penny began, gaining Wanda's attention. "..we might be able to talk the market into prepping the girls for us. They've got all the tools and equipment for it already. I bet they'd do it for a flat fee.. or maybe a percentage of the meat."
 
 "Hmm.. that could work.."
 
 --23--
 
 "Yeah.. we can clean and spit them for you.." the head butcher (the same one that had spit Penny only a couple days previously, in fact) said, as he glanced across the counter and over Wanda and Penny to look at the gaggle of nervous, fidgeting girls behind them. "Gonna cost you, though. We're low on meat ourselves, so I'm going to want one third of them for our own stock."
 
 Behind the head butcher, through a wide, glass-less window, several more butchers were working on slabs of meat. Using heavy cleavers, sharp saws, and wicked looking fillet knifes, they parted out halves of fresh farmgirl meat into easily package-able portions. A couple of the soon-to-be-roast girls looked on, gulping while watching one particularly enthusiastic man use a cleaver to energetically separate some ribs, wincing at each loud "wack!" of steel parting bone and flesh.
 
 "Would you take a quarter? I need as many as I can get for the feast, tonight." Wanda countered, slipping her hand beneath the closest girl's shirt to lift it up, squeezing her now visible, and rather generous chest. "They're all prime, see? More than worth your time, even for just a quarter of them."
 
 "Well.."
 
 "Ah, come on.. Please? Do us a favor?" Wanda asked, bending the surprised girl over to show off her thighs and bottom. She slipped down the girl's short shorts, baring her rump and giving it a hearty slap, eliciting a surprised squawk, which everyone ignored.
 
 "Oh, alright." the head butcher agreed, not sounding too upset at having been bargained down. "They do look pretty prime. Okay, boys! We've got some roasts to spit! Do a good job on them, not least because a quarter of them are ours."
 
 The girls in question looked a bit put out at having had a portion of their number simply bargained away, but no one bothered listening to their protests. As the other butchers stripped and herded the girls into the cleaning room, Penny turned to the head butcher.
 
 "Hey, if the roasts you pick out as your share don't get sold today, what happens to them?" she asked, curiously. "Would you let them go, like with us employees, or what?"
 
 "Nah." the head butcher replied, shrugging. "You girls are store assets, completely aside from your value as meat. These ones will just be stock. If they don't sell today, we'll simply put them in the livestock cages in back. They'll sell eventually."
 
 "Oh.. I didn't realize we had any of those.." Penny replied thoughtfully.
 
 "We don't use them much. It's usually much easier and cheaper to just pop a few female employees onto spits, rather than go through the trouble and expense of housing live girls on site, even the docile farm grown ones." the butcher explained. "We generally only bother to stock up on them during the winter holidays, when people want whole oven roasters instead of spit roasts. You'll see for yourself, if you last that long."
 
 Seeing as how Penny had only been working at the market for the past few months, mostly during the spring, she understood how she could have missed them. His words also made her idly wonder just how long the store's female employees tended to last, on average..
 
 ..it probably wasn't very long, she reflected.
 
 "Oh, here we go.." the butcher stated, a few moments later. "They're bringing the first of them out."
 
 Indeed, the rest of the butchers began bringing out the now freshly spitted girls. Each was damp, after having been thoroughly cleaned off and out. They were scrubbed pink, gleaming with good health, and wriggling futilely on their spit.
 
 "Hmm.." the head butcher mused, inspecting the girls as they were hauled out and thumped down onto the counter alongside them. "These ARE some premium roasts, I'll give you that."
 
 The impaled girls made a nice long line of spitted roasts, and more than a few other customers had their attention attracted by the lovely sight of so much young girlflesh. They squirmed and gasped as people began squeezing and pinching their exposed, vulnerable soft bits, appraising their worth as meat.
 
 "So.. I'm going to take this one, this one, and.. this one as the store's share." the head butcher stated, after giving each of the girls a close, hands-on evaluation of his own. "The rest are yours. Enjoy!"
 
 The indicated roasts looked alarmed about the fact that they had been traded away. Unsurprising, given that they had volunteered, or "volunteered", to feed their families at the reunion, and not random strangers in the market.
 
 Oh well, Penny thought, as she and Wanda carried the first of the rest of the roasts out of the store and into the park. A roast couldn't control who wound up eating her.. the only thing she could do was hope she tasted good after she'd been cooked.
 
 And these roasts.. Well, under Wanda's expert care, they wouldn't be merely good.. They would be delicious.
 
 --24--
 
 "Penny, the reunion is almost over.." Wanda said, as both of them relaxed on a bench, leaning against each other in semi-exhausted contentment.
 
 It had been a lot of work, feeding Wanda's entire extended family. And not just for the two of them.. a dozen or more volunteers, mostly women, had been a part of the effort. Setting the tables, preparing all of the non-meat foods, serving the portions, cleaning up afterward.. It had taken a concerted effort, and a rather large amount of roasts, to keep everything running smoothly throughout the long weekend's festivities.
 
 Not that people had been unappreciative. Even despite the fact that Penny was technically an outsider, everyone had been profusely thankful for the help she had rendered Wanda.
 
 "..Yeah." Penny replied. "It was fun, wasn't it? Are you going to cook for them next year, too?"
 
 "Actually, about that.. I have a favor to ask you." Wanda said, looking at Penny meaningfully. "It's a tradition for the volunteers to have a little feast of their own after everyone else has already left. And its always the main cook who provides the meat for that feast.."
 
 "You mean.." Penny asked, looking down at Wanda's rather well apportioned body in surprise. "..You?"
 
 "Yes." Wanda answered simply, nodding. "And I'd love it if you were the one to prepare me.. nothing against any of the other volunteers, but I'm not sure that I trust them with this.."
 
 Penny blinked.. then smiled happily at the level of trust that Wanda was placing in her. She ran her hands down the other woman's cheek, stroking it, then moved lower to inspect her body. She cupped the woman's breasts, and rolled her nipples between her fingers, eliciting a low gasp. She traced the trim lines of her stomach and hips, then squeezed her firm thighs and calves, and kneaded the warm heat of her mound.. In short, she evaluated Wanda as she never had before, as a potential roast, rather than as a woman.
 
 "No.." Penny replied, leaning in close. "No, I'm afraid that I can't do that."
 
 "No..?" Wanda replied, looking surprised at the rejection, and not a little hurt.
 
 "No, because I'll be joining you.." Penny finished, before kissing Wanda full on the mouth.
 
 "Hmm.." Wanda mused, moaning breathily into the kiss before breaking it off. "This is going to take some planning, then."
 
 --25--
 
 "Wow, a double spit-roast.." one observer commented. "You don't see that often."
 
 "Yeah.. don't they just look amazing?" another replied.
 
 Penny and Wanda rotated over the coals. They were together, legs twined around the other's, hips, stomach, and chest pressed close, ample breasts squeezed between them, hands bound at the small of each other's back. They hadn't been spitted like normal, instead having their poles thrust through their bodies and out the top of their heads, rather than through their mouths. While unusual, and more than a little odd to feel a two inch steel pole slide mostly harmlessly through one's brain and skull, this allowed them to enjoy their last moments truly as one, locked into a long, slow, endless final kiss.
 
 They squirmed against each other, riding their spits for what friction they could get out of them, even as the heat sank into their flesh. The basting brushes coasted them with sauce, even forcing some between their writhing bodies. The feel of the brush against their mashed together nipples and on their almost touching clitorises was electric, and they moaned into each other's mouths.
 
 As their spits turned together, they slowly ratcheted lower toward the coals. Every passing minute and second dropped them further and further into the deadly, erotic heat. Roasting together, mere meat for their friends and family. No longer women, just spit-roasts.
 
 And neither of them would have had it any other way.
 
 END END