The Perks of Networking
 
 
By Xyd and Iciclit
 
 
Vaughn double checked the address as he walked down the block, making sure he hadn’t made a wrong turn anywhere. Sure enough, the title of the venue came into view and he immediately felt much more confident as he walked to the front door. He was heading to a “Social Networking Mixer” his friend invited him to on an app for local events after deciding he was time to buckle down and try to get serious about his social media presence. The biggest thing holding him back was his uncertainty of what he wanted to dedicate his blog to. All his content thus far was just reblogs and selfies; he had no consistent content that people really cared to see. He was hoping seeing and interacting with people with more experience and success than him, he’d be able to figure out what he’d ought to focus on.
 
 
The bar was inside of a hotel on the third floor, and after a quick elevator ride and walk across the hall he found himself in a relatively spacious bar with a patio balcony amongst a rather eclectic crowd of individuals. Many of them told the story of what they blogged about just by their clothing; fashion bloggers and makeup artists certainly stood out among the crowd, some wore t-shirts with their brand on it or some item related to what they sold screen printed on the front. Others were more subtle, but still held a lot of personality in their appearance. Vaughn double checked his phone for any messages from his friend who invited him, and started to write a message to tell her he was here.
 
 
“Heyy, you made it!!” Valerie, a pixie-cut redheaded girl wearing a teal maxi dress and black cropped blazer called over to him, slinging an arm over his shoulder and leaning her weight into him. The brunette boy raised his eyebrows in alarm for a split second before cracking a smile, returning the side hug to his friend and putting his phone down
 
 
“Hey Yeah, I was just texting you! Thanks for inviting me, I’ve been having a tough time finding the events like this that aren’t disguised as pyramid schemes.”
 
 
“Oh I know right??” She laughed, “You just gotta know where to look. Don’t worry though, there’s lots of influencers, bloggers and artists here, and they’re all really friendly people, I’m sure you’ll get some inspiration and connections to get started!”
 
 
“Sure, sounds good to me!” Vaughn nodded, and shortly after the two of them went to the bar to get drinks, already jumping right into it and chatting with a couple people lingering there.
 
 
Fiona very nearly hadn’t come. It wasn’t like she really needed to do extra networking; her little social media empire wasn’t exactly a top viral sensation, but it had reached that sort of critical mass where she was steadily gaining followers and building engagement pretty organically, as long as the content kept flowing, and her jewelry and crafts and merch sold at a steady enough pace that they more than paid for her relatively frugal lifestyle, along with the distant support of parents back in the UK that were proud of their girl, but who she was rather embarrassed to admit the aid of. She never precisely claimed to be entirely self-made, but she definitely didn’t fit into the #richgirl set; her dad was a consultant ophthalmologist, not the Duke of Bedford. Now she was here, she was finding making conversation a little difficult. She suspected that people were being excessively wary of her after Sasha, a local instagram model who, Fiona thought, had ended her career with Fiona on a rather spectacular and frankly unbeatable high, and that wasn’t just because her upper canine teeth were currently dangling from Fiona’s ears on delicate hand-crafted silver fixtures. It was all just a bit unfair; she liked to make sure all her materials and ingredients were locally sourced, sure, but that didn’t mean she only befriended or networked with people with the object of using them in that way. Sometimes it happened, sure, but Fiona was quite persuasive. She was also very ethical though; it was always a hundred percent consensual, as she firmly believed it should be, and she always filed the proper signed paperwork with the USDA and the State of California. People really didn’t have anything to fear. She sighed, arranging her drink so that the light caught the glass and the beverage within (a White Russian, apparently made with milk provided by a real Russian) just so and raised the DSLR she wore semi-permanently strapped around her neck to snap a few pictures for later. A perfectionist, she always preferred to tweak things on her home computer before uploading them, even if it meant that content from events like this wasn’t as ‘fresh’ as that provided by others. Not that her followers, she supposed, cared an awful lot about events like this. She hadn’t really seen any other people who did much food-based content that she recognised.
 
She put the camera down and brushed a strand of her artfully dishevelled blonde and soft pink hair behind her ear, adjusting her vintage tortoiseshell NHS 524 glasses as she did so and scanning the room. She didn’t stand out too much in an unbuttoned green plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, blackline titanium septum piercing, acid-washed jeans and cherry red doc martens. The touches of her particular brand were subtle enough, mostly confined to her more femme touches; there were the earrings of course, and her long festival-bohemian style necklace, decorated with a few painted fingernails and a lucite disc containing a pierced human nipple, an experiment she was rather proud of. And of course there was her thrifted and modified t-shirt, which had a print of a blown-up parts diagram of an industrial kitchen spitting and rotisserie machine on it. She was hardly flaunting her activities too much; besides, given the inroads that had been made into the (middling quality, but nicely presented) buffet she didn’t exactly think that there were many vegans here, a rare and semi-mythical species even in this part of the world. She shrugged inwardly, doing her best to look detached and cool as she leaned back, checking her phone notifications and wondering how long it would be polite to stay.
 
 
After about 30 or so minutes of going around the venue in tandem with his friend, the two of them went to get another drink, A Vodka Cranberry for Valerie and a Moscow Mule for Vaughn. As they waited at the bar, Vaughn’s eyes wandered further down the length of the granite until they lingered on someone in particular who’s face struck a familiar chord. After a moment of staring perhaps a bit too long at the blonde girl at the end of the bar, he realized he recognized her.
 
 
“Woah, hey,” the brunette taps his red-headed companion who was busy taking a good sized swallow of her next drink, her brows raising and eyes looking at him with a short hum to indicate she was listening,
 
 
“Hm?”
 
 
“I think that’s Fiona L., ‘@knivesoutforyou’ at the end of the bar over there,” he nodded in her direction, but not too strongly as to not draw attention to himself.
 
 
Valerie peered over past him to the other end of the bar to catch a glimpse, and pulled back in an uninterested fashion, “Yeah, it is.” and goes back to her drink.
 
 
“Should we go say hi?” He asked, his brow quirked in confusion at how cut and dry she seemed, especially since he knew she knew how much he was a fan of her work, had been following her for over a year on instagram, and had even purchased some of her crafts. He could definitely see her as a possible resource to helping him answer some of his questions, especially because he did have a rather peaked interest in cannibalism himself.
 
 
“Um, I’m okay, but if you really want to, go for it,” She shrugged, a little more in the know about the recent scoop on what she’d done to Sasha and not willing to risk her social standing amongst the crowd of familiar faces, “Just know that she’s not as good at making friends as she is at making her friends into goods.”
 
 
“Oh come on, Val. Why would she want to use internet famous people for that? There’s plenty of people who probably volunteer, or she buys them from a farm…” His words drifted, eyes drawn to her again as he gripped his drink. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”
 
 
Valerie sighed, “Fiiinnne, go talk to her, but don’t do anything stupid, alright? I know how much of a wannabe meatslut you are,” She teased, jabbing his side and causing him to jump and yelp. “I’m gonna go say hi to some other friends. Text me if she tries anything on you!”
 
 
Vaughn sighed, turning back to look at his friend “She’s not-..” He started, but as he turned his head, she had already vanished into the crowds of people laughing and clinking their glasses.
 
 
Taking a deep breath, Vaughn grabbed his drink and walked over to the other side of the bar where the influencer he was speaking of sat, and held out his hand,
 
 
“Hi there, You’re Fiona, right? My name is Vaughn, I’m a huge fan of your work.”
 
 
Fiona’s attention had been fully absorbed in her twitter metrics when she suddenly became aware of someone approaching her, dropping the phone and looking up just in time to catch his greeting. She looked surprised for an instant, then smiled warmly. It was the first properly friendly greeting she’d had all evening, and she was at that level of being known where meeting a fan ‘irl’ was genuinely still a bit exciting.
 
 
“Yup, that’s me! Call me Fi...and don’t worry, I don’t always speak in rhyme!” She laughed as she took the proffered hand, her skin Britishly pale, making a good contrast with her nail varnish, a pink, black and blue electric grunge effect she was rather proud of. “Do you follow me for the food more, or the crafts, or the photos? And what’s your ‘thing’? I’ll follow you back if I don’t already!” She didn’t recognise the guy at all, but that didn’t mean anything; some people only appeared online as a hand, if they appeared at all; a lot of the food accounts she followed didn’t even show that much.
 
 
Vaughn’s grin widened and his head fell back in a laugh at her joke (maybe a little too hard, but who’s to say) and she reciprocated the hand shake, giving her hand a genuine squeeze as he briefly shook it up and down.
 
 
“Fi, right!” he affirmed, and then moved onto her questions, “Uhh well, that’s a broad question...I really like all of it, honestly!! I doubt you remember, but I purchased one of your leather pouches and a braided bracelet a couple months back at an art walk, but I -really- enjoy your resourcefulness and creativity with your work!! And your food, well, I’m guilty of reposting a few of your photographs onto mine, some of them look so fucking divine… Oh right, my handle, it’s uh… ‘vaughnnoli’, like cannoli, but with my name,” he laughed to himself, a hand brushing the back of his head sheepishly, “that’s… actually partially why I approached you. I’m still kinda trying to get a grasp on what exactly I want to do. I can’t quite decide…” He starts, taking a moment to sip his drink, “Do you think you can give me any pointers?”
 
 
Fiona raised an eyebrow as her thumbs tapped away on her phone, entering the name in the search bar. A food based name...that was interesting.
 
 
“Cannoli, like the pastry? Interesting handle! Ah, here you are, I just saw a selfie…” She continued working as she continued talking, flicking her eyes between the screen and surveying her new acquaintance up and down. She had a habit, which she had long since learned annoyed or upset most people, of physically assessing people not so much by their sexual attractiveness, but by their suitability as food.
 
 
The problem for Fiona, of course, was that in her view almost everyone was suitable as food, and that for her, that constituted the major part of any sexual attraction, leading her to be rather forward, even by the standards of a society where it was not particularly uncommon to see someone openly masturbating to pornography on a bus, or two or more people openly engaged in sex in a public park. She didn’t particularly know how to control that apart from feigning a sort of artificial modesty, though that could be just as alienating for many people as offering an opinion on their optimum wine or beer pairing after a first kiss. It wasn’t too crippling; she tried to play it off as an adorable awkwardness as much as she could, and it mostly worked. “Thank you so much for the compliments! I hope you like the pouch...I think I know the walk you mean, that must have been some of Chris, kind of a dark chocolate complexion, right? And, um, pointers?” Don’t make a spitting joke, Fiona! “Well, I suppose the only thing I can say is, don’t just go chasing clicks, you have to do something you’re passionate about, what are you passionate about, Vaughn?” She asked, scrolling through his feed as she did so for clues.
 
 
Vaughn reflected in his mind on the purchase itself, remembering it had come with a small card describing a little information about the donor of the skin. Now that he thought about it, he did remember seeing the name “Chris” on there. “Yeah, that’s the one!” he replied, “I love it, it works great for pens and other odds & ends I don’t want loose in my bag.”
As he spoke, he watched her scroll through his feed, noticing his heart beating faster as he watched Fi’s eyes glance between the phone and him somewhat critically. Normally he didn’t care if people looked at his pics, but this wasn’t just any person; this was someone he admired, and he was admittedly nervous about getting negative criticism. He realized how trashy his page must look to her; even with the occasional repost of her work he bastardized with drooling emoji’s scattered on top.
 
 
“Passionate…?” He repeated back to her, the question hanging in the air as his brain tried to quickly come up with an answer. “Well… I like food,” he nods affirmatively, “but… I’m not a very good cook… I’m also really into cannibal culture, but that’s such a broad topic, y’know? Like you really got your thing together with the food & crafts…”
 
 
As he spoke, an answer lingered in his brain. ‘Tell her you’re passionate about your meat grade.’ He mentally shook the thought away. Even if he did go get graded for his own kicks, and he did end up being graded as “USDA A PRIME” and ever since then he’d been obsessed about keeping his rating, going to the gym, dieting, whatever it took to maintain his delicious form… the act of telling a pro cannibal hobbyist his passion was being meat seemed a bit naive. “I like to keep physically fit,” he added. There, not a total omission, he assured himself. “But I feel like I already -do- post about these things, and I can’t seem to get anywhere…” He trailed off, hoping she’d dote some internet wisdom onto him.
 
 
Fiona was silent for a few moments, scrolling through Vaughn’s feed, studiously attempting not to do anything really overt, like lick her lips. There were some good photographs here, not just hers, a few people she hadn’t come across herself, and some interesting recipes. Her mind was lost for a moment in a reverie, in which she became both uncomfortably aware of an empty feeling in her stomach and a certain tightening of her jeans. How long had it been since she ate? She herself was not as well toned as Vaughn, curvy, in what she hoped was a pleasing, feminine sort of way, not overweight but hardly suited for the catwalk, her own exercise (which came, in part, from the more physically demanding parts of her work) balanced by a propensity for rather decadent and sometimes excessive eating. She had never bothered having herself graded; she fancied in the UK she would be a B+ or A-, depending at least partly on the tastes of the grader. She had, of course, idly thought about how she would prepare herself, but it was never an idea that held her attention for very long. Some of the pictures looked absolutely delicious. Looking back up at Vaughn, she found herself thinking about whether he would fit in her brining tub. Possibly not all at once...now now, Fiona, the man is asking your advice!
 
 
“Well yes, a very broad topic...I suppose there’s always the idea of focusing on the lifestyle side of things, be cool and aspirational, that sort of thing? Street food reviews and things like that are a pretty inexpensive sort of place to start, sell that sort of cool urban lifestyle, you know? And then there’s nutrition advice and dieting and so on, fits in with fitness...I wouldn’t necessarily worry if you don’t know anything about that, doesn’t seem to stop most people!” She laughed again, dropping her phone and taking a sip of her drink, savouring the rich creaminess of unskimmed human milk, “...but really, what it comes down to is finding your USP...your Unique Selling Point. Reposting and curating can only get you so far, unless you really build a rapport with your audience somehow, or just get really lucky! But it’s hard to stand out these days, for sure…” Her eyes moved back down to her phone, where her thumb was still scrolling, almost independently, stopping as she did so on a picture of Vaughn posing for a selfie in front of a butcher’s shop window in which several gutted male torsos were hanging, apparently comparing his physique to theirs with the caption, ‘goals 😜’. She paused on the image, her thoughts racing off again. “...this is a cute picture!” She remarked, turning the phone slightly, waiting to judge his reaction.
 
 
The boy listened to her advice as she spoke, hand to his chin as she gave her two cents on the matter. She spoke so casually on the matter, but everything she spoke about seemed to click with him and he found himself listening intently, smiling at her joke and taking her cue to sip his own drink as well. The cogs were spinning, he was starting to get a better idea of what he wanted to do. And in that moment of recognition, Fiona proceeded to share probably the most relevant photo to what was running through his thoughts: him being open about liking being meat.
 
 
“Oh!! Aha…” his face was red, and getting redder. Even if his mind had come to its conclusion, getting it out of his mouth seemed to be a much harder task.
 
 
In the photo, he had looped the front half of his shirt over his neck so his shirt was just on his shoulders, his arms clasping elbows above his head as he looked off over dramatically. He was pretty sure he was high as shit when he did it, too, but if he remembered right, shortly after he took the picture the butcher of the shop herself had come outside to comment on the back meat she could see through the window, and wanted to see if Vaughn was up for grabs. He and his friend had narrowly escaped that moment, but since that moment the aspiring meatboy had never been so close to being picked for his meat before. It had given him a big adrenaline rush as well as a confidence boost, and it was something he often thought about.
 
 
He cleared his throat, finally speaking up, “Yeah, thank you!! I-I thought it would be funny to compare.” He justified, hoping that answer was enough, but just by Fiona’s engaged eyes paused on him, he could tell she was expecting more. As resistant as he was before, it seemed almost too blatantly obvious for him to not touch on it, “I-I… really like the idea of human bodies being meat. My body, in particular here!”
 
 
He laughed nervously, but speaking it outloud finally felt good… and fuck it, while he’s at it, “And here’s a little secret I haven’t told many…” He reached over her phone and scrolled down a half a dozen photos before landing on a downshot of his upper right thigh, showing a reddish-dark-brown, relatively fresh looking brand that stated “USDA GRADE A.”
 
“If you look closely, I posted this on April Fools Day. But….” he paused for effect, “Jokes on them, because I really -did- get graded! It just so happened to be the end of March and I thought ‘hey, that’d be fun’.” A part of him hoped he wasn’t revealing too much, but it seemed to be the right words to say.
 
Fiona looked down at the phone, then up at Vaughn, then down at the phone. Then her face lit up. “That’s it! That’s your thing! Meatboy stuff is a big niche! Great thing about meat lifestyle blogging is your competition keeps, well…” She stuck her tongue out of one side of her mouth and flicked her thumb across her throat, “...so there’s always room for more content! You’ve got your um…” she started counting items off on the fingers of her free hand “...got your diet, got your fitness routines, you’ve got like, different target physiques for different prep methods, weight gain, weight loss...see, I’ve already run out of fingers!” she moved on to the other hand, pinning the phone to her palm with her thumb “...you’ve got ideal prep methods and recipes, you’ve got your cute ‘eat me’ merch, your sexy ‘eat me’ merch, your scary ‘eat me’ merch…” she noticed she had run out of fingers again, holding them all up for Vaughn’s inspection, “...It’s such a wide open field, you can really get creative with it. And you’ve certainly got the talent for it.” She bought up her phone again, looking at the meat grade, “A Prime! That’s not easy to get at all! Hmm…” she leaned back a bit, her previous restraint completely forgotten. The only thing she enjoyed more than talking with other food enthusiasts was chatting with prospective ingredients. She gave Vaughn’s body a proper look up and down, reaching over to give his arm a quick squeeze with her free hand. “...don’t tell me, you’ve got an ‘innie’, right?” She nodded in the direction of Vaughn’s crotch.
 
 
Vaughn watched as the look of an epiphany grew on Fiona’s face, looking up at him when she reached her conclusion, the acuteness of her assessment sent a shiver up Vaughn’s back as he realized, holy shit, I think she’s right! His mouth gaped slightly as she rattled off all the things she said he could do, ideas for shots and posts all at once starting to fill in the holes and actually give the boy some substance he could work off of. Not only that, but her stature had completely changed, where before her comments had been a bit more reserved and general, Now that she’d seen what he really liked her words were far more conversational and eagerly informative, and he could tell that she was right, and knew what she was talking about too.
 
 
“I-I… wow, this is...eye opening, honestly!!” he smiled brightly at her, picturing it in his head, but it quickly faded as he sheepishly confessed deeper into his situation, “A-as much as I do love the idea of pursuing a lifestyle blog like that, I-I feel like my friends would have some reservations. They’re not as into their meat statuses like I am, and seem to only tolerate it if I make it into some light-hearted joke, you know...?”
 
 
Perhaps he was mumbling, or the club was too loud, or maybe he was just thinking to himself when he said that, because the next thing he experienced was Fiona squeezing his arm and predicting his downstairs hardware. His mouth was agape, half stunned she would guess that and half stunned that she was -right-, finally speaking up, “Ah, uh, yes, how...can you tell?”
 
 
Fiona winked at him. “It’s something about the muscle tone, plus a few other little tells maybe, but I couldn’t really tell without having a feel. There’s some real subtle differences that you pick up on when you work with meat a lot, you know? Like here…” She took Vaughn’s wrist and guided his hand towards her thigh, “...if you give me a squeeze there, you could tell my fat distribution is just a little different to how a cuntgirl’s would be, for my figure…”
 
 
She paused, having half caught what he’d said, and nodding sympathetically, “Oh no, I understand. I’ve met a lot of folks who’ve said it’s very difficult to come out about, you know?” and she had only eaten most of them, she thought “I mean, we’re all made out of meat, but thinking about it makes a lot of people a bit uncomfortable. I can understand that, but if it’s your passion you really shouldn’t care what other people think. Haters gonna hate, and all that.” She grinned and patted at her breast pocket, pulling out a cigarette tin with a slightly scuffed print of a human meat joint diagram on it. “You smoke? I can barely hear myself think in here...I think there’s a roof terrace, right?” She worried she was coming on a bit strong. Though this revelation about her new acquaintance, not to mention that squeeze, had definitely pushed all her thoughts about how she might best prep and cook him to the front of her mind, she was genuinely enthusiastic about the idea of him doing the meatboy lifestyle thing, and he seemed like a nice, pleasant sort of guy. Him following through on the inevitable end-game of that path was something that could happen at some for the moment vague point in the future.
 
 
Vaughn observed what she was talking about as she guided his hand to her thigh, his face deepening in hue and body slightly resistant as she pulled his hand down to the jean material. Once he squeezed as she suggested, he noticed what she was talking about; her thighs were pretty solidly built with muscle, versus most of the cuntgirls he knew had a larger distribution of fat. “I see…” He nodded in understanding, eyes looking back up at her as she went into detail about pursuing your passions, no matter what your friends say. He sighed and nodded once again; she was pretty consistent with her wisdom, and didn’t sugar coat either, which he liked. He knew that once he started, if he started posting, his friend’s would likely give him a lot of flack about it as they have in the past. But if they just kept bringing him down about something he was genuinely excited about, were they really his friends?
 
His contemplation was paused by Fiona’s suggestion they go outside and smoke, watching her taking the case out. “Yeah, there’s a roof terrace; I do smoke, not a lot, but I’d be happy to join you outside.” He nodded, grasping his drink and finishing it before walking away from the bar, lingering as he waited for her to head upstairs.
 
 
Fiona downed the remains of her own drink and lead the way across the room to the roof terrace, noting a few sideways glances and perhaps a whispered remark or two as Vaughn trailed along a little behind her, pulling a dark brown hand-rolled cigarette from her case as she went up the stairs. The terrace provided a decent enough view of the LA skyline in the gathering dusk, and there were even seats with outdoor cushions, and not many people either. She sat down and sparked up, leaning back and enjoying the relative peace, just the distant sounds of traffic. “That’s better! But yeah, if you do decide to go for the meatboy lifestyle thing, I’d be more than happy to give you a little boost, and I can probably connect you with some other people. As I said, it’s a bit of a shifting scene, but I get a lot of contacts, and I’ve done photoshoots and stuff for people...not just final ones, if that’s what you’re thinking!” She grinned and inhaled deeply, “Obviously we’d have to work out some sort of business arrangement and such for that. You got any ideas about what kind of angle you might take? Keep it fitness and grading oriented, maybe, or are you interested in your sort of aspirational recipe stuff? That might give you a good reason to keep up with the reposting stuff if you’ve already got people following you for that, gives it a kind of point you know, connects it with you as a brand. ‘Ten ways I’d like to see my fillet plated’, that sort of thing.”
 
 
Vaughn sat down shortly after Fiona on the seat across from her, not having any cigarettes to pull out himself he comfortably leaned back into the lounge chair and admired the skyline as she lit hers. The idea of a meatboy lifestyle blog seemed really interesting, and as she spoke about all the connections and perks she’d be able to offer him, it seemed as if the path was being built for him right before his very eyes. With the questions she was asking, it was almost like he was already deciding what he would start with first once the evening was done.
 
 
“Uhh… wow, I mean I guess I really like the grading aspect,I’d really like to get some shots that appreciate the form I was given and how yummy I am,” he laughed, feeling bashful opening up like this, but Fiona so far had been more accepting about his desires than anyone else he’d spoken with, “I get the feeling my posts would be a lot about self care -as- a meatboy; fitness, but also like using body oils and stuff, Or maybe exploring what -I- find interesting about cannibalism, from someone who currently benefits from it but...may eventually be converted.”
He hadn’t really brushed on the topic of his death yet, which was another factor he’d have to come to terms with if he were to go forward with this branch of blogging; he’d be significantly shortening his timeline the more popular he got. It was inevitable, he’d seen it multiple times on other meat lifestyle blogs; fresh meat starts a blog, after enough posts more people start to follow, once they get enough followers they get sponsored, and then there’s some sort of hyper climactic ending once it was time to get snuffed. It was sexy to look at on his phone for sure, and he’d certainly fantasized how it would all go down but… what was the point of getting internet famous if you died?? It was still something Vaughn was wondering if he could outsmart while still getting to live out some parts of his fantasy online.
 
 
Fiona nodded, listening to him and dragging thoughtfully on her cigarette. “I like it. Make it about you as meat, not just your meat. That’s an aspect I think a lot of people can miss. Like, having the body and taking care of it, looking after it until it’s time to take the big plunge, that’s one thing. But that’s not what other people interested in meat lifestyle really connect to I think...and I’ve gotta say, that’s not what interests me so much as a cannibal, you know? Especially in a city like this, people are really into the idea of sort of…” She paused, trying to find the right words, “...experiencing their food, you know? I mean, you can go down to any store and buy farmed meat, and some of it’s very good, but it’s missing that sense of...well, personality! Eating someone is a really intimate sort of experience, if you think about it, and the idea of getting to know someone you might be eating really well, even if it’s kind of at one remove through social media, I think that really does it for people, you know? It’s certainly something I think is really important, and I’d like to encourage more of. I like to be able to put a name and a face to my food, you know? So it’s important that you bring out what makes you...well, you, what makes you an interesting person, not just what makes you interesting meat...though of course, people are also going to want to see something they really want to sink their teeth into, though that can be all shapes and sizes, believe you me…” she paused for a moment, trailing off, her brain working a mile a minute as various images flashed through her head; the captive bolt thunking into his skull, his headless body hanging upside down...she crossed her legs, not managing to make it as ladylike as she might have wished owing to her erection. She chewed her lip for a moment. “Hey, can I have a peek at the brand? Maybe we can take a selfie together, show it off? Doesn’t have to be put up straight away, of course.”
 
 
The way that Fiona was waxing poetic on how much she appreciated the inner workings and details of knowing who the person behind the meat is had Vaughn’s attention captured. The way she spoke about the intimate experience of knowing your meat before eating them, and how it greatly affected the taste, quality and experience… every word she spoke felt so on point to what he wanted to portray, and consequently, also sent an enrapturing heat slowly growing between his thighs. He couldn’t help but smile and agree with her as she spoke, chiming in with “Right?” and “Yes” and “Ohh yeah, definitely!” all at their respective moments when there was a moment to speak. He really felt a growing sense of admiration for Fiona, the way she cared so deeply about the meat she worked with radiated from her demeanor and her words, and admittedly a desire that had creeped into the back of his head as she spoke; he wanted her to use his meat. That is, of course, IF he gets that far to the point of deciding to be converted… but who was he kidding, it was something he thought about all the time, and with this expert meat craftsperson sitting across the table from him, describing the amazingness of what experiencing meat personally was like, he realized now more than ever how much this desire could take over him, because it definitely felt like it was starting to win him over now.
“Oh, the brand?” He queried, not expecting that but hardly wanting to refuse her after such an erotic spiel, his boxer briefs definitely soaked through at this point, “Uh, sure, I don’t see why not!” He stood up and walked over to her side, unfolding his belt and zipping his slacks on the way over there. He turned around to face his right butt cheek to the blonde in front of him, and pulled his pants and underwear down to his upper-mid thighs, just enough to reveal his ass and the branding, now a darker brown color since it’d healed, “Told ya it wasn’t a joke!”
 
 
Fiona grinned as Vaughn revealed his grade, resting her cigarette in a standing ashtray and taking her camera off before sliding over with her phone. She made what she hoped was an appropriate expression, a sort of sly look towards Vaughn, pointing at the brand and snapped off a few pictures before bringing the phone down to check on them. Not bad… “Just one more…” She assumed the position again, lowering the phone to get a better view of the skyline, and took another. “There we go, perfect!” She indicated to Vaughn to pull his trousers up as she showed him the photo, “Now we should get one with our faces in it, if you don’t mind of course?” She wasn’t asking him to have a picture with his face and the brand on display at the same time, but she was hoping this might help him ‘take the plunge’ as it were, to being a bit more open about his desires. It made her a little sad to think that, even in this open and liberal city, Vaughn felt like he was held back by his friendship group from being open about something that was obviously so important to him. With characteristic British politeness, she didn’t mention the very noticeable smell of arousal that had wafted up as he pulled his pants down, but she felt less need to try and hide her own arousal.
 
 
Vaughn pulled his pants back up when told to, leaning over to look at the pic. Fiona looked adorable, and he felt his cheeks glowing as her face implied that she wanted at his ass, or his meat at the very least. “Looks good!” He replies cheerfully, and nodding at the second question, “Yeah, of course!!” he replies, and sits down next to her once his pants were back on, smiling and leaning into her as she snaps a few more, already feeling like he was closer to her as a person than earlier in the evening. She turned the camera back over to review the photos, both in the frame smiling. “We look adorable!” He affirmed, “Thanks for the photo. Think you could send those to me too when you get them on your computer?” He asked, “I’d definitely be flattered if you posted either one!! But I’d also like them for my own archive too,” He winked back for once, glancing over as she continued to review the photos she’d just taken.
 
 
She smiled back at Vaughn as she looked up from the face photo, closing the camera app and slipping the phone back in her pocket, “Sure thing! I’ll probably sort those out tonight. I was thinking maybe I could post the one pointing at the brand, then link to you, and you post the face one? Kind of a nice link up. We could hold off posting though if you want to get more content up or something.” She retrieved her cigarette, which had gone out, and re-lit it, leaning back and smiling. “You know, it’s been really cool running in to you. I was pretty much thinking of ditching this place after my first drink, I’m glad I took my time with it now. What are your plans for the rest of the evening? You sticking around here, going off somewhere else? I could probably do with letting my hair down. It’s crazy isn’t it? We sell the idea of these sorts of wonderful lifestyles, but even going out to a bar is work. I can’t go anywhere without my phone and camera though, I feel naked.” She shrugged, slipping the camera strap back over her shoulder. Then she remembered he might be here with other people, “I mean, not that I’m expecting you to hang out with me or anything! Or that you’d want me to hang out with you, you know? Just...curious!” She tried not to look anxious, feeling suddenly like the gangly, awkward teenager with braces, long over-straightened hair and thick glasses which she tried to erase the traces of every morning when she dressed. Goodness Fiona, pull yourself together! You’re the predator here!
 
 
Vaughn nodded in agreement to FIona’s post suggestion; it seemed rather thought out and he liked the idea of her wanting to post his hind quarters for her viewers to see. “That sounds like a great plan, I’m totally down! I do definitely want to get one or two introductory posts up first though, if that’s cool!”
 
 
Hearing her comment about how cool it was to meet him had the boy flabbergasted, because he was the one who was floored to meet her, and find that she was actually really cool to hang out with! He realized that he was actually having way more fun than he was having trying to schmooze with all the hollywood-wannabe success stories downstairs. As she asked what his plans were, he checked his phone and saw he’d missed a text there from Val: “Found someone to go home with tonight <3 Be careful with that girl!! Xoxo” He hummed to himself; Valerie always seemed to have a reason for him to not go forward with what he really wanted, especially when it was related to his meatboy status, so at the knowledge of his friend gone, he was completely freed up. “Actually, the one friend I came with left a little bit earlier, so I’m free to go wherever I choose!” He reaffirmed, “And I would love to hang out with you, for the record.” He kept his phone out, pulling up an app for local events and food, “I’m personally feeling kinda hungry, wanna go get something to eat? There’s a whole bunch of food trucks lined up just a few blocks from here.” He turned his phone over for Fiona to view the options and distances from each of them. “Any of them stand out to you more than the others?”
 
 
Fiona’s face lit up at the mention of food. As well as quite aroused, this whole conversation with Vaughn had been making her feel very hungry, and for all she’d just waxed poetic about the virtues of making a personal connection with your food, she could definitely go for something a bit quick and dirty, not that she doubted the quality of the fare on offer one bit, of course. Her eyes scanned down the options. There was a fair selection, but one thing jumped out at her immediately. “Oh, I think I could definitely go for some barbecue right now, I think? Maybe have a look at the other options when we get there, but that absolutely sounds like a plan! Why don’t we head over there right away, I’m pretty famished myself.” Of course, it didn’t need mentioning that photos of menus and food items might make it on to either of their timelines without disappointing anyone. She stood up, taking a moment to adjust herself so that her erection, which showed no signs of going away, would at least be comfortable in her jeans. “Please, lead the way!”
 
 
“Great, barbecue it is!” he nodded, putting his phone away and getting up, his eyes drifting to Fiona as she stood up herself. Vaughn had definitely noticed her erection earlier when he’d passed his phone to her to look at, diverting his eyes as she adjusted herself but not wanting to say anything in particular in regards to it; her own body language indicating it was fine to ignore, at least for now, and not having a penis himself he couldn’t exactly say he knew what to do to make it go away, besides frisking it until cum came out, but he wasn’t quite sure if Fiona, despite her forwardness, would be into that, so he played dumb. That made for two aroused cannibals then as they descended downstairs, the boy’s briefs clinging to his wet mound as they made their way to the front door, the cold night air hitting their faces as they left the door.
 
 
“The truck should be just 3 blocks this way,” He nods, pulling his phone out again to look between the street lights and where he was going. In a matter of 10 minutes they were there, the bbq truck along with a handful of other food trucks lined up next to each other parallel on the street next to a park. “Here it is!!” He walked over to the vehicle, a black paint job with added fire rising up from the wheels and bottom of the carriage, along with various whole bbq meats painted on the side, along with a menu featuring all their classic dishes and ‘Interesting to try’ dishes. “Got an idea of what you want? I always get the rib sandwich from here.” he states, moving forward to the order window on the back right of the truck to put his order in and pay.
 
 
Fiona adjusted her glasses, perusing the menu carefully. It all sounded pretty good, but one thing particularly jumped out at her, for reasons that she hoped weren’t too obvious. “Hmm, I think I’ll go for the pulled cuntboy shoulder with the sweet sauce, and a water...I think I’ll skip the sides.” She patted her stomach and fished her card out from the back of her phone case. She watched the cooks working inside the van with professional interest, not being quite as gauche as to just whip her camera up and start taking pictures. The smells and sounds coming from within were delicious enough on their own, especially mingled with the smells from the other nearby trucks; the meat was all farmed of course, impersonal, but though it lacked that extra special dimension she was sure it would do more than enough to satisfy her hunger. She placed her order and paid after Vaughn, before leaning near the counter to wait for the food. “So, do you live around these parts?” She asked, taking a sip of water and watching passing people with interest, mentally assigning food grades to them, lusting particularly after a chubby girl covered in tattoos, thoughts of well marbled meat and tanned hide wall art mixed together. She checked herself mentally. She should focus on the meat at hand...was it bad of her to think of Vaughn in such stark terms? She realised she was rather playing to type, but damn it, he was into it, and he did look pretty tasty, not to mention, she had noticed, having very nice skin.
 
 
Vaughn bit his tongue when Fiona ordered the pulled shoulder, a wave of goosebumps running up his back and blushing slightly, wondering if she’d done that on purpose, or if she was just into shoulder meat. Before he could ask, she queried where he lived. “Oh no, but I’m not too far, I just took the red line.” He definitely couldn’t afford to live in this swanky part of town. The rent in LA was already insane where he was. He nodded to her, “How about yourself?”
Vaughn’s order came up with the sound of a bell, his eyes lighting up as he reached up for the plated rib sandwich he’d ordered. Fiona’s order was up shortly after, and as she grasped it and pulled it down, the smell wafting between the two of them, Vaughn couldn’t help but comment, “Fan of cuntboys?” He framed it light heartedly, moments later biting into his own hot, delicious, barbecue sauce slathered piece of human meat he bought for himself, closing his eyes and moaning in reverence. “So goood. I love this truck.” His tastebuds certainly weren’t as developed as Fiona’s; he couldn’t afford to be. It’s not like he had bad taste though either, he just tried to find what was good where he could and hang onto it.
 
 
Fiona felt a small twinge of embarrassment about how much more desirable her address was compared to his. “Oh, I’m not far from here actually. About a fifteen minute walk or so.” She said, giving a sort of shrug as if to apologise for it. She placed her own meal down on the counter and whipped up her camera, angling up a good shot and getting the focus just so before snapping off a few, having to exercise real self-control, her stomach growling in protest at being denied for just a few seconds more. It smelled great, and the first bite made the waiting worth it, closing her eyes as she chewed slowly and savoured the taste. It was, in fact, very good indeed; nothing too complicated, but it didn’t need to be. Good meat, cooked well, with some nice complimentary flavours. She allowed herself to imagine just how much better it would be if, just for the sake of argument, it was Vaughn’s shoulder, or some other part of him, being able to picture his face, his voice as she bit in, the subtleties introduced to his flavour by his upbringing and lifestyle, his particular tastes and quirks...she licked her lips and bit again, reaching up to catch a stray bit of pulled long pork as it fell. “Yeah, this is really good. I’m going to have to come here again, try some other things…” she trailed off, watching Vaughn eat as well. She was a little embarrassed he hadn’t gone for dickgirl. Though Fiona had no desire to be eaten herself, she was a tireless champion of the culinary delights of her own gender.
 
 
“What, really?? That’s so cool!” Vaughn exclaims with half a mouthfull of cuntgirl still beeing chewn on, barbecue sauce smeared on his lips and starting to get on his hands; he was a messy eater, but tried to make up for it by wiping his mouth and licking his fingertips before speaking again, “That’s gotta be so convenient, you’re by everything! What’s your place like?” He asked, genuinely curious. He’d dreamt of his own place in a more happening part of town; he shared a 3 bedroom apartment in NoHo and while that area was pretty fun, it was just so far from everything else.
 
 
Fiona shrugged again, hoping there was no pink flush to her cheeks. She distracted herself from the thoughts that came from the sauce smeared over Vaughn’s face by having another bite of her own meal before responding. “Oh, it’s pretty nice, I suppose. Quite roomy anyway. A warehouse conversion, studio apartment sort of thing. Kind of high when it comes to utility bills, I suppose, but as you say, the location is great.” She paused again for a moment, summoning up a little bit of courage; for all her confidence and enthusiasm for what she did, rejection could still sting. “Do you want to come round and have a look at it?”
 
 
Vaughn nodded along as she described her place, obviously impressed as he ate his sandwich. “That’s rad, I’ve always wanted a studio space. Maybe not in a warehouse, but I’m sure they’ve done it up!” He sighed to himself, imagining for a moment what he’d do with such a space. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he initially barely registered her question, looking up at her bewildered with his mouth half-bitten down on the one-third of sandwich remaining in his hand. “mm-Oh!! Thhure!” He nods, quickly trying to finish the ambitious bite he’d taken as she proposed they go to her place. “Oh yeah, I’d love to!” he reiterated once his mouth was clear.
 
 
Fiona couldn’t help but giggle as he spoke with his mouth full, a little nervous feeling remaining until he’d managed to repeat himself a bit more clearly. She beamed at the response. “Oh, great! Well, let’s head on shall we? Do you want to walk, or shall we get an uber or something?” She bit down on another mouthful of slow-cooked cuntboy, eyebrows raised in a questioning way. What she wanted to happen when they got to the apartment she wasn’t entirely sure; certainly she wanted to do something about her arousal, and it would be fun to show Vaughn her facilities...but just how closely would she show them to him? She had conflicting thoughts; she had just met the guy, it would be nice to get to know him a little more (though that could certainly happen before anything else) and of course it would only reinforce that odd coldness people had shown her at the mixer if she re-stocked her meat supplies with him tonight. On the other hand, it had been a couple of months since she’d had fresh cuntboy, and he certainly showed no signs of fear…
 
 
“I’m down to walk if you are, this is a fun neighborhood to walk through anyway.” He nodded, gesturing to the sidewalk, “Please lead the way!”
They finished their sandwiches as they walked, making commentary on the shops and murals as they passed. On the way there, Vaughn felt a vibration on his leg, and snuck a look at his phone. It was Valerie. ‘How was the rest of the event? Make any good connections?’ He stared at it for a moment, before responding. ‘Yeah, it was fun. Heading to a friend’s now for some more drinks’ he responded, and put his phone back. She didn’t need to know the details of where he was going; and besides, she was probably one of the most judgemental in his friend group towards his fetish, and to Fiona for that matter. But here he was, side by side with someone he greatly admired and gave him fantastic advice, and she seemed to have her own liking to him on top of that.. What was there to question about it?
 
 
Fiona made small-talk with Vaughn as they walked, giving him space to answer a text on his phone as they walked along. It was a nice evening, not too warm, not too cool, and a fair number of passers-by were in some state of undress, a few naked apart from sandals. Fiona took the opportunity to get an eyeful, wondering if perhaps it was the more forgiving weather that made people a little less reserved in this part of the world. There were a lot fewer days of the year when it was pleasant to walk around London with no clothes on. Soon enough, they were at her place. A large double door lead in to a spartan lobby area; Fiona was aware that she had neighbours, but the apartments were so self-contained that she rarely, if ever, saw them. She pulled her keys from her pocket, gesturing Vaughn over to the door. “Here we are…” she clicked the key in the lock.
 
 
Whenever Vaughn saw nudity in public, his eyes could never seem to settle in one place; sure he looked, but he didn’t want to get caught looking, so it was often in combination with his head sweeping the other way to look at the buildings across the street, his eyes lingering a second longer than the rest of his noggin as he turned. If a lot of people, including himself, were naked, that was a different story; everyone saw everything and there was no reason to hide his gaze. He followed along with Fiona, looking at her complex somewhat awestruck, he’s only been in apartment buildings like this a few times, mostly for the odd delivery gig he’d do every so often. “Cool Building,” He commended along their walk. His heart had been pounding hard as they got closer, pounding getting particularly harder once they arrived at the door, hoping she wouldn’t have a sudden change of heart and tell him to go home.
 
 
Fiona nodded at his comment as the door swung inwards. “Oh yes, I was pretty lucky to get it…” She stepped in and flicked the large industrial-style light switch, illuminating the open-plan space beyond. She would have liked to think of the style as eclectic, though perhaps it was more ‘mis-matched’. The kitchen area obviously received a disproportionate amount of care and attention, though even there the aesthetic of the fitted units was disrupted by a few large pieces of second-hand commercial equipment, the most striking being the two and a half metre rotisserie oven, a rack of gleaming chrome spits next to it. The rest of the apartment was full of signs of Fiona’s various hobbies and interests, most of them revolving around human food. Book-cases were full mostly of recipe books, food tech and agricultural manuals and the like; shelves displayed various craft projects, and other half-finished pieces were spread out on tables, spreading beyond the confines of the craft room. She put her camera down on the breakfast bar and bustled over to a seating area clustered around a coffee table; most of the furniture was things that she’d thrifted and then reupholstered herself, the cushions of the large sofa somewhat mismatched, it having taken three people to cover it. “Please, make yourself at home...would you like something to drink? Should I put on some music?” She moved over to a half-filled wine rack, looking it up and down, trying to decide. Normally you’d pair cuntboy with a light red, but she hadn’t even tasted him yet, and would he appreciate something like that? Probably...she glanced back over her shoulder at him, hoping the slight disarray of the place was putting him a bit more at ease.
 
 
Vaughn walked inside with her and was immediately astounded; it was like he’d entered into the inner workings of the artist’s lifestyle itself. He stared down the rotisserie and spits for a moment as they walked, feeling his clit and nips twitch and his throat suddenly get dry. Looking around he could see repurposed parts of human remains everywhere, some were already completed pieces, others were still works in progress. He felt incredibly hot walking through the room, his face red as all he could do while he looked was imagine himself being used like this.
 
 
“Uh, yes please! Whatever you recommend.” he nods back to her as he walked over to a craft table to what looked like a half-finished taxidermied head, still not completely finished being sewn onto the mold. Besides it was jars of teeth and fingernails next to some chains, wires and pliers for jewelry making. Everything that she made or was making looked like it had been so meticulously designed, and he swallowed hard, doing his best to not let it affect him externally. “Wow, I knew you were talented, but this stuff looks even more impressive up close in person,” He added to the conversation, remembering a few pieces from what she’s posted on her social media. “And this is what you get to do full time??” He asks, turning back to her. He’d always imagined he’d find success in something one day, but being immersed in all of her progress here, and now, it was hard for him to see how he could compare in the long run, so star struck by her impressive feats that lay before him.
 
 
She pulled out a bottle of Merlot, taking it over to the counter to uncork it while Vaughn poked around. “Oh yes, pretty much! Writing, making, cooking, photography...it all syncs together pretty well, and I genuinely enjoy all of it, even it can be a bit nerve-wracking to put your creations out in front of people sometimes. At least people seem to generally like what I do...and thank you so much for the compliment” She poured out a couple of glasses and walked over, noticing the attention he was paying to the head, which was none other than that belonging to the erstwhile Sasha. The scalp was laying to one side, and there was no make-up on it yet; she had been having a bit of trouble getting the face to sit properly and had put down her tools an hour or so before heading out to the mixer. “She was a model, so I thought it made sense to immortalise her like that, so to speak. I was thinking of using her as a display stand for some jewellery pieces, kind of keep her doing what she loved. Is that a bit silly?” She held out his glass for him to take.
 
 
The boy nodded as he listened. She certainly was talented, and seemed to have so much momentum going that almost nothing seemed to get int her way of continuing her work, whichever way her muse navigated her. As she continued on about the history of Sasha, his eyes navigated her still slightly imperfectly placed face skin against the mold behind it; it was incredibly arousing to peek behind the curtains so to speak, to see the work that had been done thus far, and the potential to perfect it that still remained. “I don’t think that’s silly at all…I think it’s pretty romantic, actually.” He commented, looking down and grasping the glass, then looking up at her before taking a sip. A thought had emerged in his head that urgently pushed to be voiced aloud, and before he realized it he could hear himself asking, “What do you think my meat would be good for?”
 
 
Fiona blinked a few times, trying to keep a neutral expression, running his words over in her head a few times to make sure that he had really asked what she thought he had. Well, if he was going to take things in that direction, then she should be honest with him, and professional of course. She took a step back, looking him up and down, tapping her glass with her finger. “Well, I couldn’t answer that question properly without giving you a full inspection.” She smiled, gesturing towards the seating area, stepping towards it and turning as she took a sip of her wine. “If you’re serious though, why don’t you take off your clothes and let me have a look? I promise I won’t bite…” She winked. Not until after you’re dead of course...she cut that thought off, though Vaughn had surely just given her more than ample permission. She wouldn’t want to let her own hunger or lust cloud her judgement; he deserved a serious appraisal of his qualities.
 
 
When Fiona had stopped and stared at him for a moment, he all but melted into a puddle within his embarrassment. Why did that so easily come out of his mouth? He quickly took another hefty drink, as if that was going to cushion her response whichever way she was going to. Still, he admired her artistic judgement so much, he couldn’t help but be curious of what useful qualities his body held, outside of being, y’know, a person. But once she’d responded with a coy smile and directed him to the seating area, he knew at the very least she was entertained by the question and not repulsed he’d ask. That alone got his heart pounding, following her and setting his glass down on the coffee table, immediately beginning to undress; first his shirt pulled over his head, exposing his mildly muscular chest and belly, then unbuttoning and pulling his pants and underwear off with a shimmy of his hips. He kicked them off, along with his shoes as he did so, somewhat stumbling in place and holding onto the human leather couch for balance until he was free of the garments, reaching behind to pull each of his socks off and downing another large mouthful of wine before moving to stand in front of her.
 
 
Fiona stepped back, taking a seat in an armchair as she watched him undress with interest. She liked what she saw; of course, she was very much of the opinion that everyone had the potential to become something beautiful or something delicious, if handled with enough skill, but that didn’t mean she was incapable of judging a body. She let him finish getting undressed, noting the nervousness of his movements and the swig of wine as she put down her glass and pulled off her own shirt, leaving her arms free, putting it down on the armchair as she stepped forward, stopping a few paces in front of him and repeating the same up and down look, before catching his gaze and smiling warmly.
 
 
“You’ve got nothing to be worried about! I like what I see, but, well, let’s think about specifics…” She stepped around behind him, inspecting his body in the strong overhead light, leaning forward to gently cup his buttocks, moving down to his thighs. “Hmm, good tone, a little bit of fat...not too much, but you don’t want the meat too lean...now, I know you’ve graded A, but I hope you won’t feel insulted if I say that I don’t think I’d do you as a whole roast?” She prodded his thighs again a little more and stood up, moving round to the side and feeling his flanks and belly, before moving down to his pubic mound, fingers teasingly near his slit, noting his very obvious arousal, “Part of that’s because I think your skin would make some really top quality leather, and whole roast cuntboy is normally best with the crackling on...I think I’d go for a fairly conventional butchery. Stun you, remove your head and hands. Skin and then split the torso horizontally and vertically, saving the prime fillet of course…” she let her fingers brush over his labia as she said this, before moving up. “Your thighs I think I’d brine, your lower arms and calves I’d probably use to prepare sausages, along with some belly and breast fat, your upper arms and shoulders…” she ran her hands there, “...well, maybe it’s what I just ate, but slow-cooked pulled cuntboy really is delightful. Not sure what I’d do with your bones without taking a much closer look than this…” she winked at him, her hand moving back down across his chest and down over his belly, “...for more specifics...may I taste you?” her finger pressed against his pubic mound, hopefully making her intentions clear.
 
 
He felt her presence as she came up behind him, her announcement that he needn’t be worried not entirely calming his nerves, but it did pull a smile onto his lips as her fingers laid down and began navigating his body with her fingertips, shivering at the first touches and letting out a sigh as she described what she felt. He was somewhat disappointed she didn’t think he was suited for roasting, especially after his meat grader had commented in particular that he’d love to see his meat rotating on a spit. But that didn’t mean what Fiona did describe wasn’t mouth watering as well, shuddering as he thought of his skin being turned into leather, his body split open, each part of him used for different cooking methods and dishes, an audible moan escaping his mouth as she touched & talked about his filet simultaneously, his cunt beginning to flood with fluids welling up between them. Her talking about the pulled cuntboy she’d eaten while referring to him had his legs weak, breath heavy and face red as she made eye contact with him as she explained not being able to assess the usefulness of his bones quite yet. At being prompted the question, Vaughn couldn’t help but nod, feeling the insistent finger and hardly feeling compelled to refuse, wanting her to go as far into detail as possible now that she’s started. “N-Not at all, please, go ahead…”
 
 
Fiona slipped her finger down, running it teasingly across his labia, and then slowly pressed inside him, using two fingers, sliding them in up to the middle joint and then slowly turning them, looking at Vaughn’s face as she did so, feeling the tone of his pelvic muscles and the quality of his lubrication, slowly pumping them in and out, just a centimetre forwards and backwards.
 
 
“This cut...could make a real showstopper dish, I’m sure. This alone would make me hesitate about the spit, it’s so hard to properly cook a fillet steak that way...as powerful as it is visually, the contrast of gleaming steel and cooking meat…” She slowly twisted her fingers round again and then pulled them out, bringing them up to her mouth and sucking on the ends, her face thoughtful as her tongue flicked out a few times, rubbing her thumb across her fingers to get an idea of the feel as she savoured his flavour. It was really very good; rich and musky, without any sour edge to it, maybe just a hint of something salty-sweet. He really did obviously take very good care of his body. “Your flavour is...wow.” She stopped, quickly moving her hand down again, this time running her middle finger up the length of his slit, collecting a bead of moisture which she popped in her mouth, rubbing her tongue up against the roof of her mouth, “...absolutely fantastic. And I really mean that, Vaughn. No wonder you graded so high. Whatever you’re doing in terms of diet and exercise, you need to write that down, because it’s working. If I had the skills, I’d think about sashimi for this cut, really…” Her hand moved down again, and then she took a step back, a little embarrassed. “You don’t suppose I could...have a little more, do you?”
 
 
Vaughn watched, mouth slightly agape as her hand lowered, gasping as her fingers breached his entrance, his brows knitting and face getting redder as she maintained eye contact. He moaned as she spoke, closing his lips so he could attempt to reduce his noise, but it just turned into whimpers. His brows knit together as her fingers pressed in and out in a way that felt more than sexual; it really felt like she was observing and judging his meat, her fingers pausing methodically on the ridges and upper inner walls, swiveling in a practiced fashion. He watched in reverence as she put her fingers in her mouth and spent the time to ponder on the taste before giving her honest take. The corners of his lips couldn't help but raise into an earnest smile as she praised his flavor, eyes following her damp fingers reaching down to taste again and hearing her reaffirm how delicious his meat was only weakening him further. A compliment from her, the internet artist who he's admired the work of since the moment he saw it. The boy's body was swimming with euphoria, he loved hearing how edible he looked and tasted, and at her question to taste him further his head heavily raised up and down in agreement. “S-sure, please…”
 
 
Fiona licked her lips, pressing her fingertips lightly against Vaughn’s chest to push him back towards the sofa. “Then sit...please…” There was a hint of a new confidence in her voice; something about Vaughn’s expression, the slight stammer in his own response putting her at ease. Like many artists, Fiona suffered from a strong dose of impostor syndrome, which carried over into other aspects of her life. She never felt truly dominant until the very moment she was actually in charge, never really felt like a real killer until she had the knife or the boltgun or the hammer there in her hand...as Vaughn sat down she reached up to touch her necklace like a talisman, feeling the disc and knowing what was sealed inside it. You’ve got this, girl!
 
 
She tilted her head forward, giving Vaughn a look which she hoped an observer might describe with words like ‘stern’ and perhaps ‘smouldering’ and reached back to pick up her wine glass by the rim, placing it on the floor a little out the way as she knelt and grasped Vaughn’s knees, firmly spreading them apart, “Keep your feet where they are...that’s it…” there was a commanding edge to her voice, not harsh, but firm. She tucked her knees together, feeling her cock practically straining at her fly as she reached over and picked up the wine glass again. “Let’s see how well it pairs…” she took a small sip, holding it in her mouth for a moment and letting it roll on the tongue, then swallowed as she leaned forwards, extending her tongue to trace a teasing, slow line up Vaughn’s inner labia with the very tip, inhaling as she did so the scent of his arousal. She flicked her tongue back in. The wine did, indeed, work quite well with his flavour, even raw. She reached up and, using two fingers of her left hand pressed against his outer lips, she spread him open, enjoying the sight she saw, and imagining how much better those lips would look spread around a caramelised shallot as she raised her wine glass and, very carefully, tipped a small amount out over his clitoris, enjoying how the dark crimson liquid ran down his lips and mixed with his own juices, flowing pink as it ran in a single bead down into his perineum. The sight aroused her very tame and well-controlled bloodlust; a little shudder of pleasure ran through her as she imagined the sight and smell of Vaughn’s intestines as she put the glass down again, moving her hands to his inner thighs as she came in again, faster and more urgent this time, her tongue probing much more deeply, her septum piercing pressing against his pubic mound, before she licked up and curled her tongue up under his clit, tasting the mixture of sex and alcohol before she closed her lips around the engorged little button and began to suck, working in pulses, a few seconds of pressure then relaxing, but slowly building up the intensity each time, his cunt becoming her entire world as she slowly, delicately, bought her teeth to rest, teasingly, against that most delicate part of him, before pulling back, letting them drag just a little before she got to work again with her tongue, probing and penetrating, pressing her face in ever closer, feeling his wetness on her cheeks and running down her chin, a few drops, some clear, some pink, one a perfect crimson, spattered on the reclaimed hardwood floor beneath them.
 
 
The gentle press of her fingers was enough to get the boy moving, feet shuffling back until his calves hit the couch, the cushion absorbing his naked body dropping back down onto it. His eyes watched her fingers touch the resin-coated pierced nipple around her neck before reaching to spread his legs open, keeping them right where she placed them as asked. He’d somewhat wished he’d had thought to grab his glass of wine as she brought hers over, but his jaw dropped as he realized what she was doing; pairing the wine with the taste of his cunt. He watched her take the first swallow slowly, then lean in to tongue his meat, moaning as he felt it trace up the slit. Immediately his face had reddened at her expression, definitely enjoying herself as she spread his lips open, his own mouth open in awe as he watched her pour the tiniest amount of wine down the valley of pink sensitive flesh between his thighs. He jumped slightly at the cool trickle of liquid and let out a small cry, followed by a louder moan as her mouth came in on his now wine-soaked lips. His back arched as she lapped her tongue up and proceeded to pump his fat little clit with her lips suctioned around it, urging his hips closer to her mouth as she worked, his eyes flitting open to look down, meeting Fiona’s insatiable gaze and involuntarily whimpered in reaction. He’d never in his life felt more like he was prey, at the same time that feeling filled him with so much desire to participate and give her what she wanted, and in that moment of her scraping her teeth against his clit the thought ran boldly in his head; I want her to -eat- me. Moments later her tongue pressed inside his hole and his eyes rolled up, the pitch of his moan gaining intensity as her working mouth increasingly ravaged his insides, causing Vaughn’s whole lower body to shake as he came with a gush, squirting intensely against her mouth as he squealed and gripped the cushions, his body collapsing into the couch once the orgasm had passed, gasping and shuddering from a few residual shockwaves coursing through him.
 
 
Fiona had not quite been expecting such a dramatic reaction quite so quickly, but managed to keep any outward display of surprise down to a raising of her eyebrows as Vaughn flooded her mouth with flavour, the spurt splashing against her teeth and into the back of her throat, overwhelming her sense of taste for a moment so that she moaned inarticulately into his cunt, pulling her head up with another teasing drag of her lower teeth across his clit, tilting her head back to look him in the eyes.
 
 
“Wow! Do you cum like that every time? Because I’m thinking maybe you’d be too valuable as a milker to butcher too quickly.” There were a good few asian sauces that called for fresh cuntboy cum, and a few interesting cocktails as well, and getting a good source could be difficult sometimes. She carefully stood up, supporting her weight on his knees in such a way that it happened to keep his limp body pinned down against the sofa, raising up until she was leaning over him, inspecting the expression on his face and liking what she saw, feeling very much in charge of things as she leaned in for a kiss, her tongue parting his lips in such a way that allowed him little chance of refusal, sharing his own flavour with him, mixed with wine and just a faint hint of bbq long-pork and hand-rolled cigarettes as she explored his mouth for a good fifteen seconds before pulling away, her cheeks flushed.
 
 
“Now, in my part of the world, it would be considered bad manners not to try and reciprocate after getting an orgasm like that…” she moved her left hand up to his shoulder and reached down with her right, unbuttoning her fly and pulling the zip down as slowly and teasingly as she dared, her cock springing forward, making a tent out of her black boxers, a very visible spot of moisture at the tip as she pulled the elastic forward and down up under her small testicles. Her cock was about 5 inches long and looked to be roughly the same in girth, uncut, the head flushed almost crimson and a single vein standing out just behind the frenulum. “...I mean, if you wouldn’t mind…”
 
 
Vaughn smiled as he caught his breath, cheeks rosy from the comedown as he sunk deeper into the cushions, basking in his post-coital glow. He laughed nervously at her comment; the way she spoke was as if he was already her livestock, deciding when she should butcher him and all. “O-only when I have a good partner,” He replied with a wink before closing his eyes for a moment. He opened them again once he felt the weight of her hands on his knees, seeing her face closing in moments before her mouth parted his lips and they kissed, her tongue pressing into his mouth, Vaughn capable of doing very little except keep his mouth open and run his tongue against hers, tasting everything she’d tasted and moaning in reaction. As she pulled away and spoke, he watched as her hand moved down to her jeans and let her erection pop out, his tongue subconsciously pushing out slightly to moisten his lips as she did so. Vaughn loved a girthy cock, something that looked like it’d spread his holes wide open, and at the sight of Fiona’s popping out ready to be pleasured, he laughed at her comment, “if I mind? Please…” He reached to move her hand off his shoulder so he could slide down from the couch onto the floor between her thighs, face to face with the hot, hard erection that bobbed an inch away from his nose, “After all you’ve done for me…” he trailed off as he opened his mouth and enveloped the tip, pushing it deeper into his mouth and starting a slow but eager pace, sucking and running his tongue along the base.
 
 
Fiona spread her legs a little more widely as he slid down on to the floor, leaning over him and resting her hands on the back of the sofa. She had noticed the slight movement of his lips when he saw her cock. It sparked mixed feelings within her as she felt the heat of his breath on her head, followed by his wet mouth. Of course, she very much enjoyed having her cock sucked, and the first touch of Vaughn’s tongue told her that he wasn’t unused to sucking cock; but also there was that slight anxiety that always had to come every time you stuck a part of yourself in someone’s mouth, let them taste you. Not that Fiona herself would ever shy away from a well-prepared girlcock; just yesterday she had enjoyed one, butterflyed and pounded and coated in breadcrumbs, but the thought of her own member receiving such treatment left her a bit cold. So, of course, she needed to remind Vaughn who was in charge, if only to assert to herself who was predator and who was prey. She began to buck her hips, in time with his own sucking, forcing her cock in deeper as she moved her right hand down from the back of the sofa and rested it on top of his head, fingertips running through his hair, giving just the threat of a possible grab. “Oh yes, keep that up...that’s a good boy...a good A Prime boy…”
 
 
Vaughn worked the cock into his mouth, starting with the first couple inches before taking it in deeper, his lips pressing against the base of her cock before dragging his wet lips back up it to the tip. After the first few bobs Vaughn felt her hips starting to take the lead, pressing in deeper for longer moments of time before picking up the pace, a stern hand laid upon his curly brown locks to continue guiding him. Her words set fire to his own pace, looking up red in the face with her cock lodged down his throat as she praised his submission to her, his thighs shaking and hands reaching to rest on her upper thighs, doing his best to keep up, wanting to both impress her and taste her cum. He felt almost spellbound by her after calling him out by his grading, something primal stirred in his loins, still dripping between his thighs as he eagerly took as much of her thrusts as he could handle, hoping she’d continue to praise him for his good meatboy behavior. It was exhilarating to say the least, Vaughn had never lived his fantasy out quite as immersive as this, and the way Fiona played with him in such a knowing fashion gave him the sense that he wasn’t the first unsuspecting fan with a cannibal fetish to meet her and ask about their meat grade. But who was he to argue? All he could do is react to his senses, and right now all he could think about was how hot it was to be servicing an idol of his, and how her hungry, intentful gaze only made him want to fall to pieces in her hands.
 
 
Fiona closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensation of her cock penetrating Vaughn’s mouth, listening to the noises he made and trying to adjust her thrusting accordingly, not want to come in too hard and make him gag, but wanting to keep her control over the sex. She had been sexually excited, on and off, for quite a while now, and she tried to concentrate on lasting as long as she could, desperately trying to think of anything unsexy and failing completely; all she could think about was Vaughn’s body, and all the things she wanted to do with it, to make out of it, all the ways she wanted to use him…she gritted her teeth and made one last effort to hold back the orgasm, but only succeeded in creating a particularly vigorous spurt of cum that flooded into the back of Vaughn’s throat, her shaft twitching and pulsing as she kept it in place, letting it drain. She didn’t even think to ask if he would swallow.
 
 
Vaughn let out a moan of surprise as he felt the cock in his mouth twitch rhythmically, coating his tongue in her orgasmic fluids as she rutted into his soft mouth. The taste of her cum was salty, but surprisingly pleasant by comparison of other cocks who’ve flooded his mouth. He begins to swallow while she’s still cumming, his lips providing suction and keeping his neck relaxed so that it could be manipulated as her hand guided it to the thrusting base of her hips with each spurt down his gullet. When she was done, he slowly pulled his lips off her cock, looking up at her as he did so, gasping for a breath once it was finally free, “Ahhh… hahh….” He stared up at her, face rosy, mouth hanging open with a smile curved into the corners of his mouth, “Th-that was good… your cum, I mean,” He licks his lips with a smile, “The rest of it too, of course. Thank you….” His head fell backwards onto the sofa, his breath finally slowing and humming a note of satisfaction in the aftertaste, licking his lips.
 
 
Fiona grinned as she stepped back, leaving her cock hanging from her fly, glistening with Vaughn’s spit. She sat herself down on the chair opposite and leaned forward to flip the top off a skull, tastefully decorated with blue Chinese patterns, revealing the stubbed remains of a few joints underneath. She tugged at the door, revealing a drawer, and pulled out a pre-rolled joint, lighting it as she sat back.
 
 
“That was great, and thanks for the compliment! I try and keep the flavour pretty good, difficult on such a heavily meat-based diet. Plenty of fruit and good hydration, that’s the secret.” She inhaled and leaned forward again to pick up her wine glass. “I hope you won’t mind if I take a moment or two to recover?” She closed her eyes for a moment, thoughts still racing, her cock giving a slight twitch as her thoughts about what to do with her companion returned. She opened her eyes again. “So...what are your plans for the rest of the evening? Perhaps I should give you a bit more of a tour?”
 
 
Vaughn’s eyes watched Fiona’s hands as she grasped the joint out of the skull container with an air of familiarity, nodding breathily as she lit her joint, “By all means, I’m right there with you,” He smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. He felt surprisingly comfortable naked in front of her, thighs casually parted, one leg stretched out to the left and the right one bent at the knee with his foot on the ground, the paired arm resting on it as his mildly toned belly rose and fell. He glanced back up when she asked her next question, watching the joint move from her lips towards the common area between them to offer him the next toke. He leaned forward and took it gratefully, sipping in a long drag, brows raising in pleasant surprise of the fragrant flavor as it filled his lungs. He held in the breath for as long as he could, a thick grey cloud exiting his throat a moment later, and he hummed pleasantly as the high washed over him.
 
 
“Well, the networking event was really the big plan of the night, so I’m free, and up for anything,” he said with a daring smile, knowing just how far ‘anything’ could go, his heart pounding in his chest as he took another quick hit and offered the joint back to her, “I’d love to get a more in depth tour of your place, now that you mention it.”
 
 
Fiona nodded as she took the joint back, taking another puff and tilting her head back, eyes closed for a few moments, enjoying the languid feeling going through her, feeling her cock twitch again. She decided she might as well forgo putting it away for the moment, reaching down to unlace and kick off her boots, then sliding out of her jeans and boyshorts, leaving her in just her t-shirt and bra underneath. She stood up, her cock, still glistening with Vaughn’s saliva, swinging a little, pointing down at about 45 degrees. “Well, why not start with the kitchen?” She pointed Vaughn towards the open-plan kitchen, her eyes gleaming with a slightly nerdy intensity as she gave him the tour, rattling off the names and serial numbers of various bits of industrial catering equipment and kitchen gadgets, some of them quite specific.
 
 
“I know you shouldn’t need a special tool just for deboning hands and feet, but it’s so clever how the little blades work, don’t you think? And it really does save ages.”
 
 
Then on to her craft-room, overcrowded with half-finished projects and raw materials. A plastic box held several partial skeletons, and there was a pungent smell that escaped even from the seals of the tanning tank.
 
 
“I do everything here, skinning, flensing, tanning…”
 
 
Then a peek into her bedroom, much less cluttered, dominated by a king-size bed with purple sheets and above it a wall built up with niches, about half of which were full of...well, it would be gauche to call them ‘trophies’. Some contained skulls or other bones, others simply some possession or trinket, but all of them contained two photographs in simple standing frames; one portrait of the person alive and one post-mortem.
 
 
“I’ll go through them all with you, if you like, but first, I think you’ll really want to see the heart of the operation, so to speak…” leading him past a stainless steel door which she rapped with her knuckle, “This is the meat locker, and this…” coming towards another very ordinary looking door, “...is where the magic happens.”
 
 
The room had been a wet-room style bathroom, and she still used it for that purpose, a shower head in one wall and the toilet discreetly tucked away behind a frosted glass door. But mostly it had been converted into a room with one very clear and distinct purpose. Meat hooks dangled from a heavy industrial-style chain hoist in the ceiling, “...It’s rated for up to a tonne, and that’s one of the main structural beams, so no worries there, you hear horror stories about people’s roofs coming in…” situated over a gleamingly polished stainless steel drain. There was just a hint of dark brown and crimson in the grouting of the white tiles, lit harshly by overhead fluorescent work-lights. Off to one side was a metal table, lined underneath with drawers. She opened them up, showing him the contents; an assortment of butcher’s and surgeons knives and cleavers and saws, some antique, some brand new, in gleaming steel and ominous white ceramic, then on to the locker next to it, where a full commercial-grade slaughterhouse uniform hung; a splash suit, blue rubber boots and gloves, a spatter visor, and next to it the cylinders for the pneumatic bolt gun, “I normally prefer a cartridge stunner, but the noise can get a bit much in a room this small…” and then over to the other side, taking a plastic sheet off of a gleaming piece of steel and aluminium equipment that looked like it could have belonged equally as well in a kitchen or a gym, “My little guillotine. Isn’t she cute? Hydraulic, blade comes up from the bottom, picked it up at a storage auction of all places, absolute bargain…” All the while she had been talking through everything, she had been like a child proudly showing off her collection of toys, “...so, what do you think?”
 
 
Vaughn had a hard time not looking at her cock as she kicked off her lower garments, admiring it even as it shone in the light from his spit he lacquered onto it. At the raise of her hand Vaughn swiftly got up and followed, finding himself rather eager to show his obedience, though he wouldn’t anywhere admit it in the moment. The truth is the moment he came with Fiona staring him down with the most predatory gaze, something had subtly shifted in the boy that made his normally quite controllable desires of being preyed on start affecting him more outwardly. After all; no one he’d crushed on before had never looked that hungry at him. Even as she easily navigated her house, hands tracing her gadgets and explaining how they worked along the way, all while admiring their efficiency for whatever sort of purpose they held, he couldn’t help but imagine her using these tools on him, visuals of her deboning his hands, or tanning his hide… he shivered as he looked at the artful display of memoriams. What would his look like if he had one?
 
 
He continued following along, eyes locking with the large handle of the door she was speaking of as she spoke the words “meat locker.” He could feel a chill run through his core as he stepped past it, His eyes locked on the frame for a long second before Fiona diverted his attention to the bright, white tile room. His eyes made contact with the meat hooks, the metal slab, and let out a noise that sounded like both arousal and surprise, “A-ah…” his breath had gotten really heavy in the last few moments, seeing the ins and outs of how she pieced apart her volunteers, and with the sight of the hydraulic guillotine, his hand traced along his collar bone and he swallowed, another breathy moan escaping his lips, “H-Hmmn…” Once she’d finished and had asked for his opinion, he was somewhat grateful to realize she hadn’t really noticed his behavior until now, preoccupied with the marvels of the machinery of her trade. However, now her eyes lay directly onto him, the huffing, dripping mess of a boy as he remained in place while looking at the various death machines that surrounded him. Any one of these methods would be an assured way to kill him for his meat, his eyes lingered on that guillotine for another moment and visualized his head spinning off as the blade zipped through his easily partable neck. “It’s… it’s amazing…!” He reaffirmed, “All of it is really… wow. You’ve really done this a lot!” He states, his fingers fidgeting amongst themselves, his eyes trailing back to the locker door just outside of where we stood, “I was wondering… that… meat locker, is it...stocked?” He hoped that was a good way of phrasing it, finding a way to be paranoid about that despite seemingly being incapable of stopping himself from wanting to get deeper into the source of the cannibal artist’s work, “Could we look in there too?”
 
 
Fiona smiled at him and nodded, studying his nervous energy, the little shudders that ran through him. He was clearly enthralled with the idea of being eaten, desperate for it...and all of a sudden it became very clear to Fiona that, rather than simply being an abstract prospect, she could, if she wanted, have Vaughn, right here and now. She could have his head off his shoulders within an hour, his cunt fillet as a decadent midnight snack, with a cum-thickened green peppercorn sauce perhaps and some sauteed potatoes, and his poached ovaries benedict for breakfast the next morning…the smile of girlish excitement took on a slightly sinister edge, her movements suddenly very sure and controlled as she stepped forward from where she was leaning against the metal table, stepping across towards him, trailing a few fingers across his belly, idly dragging a nail upwards to suggest a cut that would spill his glistening intestines across the floor. “Sure, there’s a few bits and pieces in there. Properly frozen, meat keeps for an awful long time. I like to spin out some of the...better tasting ones.” She winked at him as she walked out of the room and towards the door of the meat locker, twisting the handle down with a loud metallic thunk. There was a slight hissing sound as the rubber-sealed door opened, a little misting as the frigid air poured out into the warm, slightly humid atmosphere of the apartment. Fluorescent lights clicked on inside.
 
 
The meat locker was rather small, perhaps six feet across and maybe twelve or fourteen deep. One side was lined with metal shelving units, and down the other ran an overhead rail, suspended beneath the low ceiling. Meat hooks dangled from it; only two were occupied; about halfway down the rail hung a girl’s torso. Whether she had had a cunt or dick was impossible to tell, for her crotch was neatly cut out, and her arms, legs and head were missing. One breast, however, still remained, strangely life-like with its glittering coating of frost on one side of the deep rent that split her right up the front. Behind her, a fairly hefty looking leg, well-muscled but with a feminine fullness around the thigh, hung from the ankle; the skin tone obviously darker than the torso. The parts on the shelves were mostly skinned and partially butchered; thigh steaks, rolled bellies, flanks and racks of ribs, the remains of perhaps three or four people mingled together. Fiona waited for Vaughn to position himself at the door, then stepped up behind him, laying her hand on his arse and squeezing gently. “Go on, get in.” she whispered, hotly, in his ear.
 
 
Vaughn had watched Fiona, his legs however wobbly still holding him in place as she stepped towards him with that smile, His eyes becoming transfixed on her intrepid expression as she approached him, watching her hand reach forward and taking in a sharp, silent gasp as the nail ran up his soft belly and she recalled what she still had in the freezer he’d asked about. His lips and throat had gone incredibly dry, and he found himself swallowing hard and biting his lip as she indulged his question, only clearing his throat when she had turned away to lead him to the meat locker he’d asked about. He followed a few steps behind, wanting to give her room to open the door first and foremost. It looked like any other industrial freezer he’d seen in kitchens, but as the light flickered on and revealed the contents to his eyes, his jaw softly dropped as he took in the sight of her stores, the bits and pieces of people who had all eagerly asked her to use them for her benefit. “A-ah…. Oh wow…” He huffed, his clit hard and throbbing as he stepped closer to the door for a better look inside, moments later feeling a hand squeeze his behind, her whispering voice making the hairs of his neck stand on end as she stated the alluring command. In accordance Vaughn took two steps forward, breathing in the icy air as it blanketed around him and he found himself merely a foot away from the half-pieced apart torso hanging up. "F-fuck...that's hot..." he murmered softly, eyes busy taking in the assets that remained within the icebox, turning to look at what was held of the shelves, feeling his cunt getting wetter at the up close look of the precise cuts Fiona had made.
 
 
Fiona ran her tongue across her teeth as she stepped in behind him, her cock fully erect again, feeling the deep chill of the tiled floor on her bare feet as she came up close to him. “Isn’t it just?” she murmured, reaching up and running her finger slowly up his spine, pressing her nail in and twisting at the nape of his neck, where the meat-hook entered the hanging torso in front of them.
 
 
“That’s what’s left of Sasha, my last...I suppose you could call her a victim, but I like ‘prey’ much better. ‘Victim’ implies abuse, and I don’t do anything really except give people what they really, truly want…” her hand slipped down onto his shoulder, feeling the light goose pimples of his flesh in the cold air, massaging gently as she bought her other hand up to work the other side, her voice low and seductive.
 
 
“Is this what you want, Vaughn? No fucking around on instagram or tumblr, just the real deal, the absolute fact. Lovingly butchered for your meat and hide, nothing going to waste...totally surrendering yourself to your predator, knowing exactly what will happen? Go on Vaughn, touch her…” she slid her hand down his arm and grasped his wrist, coming even closer so her cock pressed against his buttock as she raised his arm up to caress the frozen dead flesh of the model’s supple flank. “...think. That could be you. It could be tonight, it could be now. Or it could be tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or never...but all you have to do is say the word, sign the forms...and then I will consume you. Every single part of you, skin and bone and muscle, delicious and beautiful in turn, every piece of your meat lovingly prepared, every inch of your hide worked into something lovely, your teeth precious jewels set in silver, your skull enshrined with all the others…how much finer than merely dangling in some butcher’s shop window. Think of how many times you’ve masturbated to my pictures...I know you have, look, just move your foot…” she slipped her own foot round the outside of his ankle and slid it inwards over a patch of ice, “...that’s where you’ve been dripping. Think of everyone masturbating to your perfectly butchered limbs, your perfectly cooked meat...and tell me that this isn’t everything you’ve ever desired.” her mouth was close to his ear now, her breasts pressed against his back as her breath misted past his face and she opened her mouth, to ever so gently nibble across the top of his left ear.
 
 
He was like putty in her hands; the second the nail dragged up his spine and to the base of his neck, the energy of it arched his back and thrusted him up on his tip toes for the moment she held her hand there, looking up at the empty hooks just past the occupied ones and unable to help but imagine himself on one side by side, a strained whimper escaped his lips as she speaks to him about Sasha, recalling her half-finished face hanging out on Fiona’s work bench. She had genuinely wanted this, and now… here she was. Along with the other remains in the freezer with them, and everything else Fiona had crafted at that. All of them had asked for it, and they had become materials to facilitate her artwork. As the craftswoman’s hands dragged down his back Vaughn relaxed into the touch, moaning softly as her dextrous fingers traced the muscles in an exact fashion, he’d taken one full cycle of breath before her voice spoke again, this time even closer, her words pouring a metaphorical bath of aphrodisia over him as she cuts right to the chase and says exactly what she knows he’s thinking; he was a ripe and ready meat slut for the taking, and she could take his body and use it better than any other chef or butcher would. He allowed his wrist to be raised and placed on the icy carcass before them, his warm fingers pressing into the firm, rigid flesh, his eyes looking it up and down and all at once his breath started picking up, thighs trembling as the words continued to drive pleasure into the boy’s body as he fantasized about being it it’s place, and being Fiona’s meat, ready to be butchered.
 
 
She did make a point: He would have peace of mind knowing that his whole body would be used, and used to make incredibly beautiful things, at that. In almost any other case, were he to be called in by the lottery or end up volunteering elsewhere, he would have no idea what would happen to his remains, what would be fully used, or if perfectly good parts of him would just go to waste. But not with her. With his meat in her hands, once her skills worked his body into useable parts and assets, he would be cherished, and fully appreciated. Heavy, loud breaths left his throat as she spoke, his heat causing puffs of steam in contrast with the merciless cold of the freezer. He felt her foot scoot his, and he moved it to feel the small patch of ice he’d made in the short time in there as she verified just how turned on he was. He couldn’t deny it. By the time she had finished declaring his purpose and dared him to say otherwise, he was trembling, body teeming with arousal, his clit throbbing and peaking between the folds, nipples standing at attention. He felt as if he could cum on command if she were to demand it of him, he was so on edge. But she hadn’t; all she’d asked was if this is what he really wanted. And as she nibbled on his left ear the answer swelled from his heated pelvis and straight into his throat,
 
 
“Y-yes… yes! Yes, I-I want it. I want…” he huffed again, a full body tremor of pleasure briefly taking him over, “I want it. Let me...let me be your meat… to use...a-and consume…” He hardly even stopped to think before he uttered the words, so enthralled with the prospects Fiona had laid before him that he could only recognize how euphoric it felt to acknowledge the truth, and pretty soon he couldn’t stop himself, and reached down to stroke his clit, pace already feverish, “Y-you could make my skin into a leather jacket, my head into a fuck toy, and e-eat my meat whenever you want…!” another big tremour vibrated out of the boy, another glob of fluids splashed down between his thighs on top of the ice, his arousal maintained at a high peak now that the truth was in the frigid air of the meat locker, pressing his back flush against Fiona’s breasts and cock.
 
 
Fiona grinned, and moved her hands back down Vaughn’s arms to his shoulders, digging her fingers in and massaging as she stepped back, pulling away from him and walking him slowly back towards the door, leaving a gleaming trail of cuntboy juices behind him.
 
 
“You’ve made the right decision, Vaughn.” She purred, as they stepped backwards out of the meat-locker, suddenly letting go before embracing him in a strangely affectionate hug. “I promise you, you won’t regret it. Now. No time like the present, eh? Let’s make it official.” She broke the hug and stepped away, stopping to close the door of the meat locker, the temperature in the room going up almost immediately as she moved over to a nearby bookcase and picked up an object the size of a box file, upholstered in soft pale leather. She walked over to a nearby table and opened it, carefully laying out items from within almost ritualistically. There were two white federal forms: one in which he consented to end his personhood and all legal rights, and the other which granted ownership of his body to F M LARSEN, a green state form which registered him as an item of livestock with the California Department of Food and Agriculture, and a yellow form which he could fill to grant his immediate family extra meat lottery exemptions as a volunteer. Laid next to them was a chunky silver ballpoint pen. She pulled up a solid black wooden chair and flicked on a green shaded desk lamp, standing back and gesturing to Vaughn. “I do everything by the book. Name, date of birth, and again here...next of kin...and the signatures…” she pointed to the appropriate boxes. ”I can fill in the rest.”
 
 
The shuddering brunette stopped his jerking as he was pulled, stepping backwards and taking a good last look at the contents of the freezer, the morbidly erotic thought that he’d soon be back in here, but as a corpse crossing his mind as she pulled him into a warm hug. Vaughn breathed into the embrace, fingers reaching as far up as they could to reciprocate, enjoying the brief moment before she pulled away, coming back with the file and papers, laying them out for him to read and sign, his heart skipping a beat as he realized just how ready Fiona was to make this a reality. In an instant, he would go from an average human citizen to a piece of property, Her property. He read through each contract, mostly paying attention to the words in bold to get the gist of what he was reading,but that alone was enough to show how thorough the clauses were. It covered everything; what would happen to his belongings, how his family and workplace would be informed, how he was expected to behave. He swallowed hard, glancing at the pen every so often, finding himself going back to read the parts he’d originally skipped in order to find himself more time to think. In the grand scheme of things, it was the most brilliant opportunity he’d ever have as a meatboy, and he knew plenty that would give practically anything to be in his position. He hadn’t started this day thinking that he’d be giving everything up to become someone’s livestock, but now that he was here, and he was thinking about how perfectly everything had gone with Fiona and how easily she’d opened him up to the idea, how natural and good it felt to give in to her. It felt… well, it felt like it was just meant to be.
 
 
After a moment of further contemplation, eyes darting back and forth between the forms and the pen, he reaches for the writing utensil with a quick grasp, clicking the base on the table in front of him to reveal the nib before flipping it over and beginning to write fervently. He filled out everything that was asked (Fiona had highlighted the required boxes prior), and even included his meat stock serial number since he had it memorized. After scrawling his signature and the date on each form, he flipped the pen once more to click it closed, and stepped away from the table. He’d officially signed his life over, and he was trembling with arousal because of it.
 
 
Fiona watched him patiently while he pored over the forms. This was one of the points where it paid to be hands off. If she pushed him, tried to rush him...well, then it might break the spell. She concentrated on her breathing, keeping it shallow, calm, the only outward sign of her interior state her almost painfully hard cock. She leaned back against the kitchen counter, out of his line of vision but able to see him and the forms in front of him, knowing from the slight movements of his head which parts he was looking at, going over and over. She studied his body, the way it held tension, the way it trembled, and she knew that this was going to be one of the whirlwind ones. That was probably evident just from the speed with which they had got to the legal stage; but even once things were signed, that wasn’t necessarily the end of the road. Sometimes the prey wasn’t quite ready, physically or emotionally; sometimes it was her that was not ready, or else the moment hadn’t come. But Vaughn was, physically speaking, perfect, and obviously he was ready. Just that little encounter with the possibility of his desires being fulfilled, and he was putty in her hands. She grinned as he picked up the pen. And for her the time was right, as well. Throughout the whole evening she had been fantasising about the uses she would put his body to...and after all, Sasha had been weeks ago, and a girl had needs. She waited for him to finish filling out the forms, then stepped forward as he got up from the table. She collected the forms neatly, and slipped a manila folder out from underneath the stack of forms in the box, knocking the stack of papers once on the table to straighten them before slipping them inside and picking up the pen to write “Vaughn Kelvin” on the file, before placing it back in the box. She carried it over to the bookcase and put it back in its proper place, then turned back to him again. There was something different about the way she walked, the way she looked at him. Their relationship had shifted, very dramatically and totally. Over the evening, she had shifted slowly and naturally from a friendly acquaintance to a predator. Now Vaughn was flopping in her jaws. She stood in front of him, turned, looked him up and down.
 
 
“Vaughn; first, let me thank you. I was always raised to be polite, and you’ve given me an absolutely wonderful gift. Though legally, I owe you nothing, I’m going to repeat my promise. I will use every part of you, with all the skill I can. And, let me make another promise. You will not see the sunrise.” She stepped forward and reached up to grasp his cheeks, bringing herself in for a passionate kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth for nearly half a minute before she pulled away. “But first, there’s a few things we need to attend to. You are my property, and I would be hurt if you didn’t follow my wishes. I’d like you to go and get your phone, and I’d like you to take a picture of your handsome face and your delicious, dripping cunt, and I’d like you to send them out on all your social media channels, and tell everyone goodbye, because @knivesoutforyou is going to part that head from your shoulders and carve out that mouth-watering fillet this very night. Then I want you to put your phone down on the table over there, and write down your passwords, so I can post the pictures of what I do to you and with you.” her tone was gentle, but firm, undergirded with the absolute expectation of obedience.
 
 
It wasn’t until Fiona had turned back around from putting his file away that they made eye contact again, immediately noticing a shift in her demeanour and consequently, his own. He was now considered property, an object, owned by this woman to do whatever she liked to him without any repercussions. When she addressed him, it was commanding and sincere, and when she promised he wouldn’t see the sunrise, his knees visibly buckled, and if Fiona hadn’t swooped in to tongue his whimpering mouth he may have collapsed completely.
His senses felt so alive, not only had he just given up his right to live, but he’d given himself to someone who knew how to use him, and use him well. Everything she did sent fire to his loins, and he’d never felt so buzzed on his own arousal before.
 
 
And then there was the social media post request, er, command. His cheeks flushed hard at the prompt, his mind racing with a split moment of anxiety at the fear of repercussions of his post… only he realised… there would be none. He’d be dead, and Fiona would be turning him into art. On top of that, if he were to refuse, it would upset his predator, and that was the last thing he wanted. She’d been nothing but courteous to her thus far, and if this would make her happy, he felt it was his duty to fulfil her wishes.
 
 
He nodded, “Y-yes ma’am, one sec, I think it’s upstairs with the...rest of my clothes.” He guided himself upstairs, remembering relatively easily where to go back to, walking around the corner and finding his clothes in a pile on the living room floor. Pulling his phone out of his jeans and swiping open the camera, he takes a relatively candid shot of himself, cheeks flushed, brows gently knitted, mouth agape with the edges of his lips slightly curled in an expression of heady excitement. He flipped the camera and pointed it between his legs, marveling himself at how slick his thighs had become. He then opened instagram, slapped on a quick filter, and wrote:
 
 
 
 
“Tonight I am saying goodbye, because I have found my purpose and I am completing my journey in this life. In an act of fate, what started as me looking for another way to get by has turned into embracing my deeply seeded desires of being meat and giving myself to someone who knows how I want to be used. Tonight, @knivesforyou is going to slaughter me, remove my head and eat my cunt filet. Just thinking about it gets me so hot, and I have the feeling she’s as into it as I am. It was nice knowing all of you, and I hope you like the results of what Fi does to me. So once more, this is @Vaughnolli signing off, Goodbye and Goodnight~ “
 
 
 
 
He went to the last page, selected the rest of his linked social media, and pressed send, taking a deep breath. Streaks of his fluids had dribbled down to his knees at this point. Grabbing a pen and a sheet of paper on the way back, he wrote down a handful of passwords to his social media accounts and e-mails, and once he was finished, brought everything back to her, setting the phone and paper down on the table as asked. “All done.”
 
 
Fiona took the time Vaughn was going about his tasks upstairs to strip off her t-shirt as she walked back through into the slaughter room, only the slightest tremble of excitement in her hand as she opened the locker and pulled out the slaughterhouse uniform. She pulled the splash suit on over her naked legs and up over her arms, leaving the front zipper open for the moment, her cock poking out from the bottom as she reached down to work it through the groin flap, thankful for the animal welfare standards that required each item of human meat to be offered the option of a final fuck with the genitalia of their choice. Then she zipped it up to the neck, grabbing a hair band and quickly doing her hair up into a loose bun which she covered with a loose mesh hairnet before pulling the hood up. There was something delightful about the feeling of the material against her smooth skin; she had adjusted the suit just a little so that it was a little tighter in all the right places, her breasts and thighs pressed the semi-transparent material, dark pink nipples clearly standing out as she pulled on the boots, leaving the gloves for the moment. She returned back to the area by the kitchen and picked up her own phone, flicking through to Vaughn’s instagram and refreshing just in time to see him post, smiling as she looked at the pictures, hearing him descending the open-plan stairs a few moments later. She nodded to him as he put the phone down on the table. “Very good. I do appreciate a well-behaved piece of meat, Vaughn, so I’m going to make sure your death is enjoyable as possible. For both of us, of course.” She walked over to the wine rack and selected another bottle, the twin of the one they had just drunk, uncorking it on the kitchen side and rummaging in the drawers to produce an enema bulb and a bottle of Italian olive oil. She set them down and pointed at the counter. “Bend over here, face down. I need to lubricate your anus.”
 
 
Vaughn hadn’t expected her to be completely changed by the time he’d gone upstairs and back but there she was, completely covered in the translucent material to keep the blood off her body (his blood, he reminded himself with another shiver) save for her cock standing through the opening at the base of her crotch at full attention, noticing it twitch a little harder when he entered the room. He felt a swell of pride and another wave of arousal when she praised him for his good behavior, his clit throbbing hard at the words “well-behaved piece of meat,” knees bowing together and toes curling as she promised him a pleasurable death. It was taking everything in his power to not collapse and spread his legs like a slut without abandon, the topic of -why- his death created a pleasurable reaction within his bodily chemistry had always remained unexplained to the deviant boy, and as so, never before having it this prominently evident that it was GOING to happen was making him pant a little harder and moaning to himself in turn. The surreality of the concept was uncanny. Meanwhile, he was also realizing just how good it physically felt to obey her, to throw all his own thoughts out the window and use his efforts towards her cause. His meat would be taken care of, better than anything else he could imagine, and the fact that it was for an artist he adored and admired, and at this point worshipped… He was pulled back to reality by her next request, and moved to do as he was told, grasping the counter and bending himself over to reveal his ass,the tight pink hole puckering as it was exposed to the light and cool air.
 
 
Fiona stepped up behind Vaughn, placing the items down on the counter next to him and taking a moment to admire him from this position, laying a hand on his buttock and squeezing, letting herself get in tune with the quality of his meat. No need to rush things. He was completely hers, to play with and dispose of as she saw fit. Though she loved the kill and its aftermath, more than anything else in the world, these before moments were something to be treasured as well. But of course, it was only the final outcome that really gave them their true power… She opened the bottle of olive oil and poured some out into the palm of her left hand, setting the bottle down again with a glassy clunk that sounded incredibly loud in the suddenly still apartment, the city traffic noises just a distant thrum, barely louder than the electronic buzz of kitchen appliances and light fixtures as she coated the index and middle finger of her right hand in the oil, and gently spread Vaughn’s buttocks apart with her other hand as she pressed her fingertips against his anus and slowly twisted her hand left and right, working them in up to the first, then the second knuckle, reaching over to pick up the bottle again and pour a little more over her hand, down his crack as she pumped in and out, the golden liquid running a little down his inner thighs before she finally pulled out, stroking Vaughn’s hair absent-mindedly in a way that cleaned most of it off her hands as she walked round for a quick rinse, before uncorking the wine bottle and squeezing the air from the enema bulb, standing as she did so with her cock only about a foot away from the boy’s face.
 
 
His body tensed only slightly at the first touch as she squeezed one of his cheeks, soon after relaxing as her fingers lingered and pressed into the muscle, sighing and sinking a little heavier against the counter. He felt the hands then spread the two halves of his bum and the graze of warm fingers covered in oil down the center of them. He huffed softly as the first finger pressed inside, laying his body flatter against the counter, feet raising to hold himself up on the front pads of his feet and toes, synonymously melting into her administrations while also trying to give her a better angle to work with as she added more fingers and more oil, gradually spreading him wider, his eyes fluttering into his skull with every twist and pump, head laying on it’s side on the counter. Once she was down, he lifted his head into her pets as her fingers tangled into his curls, hardly realizing it was to get the oil off them, and quietly watched in anticipation as she methodically prepped the next step she had already plotted out for him, noticing the label of that bottle matching the one they had opened earlier to drink, and what she’d tipped into his vulva for her own enjoyment with his eager sex.
 
 
Fiona dipped the nozzle of the bulb into the neck of the wine bottle and released her grip, filling the room with a slow gurgling sound as the wine was drawn up into it. She tapped the metal against the neck to shake out a few drops and squeezed a little to push out any remaining air, then returned back behind Vaughn and pressed down on his back as she touched the cold metal to his lubricated hole and slowly but easily pushed it in, letting it warm up a little as she held it in place, before slowly squeezing down on the bulb, pushing the wine up inside him, slowly filling him up. She worked the rubber a little, getting as much out as possible, then withdrew it. Droplets of pale red ran down the paths prepared by the oil, a little of the wine dripping on to the floor between his legs as she tipped the bottle to refill the bulb. “Hold it in.” She said to him, in the same tone of soft and sure command she had used before, then leaning down a little closer to his ear, saying even more softly, like pillow talk. “It’ll make it hurt less in a little while, when I string you up by your ankles.” She returned the bulb to position, reaching out with her other hand to stroke his hair again as she squeezed, forcing nearly the entire bottle inside him. “That’s a good piece of meat, letting his butcher take care of him…” she came in even more closely, as if sharing a secret. “The less you squirm, the easier it is to cut your throat”.
 
 
His anus puckered at the cool touch, a small hitched breath filling his lungs as he breathed it back out with a shudder, slowly getting used to the metal rod inside of him. He felt the fluid enter the hole, rushing into his intestines to be absorbed into his system; he wondered if it’d have enough time to have an affect on his flavor. As the tip of the enema bulb left his body, Vaughn realized he was going to need to clench as the rich red fluid began dribbling out, his hole puckering just as the words had left Fiona’s lips. He then felt her presence blanket over him, her words hot in his ear as she cooed her plans in it, his body visibly shuddered and a whimpering moan left his lips as he saw it play out in his mind, another one following suit as the bulb made it’s way back into his ass. “O-oh fuck…~!” He leaned into her touch as she pet him, moans extending, frankly unable to hold them back. His clit throbbed needily, swollen fat and pushing between the two labia that draped over it, his vulva slick with arousal that drained out of him as she continued her praises of his behavior, his face red and brows knitted as her words continued to buckle any will to live into oblivion, “O-oh fuck, yes…!! Th-that’s… fuck that’s hot… I-I’m you meat, I-I want to be good for you…”
 
 
Fiona pulled the enema bulb free and set it down on the table, still leaning down next to Vaughn as she replaced it with her hand, using just the middle finger to gently fuck his arse, feeling the warming wine inside him as it ran in a little rivulet down across his cunt, the alcohol flooding straight into his system through his mucous membranes. “Just relax. All you need to do is obey my instructions, from now until the moment you die. That would seem a bit onerous, if that moment wasn’t less than an hour away.” She pulled her finger out with a little sucking pop, sucking the oil and wine off of it as she stood back up. “Keep holding that wine. You should feel yourself getting tipsy already. The alcohol helps keep you nice and relaxed. The last thing we want is any tension in your meat, any fear. Instead, we’ll have ecstacy. When I eat your cunt, I’ll actually taste your last orgasm.” She walked round the counter and retrieved a metal bucket from a cupboard, kneeling next to the fridge to half fill it with crushed ice, the machine grinding and crunching loudly. “Now, meat...perhaps it would be more fitting if you were to crawl to the slaughter room, rather than walk?” she said, her tone implying that it was not really a suggestion.
 
 
Vaughn hadn’t quite expected to feel the alcohol take its effect so strongly; the again, he’d never butt chugged anything before either. Shortly after Fiona had started administering the first dose and went to insert the 2nd, he’d already begun to feel a bit on the fuzzy side, and once the second dose was completely squirted in and replaced with one of the thrusting fingers of his owner’s deft hands, He was already wobbling a bit in place, his face and body feeling hot & pliable. He moaned softly as she spoke, shuddering as her authority absorbed all of his attention and left him helplessly eager for what she had in store.His clit throbbed at the thought of her tasting his last orgasm… which probably meant his next orgasm as well. Fuck.
It took him a moment between the crushed ice noises and hearing out the rest of Fiona’s request to realize she had referred to him solely as ‘meat’ this time, wobbling in place as his face got redder in an aroused humiliation as his eyes traced from Fiona, to the ground, then to the doorway of the slaughter room, then back to her, still looking at him expectantly as the crushed ice continued tumbling into the bucket. “S-sure thing,” he managed to stutter out, sliding down from the counter easily and shifting onto his hands and knees, making his way around the counter and towards the bright, white-tiled room. He could feel his heart beat in his chest as he moved forward, honestly somewhat grateful he’d been told to crawl now that the alcohol in his blood was creating a stronger influence on him, balancing suddenly becoming something he had to consciously attempt to control. He was making progress though, and as he reached the door frame he looked back, leaning back on his legs and resting his hands on his thighs to see where his butcher wanted him next, the look on his face a mix of primal and heady arousal.
 
 
Fiona followed him, standing a few paces back as he stopped and turned, putting her weight on one leg as the bucket dangled at her side. Her cock was fully erect, a glistening bead of pre-cum at the tip, and her nipples pressed out visibly against the semi-transparent material of the butcher’s suit. She raised her free arm and pointed to the middle of the room. “Just kneel down there in the middle of the room. Under the chain hoist.” She spoke calmly, lowering her hand and stepping forward, gently tousling his hair and pushing down on the back of his head at the same time, urging him forwards. “Make sure you’re over the drain. This will get very messy, and you won’t be around to help me clean it up.”
 
 
He was mesmerized by her, even completely covered head to toe in the crinkly vinyl-esque material. Turning his head as she pointed, his eyes looked up to meet the bar that dangled from the hoist on a triangle of chains, a large hook hanging from each end. He swallowed hard, for the first time hesitating as he took in the view from this vantage point, not moving again until Fiona’s hand firmly reminded him of the direction he was going in. He placed his palms back on the ground and began crawling towards the center of the room, a hollow tap being heard from the tile each time he placed a knee onto it to move onward to the drain.He was breathing visibly hard, shoulders rising and falling as he found himself staring down at the drain, knowing that in mere moments his blood would be dripping down it. It was then that it was truly starting to dawn on him at how real this was, of course he knew he’d signed up for it, but it wasn’t until he crawled into position that the consequences & results afterwards were starting to set in, “Fuck, fuck, fuck…. Fuck, this is really happening...fuck… holy shit….” He gasped, finding himself unable to stop swearing, his body shaking hard, brimming with sensory energy, “Fuck, I… I-I’m really doing this...fuck…!”
 
 
Fiona grinned as she entered the room behind him, setting the bucket of ice down and stepping over to the locker and pulling out the gloves, rolling them on as she listened to Vaughn’s monologue, pulling the end of each finger down tightly and letting the rubber snap taught. She lifted a broad leather belt from a hook and strapped it round her middle, adjusting the holster that hung from it to the small of her back before going over to the metal table and pulling out one of the drawers, laying a long, thin needle-like implement with a sturdy handle down on the counter-top and retrieving a machine-turned metal flight case, opening it and revealing her trusty little cartridge bolt pistol and its accessories.
 
 
“Yes, you’re really doing this Vaughn. Now shush for a moment.” She slipped the pistol out of its foam cradle and held the compact little object up, studying the way the light glinted on the black-painted metal, reacquainting herself with every little dent and scratch and nick. She loved this tool; it had been an 18th birthday present, and she’d had the opportunity to try it out the same day. Her first kill; a memory to treasure. She remembered how nervous she’d been, the fluttering of anxiety and lust in her chest as she’d stroked the sobbing girl’s hair and pressed the pistol up against the side of her head, the shock of the report, the way she’d squealed herself as her victim grunted, the feeling of her cunt spasming around her cock, the shock as she pissed herself… She picked out the earplugs, slipping them into her ears under the hood and pulling it tight again, closing her eyes and losing herself in memories of twitching bodies and crunching skulls as she slipped a blank cartridge from its place and loaded the weapon by feel alone, breathing slowly and evenly as she flipped the safety on and made the firing block ready, before slipping it into the holster at the small of her back and turning back towards Vaughn, opening her eyes. She had become much more of a connoisseur since then.
 
 
“Alexa, begin recording in the slaughter room.” She said, simply. “Ok” answered a muffled computer voice, and the cameras and microphones concealed around the room activated, dumping footage and audio she could enjoy editing later into something spectacular. Her rubber boots squeaked as she went to the wall and activated the chain hoist, savouring each individual clank of the links through the ratchet as the bar descended, dropping perfectly just behind his rump, the cold steel laying across the backs of his calves. She moved the ice bucket closer to him with her foot, then knelt behind him, leaning forward again and placing a rubber-shod hand on his buttock. “I’m going to numb the backs of your ankles now, and then I’m going to put the hooks in. It will still hurt a little, but remember that soon afterwards, my cock’s going to be filling that needy, doomed, delicious cunt of yours. I’ll make you cum, and then I’ll kill you. I’m going to be quiet now, but I want you to make as much noise as you like. Beg and squeal and grunt...you can even plead if you like, though it would make me sad. We both know this is what you want, and what you need.” She scooped a handful of ice from the bucket and pressed it against the back of his calf, her other hand straying down between his legs, the bumpy textured non-slip tip of a finger find his clit, rubbing slowly back and forth as she picked up one of the hooks, sliding it back and resting the razor-sharp tip against the webbing of his ankle, then, in a single sure and practiced movement of the wrist, the s-shaped metal slid through his trembling flesh as easily as if it was butter, just a little resistance as it tented the skin on the other side before sliding back out, the metal slick and red. She swapped hands on his clit mid-stroke, and repeated the operation. Ice, then hook.
 
 
Vaughn bit his lip as he was told to shush, holding himself in place over the drain as he heard various the various clicks and snaps of containers being opened and pieces being put together. He dared a glance behind him, turning his neck to peer over his shoulder, seeing Fiona standing there preparing her bolt gun, and quickly turned his head back, eyes wide and breath increasing in pace. If anyone had told him he’d be kneeling here tonight, he would have thought they were lying; yet, here he was, out of pure happenstance, and he eagerly willed it to lead to this point. He could have said no. He could have left those papers unsigned, bolted up the stairs and got dressed running out of her apartment complex, like a part of him felt he should; but he didn’t. There was something greater within him that was telling him this was where he needed to be. He needed to have Fiona be the one to kill him and use him; only she would be able to use him for what he was truly worth. He only wished he could somehow see what amazing things she’d make out of him.
 
 
The command of her voice to Alexa brought him out of his own daydream, shortly after hearing the ominous clanking of the chains and bar being guided over him,jumping slightly as the weight of the spreader bar laid upon his calves. Being told there will be two hooks being driven into his ankles already had him wincing and gritting his teeth, and he tried to remind himself of the good fucking that was in store for him, his snatch throbbing at the comments. “O-okay…” he replied, and shortly after was met with a mound of ice coating his ankle and a gloved finger stroking at his til now deprived clit, his body shifting from tense to relaxed in a matter of moments, his eyes lulling up as his mouth hung open and he moaned into the movements, closing his eyes and enjoying the treatment until a hard, sharp and unyielding stabbing sensation engulfed his angle. He screamed, feeling the dense metal threaded through him now, hands now in fists and head bowing into between his arms. It throbbed angrily, despite the alcohol and the ice, and soon hot tears came out of the seething boys face as he did his best to cope. The second hand on his clit suddenly seemed far more ominous, feeling the ice being packed down and shivering, his currently hooked foot pulsing heavily and reminded him of what was soon to come, quickly met with the same treatment of a quick spearing through the webbing. He cried out again, even louder this time, both feet now laced in place, pain shooting up his legs each time he dared to move his soles or flex his calves. The hardest part was over, and despite through it all his clit had been stimulated the whole time, creating an odd mix of sobs and moans out of the blubbering meatslut, shaking in pain and yet pressing his hips into the hand harder for more.
 
 
Fiona let the bar drop across the backs of his ankles, resting on the hooks as she moved forward, kneeling between his legs, pushing her knees out widely to spread him a little more as she grasped her almost painfully hard cock and shifted forward into position, leaning forward over the top of him. “There, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” She slipped her hand up from between his legs and grasped firmly on to the back of his neck as she used her thumb to aim herself, using slow movements of her hips as she rubbed her cock back and forth across his slit for a few strokes, wetting her shaft before getting the head inside him with a little twist of movement, and then, burying herself to the hilt inside him with a single thrust, squeezing his neck at the same time. “And there we are. Nice and full. You’ll never know what it’s like not to have my cock inside you ever again. How does that feel?”
 
 
Another jolt was pulled out of the boy as the bar contacted the two hooks with a hollow clank, a quick break in his sobbing to gasp pairing with the noise. He attempted to quiet himself down at Fiona’s query, the phrasing of which sounded like she was a doctor administering a shot rather than hooking his ankles into a mechanism that would draw him upside down to bleed out, and merely whimpered in reply as he felt her shifting his knees wider, trying to keep his feet as still as possible. Vaughn then felt one of those firm, purposeful hands gripping his neck, followed by the rutting of her turgid member, moments later feeling the full insertion inside of his slippery hot hole. “A-ahh~!!” He gasped, his head tilting back against the side of the blonde butcher’s palm, feeling her cock spread him wide, his walls greeting it with a squeeze. Once her pace began, it did feel rather good, and he found it increasingly easier to focus on the pleasures it brought him, especially after being teased and prepped for so long prior to this moment, his cunt slick with arousal and obviously ready for it’s final fuck. Her words drew a bleating moan out of his throat, brows knitting hard together as he recognized how right she was; he’d be full of her cock for the rest of his life. “G-good, hah… i-it feels really good,” He huffs, his hips shifting on their own to try to optimize the angle she was thrusting in, “L-like it was meant to be…”
 
 
She laughed softly, giving his buttock another squeeze before reaching round to the small of her back and grasping the handle of the bolt pistol, her other hand still holding firmly to the back on the back of his neck as she slowed her pace a little, concentrating on the sensations of his walls gripping against her shaft, trying to match her pace perfectly with his physical responses as she slipped the weapon a little in its holster, leaving it ready to grasp at an instant as she adjusted her angle a little. “This was meant to be, you hungry, desperate little meat-slut. Maybe not from the moment you were born, but certainly from the moment where you decided to start crafting this hot, tight, sexy body of yours into perfect meat.” She patted the meat-grade branding on his rump, and began to trace the pattern of scar tissue with her finger tip. “You’ve been walking around with this big, fat target on your rump for how long now? You doomed yourself, thrust your own neck into the lion’s jaws, and you’re loving every minute of it.” She could feel her own orgasm building up, so soon after the last, a tingle almost of pain in her head from the near-overwhelming sensations down below, her cheeks flushed and feeling the sweat under the plastic suit. “God I wish you could be alive to see yourself get carved up!”
 
 
The more she thrusted into him, the more his body eagerly reciprocated, her words causing tremors and bucks to reciprocate out of his lower half, the anchoring pain in his heels seemingly now adding to chorus of sensations rather than subtracting from it as she coos her violently affectionate words, every one of them affirming the desires of his primal core. Here he was, yielding to the call within him, and in return his body was flooding with endorphins for his hungry predator. He never knew any feeling like this before, his whole body was hot and engorged with pressure, his eyes and mouth wide, tongue hanging out as he panted, drool and sweat dripping onto the white tile beneath him as he shook in place, “Y-yeeeaas!!! Yes!! Yes!! I-I love being meat!! Your meat!! Hahh, hahhh..! Th-thank you for p-processing meee…!” he screamed his reply out with ecstatic moans, and then… oh god, he could feel it. His last orgasm, building inside of him. He immediately attempted holding back, trying to stop it from happening. Orgasm control was something he was never good at, especially when he was getting fucked out of his mind, but he was trying so desperately to make this moment last as long as possible, beginning to hold his breath as he whimpered and moaned, his cunt spasming in prelude, knowing it was only a matter of time before he’d burst.
 
 
Fiona could feel him on the brink, the tremors running through his body, out from his cunt, down his legs to his wounded ankles and up his torso to where her hand gripped his neck. She reached behind her back and pulled the bolt pistol free, increasing the pace of her fucking as she leaned forward, the angle driving her cock into him even more deeply, the base rubbing up against his swollen clit with each thrust, sexual fluids and slowly leaking wine dripping on to the tiles and starting to run down the gentle slope towards the drain as she rested the cold metal muzzle of the pistol against the side of his head, up against his right temple, and flicked the firing block into position with her thumb, her finger resting on the trigger, feeling the tension of the spring, ready to fire as she tightened and adjusted her grip to keep his head still. She was about to cum herself, she knew, but she held back with every ounce of strength she could, wanting to enjoy the incredible sensation that she knew was coming, to fuck the boy’s dying body.
 
 
“That’s right slut. Don’t hold back. Cum for me now, and accept your fate...become my meat!”
 
 
The added stimulation to his clit with each thrust made his eyes lull into his skull and he gasped for air, tears welling in his eyes as he succumbed shortly after with a sob of relief. It was finally his time. The gun was pressed against his skull and as his owner demanded for his orgasm, it was as if every cell in his body broke it's resistance at her will. Ecstatic screams started spilling out of his mouth,
 
 
 “YES!! Use me, use me for all I’m worth!!! H-hhaaAAH~!!!”
 
 
All at once his body shook, vibrated even, his cunt clamping down onto the cock torrenting inside of him as he came harder than he’d ever had before, a gash of fluids squirting out and splashing down between their thighs and the tile as he screamed and rocked his cunt onto her cock as if possessed, his body wrapped up in an illustrious fit of merciless ecstasy.
 
 
Fiona gasped as she felt him squeeze down, driving her cock deeply up inside him as she felt herself about to cum in unison with him, her knuckles white as she gripped his neck. She closed her eyes. She would be able to watch everything from a much better angle on the video feed later. Now was the moment to concentrate on the raw feeling. She opened her mouth in a wordless shout of ecstacy and squeezed the trigger. The report of the tiny cartridge was almost unbearably loud, even with the ear-plugs, ringing on the tiled walls, almost covering up the wet, dull sound as the captive bolt shot forward, punching through Vaughn’s skull as easily as if it was sugar glass. She felt it though; the very physical, visceral recoil, so different from firing a normal gun, the feeling of resistance overcome in an instant as the weapon leapt back. She felt the involuntary spasm that shot through his body, finally causing her to lose control herself as the shockwave of the brutal steel instantly wiped out the poor boy’s frontal lobes.
 
 
She slammed his suddenly unpiloted body back against her, letting out a shuddering gasp as her cum shot up deep inside him. There would surely have been a risk of pregnancy in any other circumstance, but there was now no chance that Vaughn’s womb would ever fulfil any biological functions. She opened her eyes, feeling the weight of him as he started to pitch forward. The air smelled of blood and smokeless powder; the mushroom headed bolt had not even penetrated his skin, but a livid bruise had instantly sprung up on the side of his head, strangely sunken where the bone was punched out beneath, blood welling up in spots through the pores. She felt herself overwhelmed with an indescribable emotion, tears welling in the corners of her eyes as she emptied her balls into the boy she had just murdered.
 
 
In an instant he was gone; the bolt destroying the most human part of his brain. His scream halted in a high pitched yelp as his head was knocked clear to the side from the shock of the shot, shortly after resulting in indecipherable gurgles as the shockwave jolted through his still orgasming body. His cunt continued to undulate around her girth, twitching and gushing as the pulses rode out through his nervous system. The upper part of his body, now that it was no longer capable of being commanded, proceeded to flop forward as Fiona pulled him back to cum inside his pulsating hole, slowly slowing down in it’s rhythm as each rope of cum filled his depths. His face lay draped on the ground, eyes permanently lolled upwards, mouth drooling as he flopped down lifelessly, any reverbial actions from his body solely coming from his killer’s final thrusts, twitches still zipping through gratefully for the load that filled his death craving cunt.
 
 
The bolt pistol dropped from her hand, clanking on the cold tiles as she slumped forward herself on top of him, feeling his body twitching and spasming beneath her as his rear collapsed as well, her cock sliding out of him with a little wet pop as she felt herself press against his body, strangely intimate. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and then pushed herself up a bit, letting go of his neck and moving her hand to the floor, reaching up with the other gloved finger to prod at the wound in the side of his head. She felt a delicious, almost girlish thrill of delight as she felt the fractured skull give way even more at the lightest touch, grinning as she felt involuntary shudders and spasms pass through his body, nerves misfiring wildly. She bit her lower lip, gently prodding and stroking at it, her cock leaving a little trail of cum up across his arse as she repositioned herself astride him, taking the time to enjoy him in this strangely pliable zombie state, before she finally hauled him up and put a complete end to him.
 
 
His heart beat steadily as she laid atop his vegetated body, wheezing out mindless breaths through his pressed lungs as she embraced him, her body absorbing whatever trembles he had left in him from his final orgasm. A hollow wet crackling sound could be heard as the shattered pieces of bone in his bruised skull were pressed on, grinding against each other and the grey matter within. With each press his body reacted, a short burst of energy shot through his various limbs with one, his eyes lulling and fluttering as he gurgled more spit out of his throat at another, his bladder unabashedly releasing and draining onto the tile with the next, along with his anus pushing out any wine that his body didn't absorb. They pooled with his arousal fluids and made the journey to the drain beneath the braindead meatslut, now truly and completely at Fiona's disposal.
 
 
Fiona closed her eyes in bliss, listening to the sound of the drain gurgling. She felt completely at peace, half in mind to strip out of the slaughter suit, before her more rational mind thought of hours spent in the shower scrubbing congealed blood from under fingernails. That thought bought her to, and she sighed pleasantly as she stroked Vaughn’s hair for a moment, then got upright on her knees, retrieving the bolt pistol and returning it to the holster at the small of her back, before standing fully up. She took a moment to stretch, feeling a little ache in her legs from where she’d been kneeling on the hard floor.
 
 
“Not getting any younger, Ms. Larsen” she murmured to herself as she walked back over to the control box for the hoist and depressed the up button, half-turning to watch the process. The chain clanked; the bar lifted first, A slight jerk as the hooks began to take the weight of him, his ankles slowly lifting up, giving her a brilliant view of his still glistening, pink-flushed cunt as his legs slowly and steadily rose. Even after two orgasms in the space of less than an hour, her cock was still a little above semi-erect, a pleasant throb of near-pain as Vaughn’s hips began to lift, his torso dragging backwards a little along the tiles with a gentle squeak, a little blood that had begun to trickle from one of his nostrils leaving a red smear on the white tiles, partially wiped away by his hair before his head swung back under the rest of him, his hair lifting up off the floor just before it wiped in the pool of wine and urine that was still dripping down the drain, his arms the last part of him touching the floor, and soon enough, those too lifted up, finally dangling several feet above the floor.
 
 
She let go of the button, and heard the ratchet brake engage. Humming softly to herself, she walked back to the counter top and picked up the sticker, weighing it in her hands as she returned to Vaughn, putting a hand on his still quivering flank in order to turn him ever so slightly, positioning him perfectly for one of the watching cameras and herself just behind and to one side, resting the needle-sharp tip of the implement up against his jugular vein and closing her eyes for another moment, before slowly pressing it into him. The tip entered the skin easily; the triangular blade filling the wound it created for the moment so there was almost no blood, a little as she hit the resistance of his neck muscles, a little effort to push up through, into the chest cavity, the wound slowly opening wider until finally she felt the strange twitching resistance of his still-beating heart, the body shivering again involuntarily for a few moments as she held it, the hilt pressed against the skin, then moving her other hand down to grab hold of his hair, tilting the head back as she pulled the sticker out in one sharp motion, a thick dark almost solid jet of blood following in its wake, spattering against the floor like the jet from a hose, little droplets spraying up the front of her suit as it ran around her boots and down towards the drain.
 
 
The journey from the floor to hanging upside down in the air wasn’t a long one, the hoist easily capable of lifting the amount of dead weight previously known as Vaughn offered. He was however still technically alive; that bolt merely knocked his consciousness out of him at the moment of his peak, his satisfied, fat little clit gently leaning to the side in exhaustion as he was cranked upside down, his whole body dangling limply and in position for his actual slaughtering. There was hardly a reaction out of him as the sticker stabbed through his neck, maybe the slightest gag from his throat, his body trembling as it stabbed further inside to impale his heart, his breath stuttering and catching in short cycles. As she pulled his head back and yanked the long sharp tool out his body gasped, lips and eyes twitching as his blood began hosing out of the precise hole Fiona had made. His body jerked and spazzed lightly as his heart hemorrhaged his blood out of his body at a rapid pace, seemingly endless for a minute or so before the pressure began to drop, then dropped again as more and more of his blood emptied down the drain. Pretty soon there was no movement left in the boy, no fluttering eyes, just permanently crossed looking up to his obliterated skull, his gaping mouth no longer made any noise, just silently stringing bits of drool into the bloody downpour. When he was finally emptied the body would be dead-still, an unhosted vessel of flesh and bone, for the first time authentically representing what the brand on his flank defined him as.
 
 
Fiona carried the sticker over to the sink next to the counter, washing it under the running water with her fingertips carefully running up the flat parts of the blade before dropping it in with a clatter, the sound of the water running down the drain mixing with the spraying and gurgling of the slowly diminishing flow of blood. She turned to the drawer and picked up a short-bladed knife, returning to Vaughn’s body just as the breaths started to finally flutter out. She reached out and laid a hand on his stomach, just in time to catch that final shuddering little movement as his circulatory system finally failed. She smiled to herself, and moved her hand down to his, grasping the hanging palm and bending the hand back at the wrist, before sliding the tip of the knife in through the flesh at the joint and beginning to cut round with a sawing motion. The hand grasped weakly back at her as the tendons were cut, the fingers almost immediately relaxing, blood that was stuck in the hanging arms running out freely over her gloves as she left the hand hanging limply by a strip of gristle and skin, and repeated the operation with the second one. Then she moved back around him, the blood falling now not as a stream, but more a steady cascade of drips, splashing in the gurgling pool of gore that was running down the drain. If she had had time to get Vaughn properly vetted medically, she might have tried to catch some of the blood for a variety of culinary purposes. But it was fine in his case to let it simply drain. She studied him, his expression, his face now dripping with blood that ran down him in lazy rivers. She shook her head.
 
 
“Poor boy.”
 
 
She laughed, and began to consider her next move, reaching out to run a hand down a calf. Skinning would probably be the first order of business. But that would take a while. First, she needed to regather her strength. Her eyes strayed down between his legs, and she turned the body again a little, making sure there was a good camera angle as she hooked two fingers into his cunt, squelching into her own cum, and pushed the tip of her knife down into his perineum. Then she began to cut down one side of the pubic mound, then the other, tugging on her fingers bit to lift out the wedge of meat, going in again behind with the knife to slice away the cervix and various connecting tissues, then making a single horizontal cut that joined the others. With a dull little noise like wet paper tearing, she finally lifted his prime fillet free, turning it over in her hand, feeling the weight of it. Her stomach grumbled. “Time to eat.” She said, partially addressed to a nearby camera, and strode from the room, leaving bloody half-bootprints behind her.
 
 
The timing really couldn’t have been more perfect, in regards to Vaughn’s conversion. The boy had been in full stride in his meat cultivation regimen, though he was rather shy to admit it to most and had managed to create a facade of what his routine’s steps truly entailed. He’d worked out regularly, a combination of weight lifting & cardio to build muscle but keep it lean, and yoga on his off days to keep them getting too tight, always paying attention to his fat content so he wouldn’t taste too gamey. He’d also gotten bi-weekly massages, the therapist he saw gave massages specifically curated for registered meat, and even used oils that enhanced the natural flavors of his flesh. He’d just gotten his most recent one about two days ago, which only added to the benefits of getting slaughtered tonight, since his meat would be extra tender.
 
 
The meatboy got so much pleasure out of taking care of his body with these ideals in mind; he’d never would have been so committed if it wasn’t for how gratifying it was to see himself look more and more delicious and ripe for the picking with every passing day.
 
 
Now that he hung upside down, blood slowly leaking out of his neck and wrists, it was evident his consistent efforts had paid off; his meat had a wonderful amount of muscle and tone, his skin was soft and succulent in appearance. His cunt had been removed the raw flesh beneath glistened a deep red, the curve of his pelvic bone peeking through where Fiona had carved the desirable morsel out to consume, leaving the body to continue to bleed out, gravity doing most of the work now as the opaque red fluid continued to gradually leak into the drain.
 
 
Fiona cradled the dripping raw cut in her other hand, gently unhooking her fingers from the slit, feeling the weight of it in her hand. Somewhere just over a pound; a hearty meal indeed, needing very little in the way of trimmings. Single drops fell from her hand to mingle with the bootprints as she walked over to the open plan kitchen, pulling a wooden chopping board with a red rim out from a colour-coded rack and setting the fillet down reverently on it. She had not simply been sweet-talking Vaughn when she had rhapsodised about what she would do with his meat. This was serious. She peeled off her gloves, laying them on the draining board next to the sink, and undid the plastic cuffs of the suit, rolling them up to her elbow, slipping back the hood as well and popping the earplugs out, putting them on the side ready to be returned to their proper place in the pistol case later. She pulled a ceramic knife from the block and carefully began to trim the edges of the cut, just neatening things up a little, trying to remove as little as possible. The cut still retained the ghost of warmth from the living boy, blood still oozing from it each time she pressed down with her fingers. The skin was beautiful, the thin layer of yellowish subcutaneous fat just perfect. She felt her mouth watering as she pressed down on the cut again, wanting to remove as much of the blood as possible, without squeezing out too much in the way of the juices that had collected from his last fucking. “Alexa,” she said, as she finished, rinsing her hands under the sink. “, stop recording in the slaughter room.” “Ok”. “Alexa, play back last recording.” She heard the sounds of her own voice playing back over the apartment’s sound system, delivering her last instructions to the boy whose cunt she was now preparing to cook, “I’m going to numb the backs of your ankles now, and then I’m going to put the hooks in…”
 
  She hummed as she worked, listening to the slowly ramping sounds of her meals last fucking and slaughter. She prepared a light white pepper sauce, seasoned with a decadent quarter pint of dickgirl cum and a shot of brandy, and left it to simmer down while she greased a griddle pan with human butter and began to toast some crushed garlic in the base. Once the garlic began to caramelise, she transferred the fillet in, the raw meat hissing and sizzling on the hot metal, the lips of the labia immediately beginning to sag more open as the juices in the centre dripped down and boiled up, steam wafting from the slit as she pressed it down firmly with the back of a stainless steel spatula, listening to Vaughn’s final orgasm build in the recording as she sprinkled sea salt and cracked black pepper lightly over the cut, watching the deep pink-grey colour of perfectly cooked rare human flesh slowly rising up the side. She slid the spatula from side to side, rolling the cut a little to sear the edges, the sides of the skin immediately starting to blister up into thick, delicious crackling, then she slipped on an oven glove and threw a splash of the brandy into the pan.
 
 
The fumes caught almost immediately, the flames shooting up dramatically as she juggled the pan, moving the hot grease around, the skin on the front darkening and crisping up almost immediately, the labia curling thickly on themselves as they sizzled and hissed like strips of thick back bacon, the fat little clit, still engorged from the final fuck, swelling even more as she finally flipped the fillet over, another sprinkle of seasoning on the base as she let it cook through from the other side. Then she flipped it again, turned the heat off and set it to one side for a moment as she pulled out a plate. The sizzling morsel of meat was laid reverently in the middle of it with a single sure move of the spatula, just as the sound of the bolt gun echoed over the speakers. She smiled to herself contentedly as she picked up the sauce pan, carefully pouring into the gaping centre of the fillet, letting it spread out underneath from the bottom mixed with beautiful curling patterns of pink jus, and spill alluringly from the base of the slit. A quick deglaze of the griddle with a splash of balsamic, and then that was added to the plate in forwards and backwards sweeps. Finally, a quick sprinkle of thyme.
 
 
She clapped her hands as she surveyed her handiwork, before heading upstairs to retrieve Vaughn’s phone and camera as she let it rest quickly. She moved it over to a nearby counter where the light was set up just right, poured the last of the paired wine into a little glass next to it, and started taking photos. As she sent out the posts, she noticed that Vaughn’s subscriber count had leapt up by about 600 since she had seen it first earlier in the evening. She chuckled to herself. Maybe she was a bit of a social media guru! She put the phone down, leaving the notifications on, listening to the pings coming in as the recording ran out and she sat down to eat.
 
 
Vaughn himself had been a big fan of a well made cunt filet, though it was few & far between, since it was a pretty pricey cut for the average twenty-something to have as an average dinner. He had gotten the opportunity to get first pick on an oven roast once; it had been the will of the volunteer, his friend Trystan. It was his own offering as a way to convince the local community college he’d long worked at that they were in dire need of full-sized ovens for the culinary program. If they got the equipment, he’d be the first to test it, as the main course.
 
 
Really in a way, it was largely Trystan engineering a plan to get roasted in the exact way he wanted, with the exact oven he wanted to roast alive in, not to mention he'd be prepped by his boyfriend who was currently in the culinary program there, and may or may not have had an added influence to the idea. I mean, who wouldn't want to roast their own meatslut boyfriend?
Vaughn had really admired how Trystan had pursued exactly what he wanted, and wasn't afraid to give everything for the cause, So when he was told he'd get first pick, he picked exactly what -he- wanted; his filet. It had tasted so tender, and sweet, but the flavor was so distinct and earthy. He couldn't help but moan as he ate it, and it had turned him on to see it plated in front of him practically as much as it did to watch his former friend, now future meal writhing inside the oven as the newly installed oven, and when he devoured his clit, it was almost as if he was tasting Trystan's final throws as he gradually stilled and glazed over, the steam from the heat radiating off his plate with every bite. As he finished the last delightful morsels, savoring every moment of the flavors dissolving down his throat, he could only hope his own eager cunt would taste as incredible as this.
 
 
Although Fiona could not of course have been able to directly compare Vaughns sizzling fillet with that of his late friend, had the boy somehow managed to be alive to taste his own cunt he would surely have not been disappointed. She pressed the sharp fork into the meat, punching through a thin layer of crackling, and carved a generous mouthful from the base of his labia majora, with a good portion of the inner folds included. The first taste was pure heaven. The juicy meat resisted her teeth just for a moment (the muscles had obviously been well exercised), the crackling crunching then practically melting on her tongue, a few chews all that was necessary to reduce the whole morsel to paste, the sauce and the light spice perfectly complimenting the flavour, the slightly more delicate taste of dickgirl cum a perfect compliment to the more robust flavour of cuntboy, her own pre-mortem basting buried somewhere in the mix. She closed her eyes, and moaned softly as she swallowed. She thought, as she often did at these moments, about those strange ancient cultures where people had eaten the meat of animals, rather than people, that had so intrigued and repulsed her when she had learned about them in history class at school back in England; it was really unimaginable to her, that people had survived that sort of utter barbarity. She licked her lips and shook her head, taking a sip of the wine; the pairing was just as good when he was cooked as he had been raw and alive. She closed her eyes and wallowed in pure carnal pleasure for a moment.
 
 
“Alexa, play my dining playlist.” She couldn’t help but grin as the sound of soft indie rock filled the apartment, the slow pace of the music helpling her overcome an almost primal urge to just fill herself with the incredible meal before her. She could taste his orgasm, like a sort of spicy heat, tingling on her tongue and the roof of her mouth as she took another bite, ghostly waves of physical ecstacy washing through her face and down her throat as she moved up towards the clit. The burst of flavour and sensation as she devoured the very jewel of Vaughn’s pleasure was almost enough to bring a tear to her eye. A single bead of pre-cum dropped from her cock, now rock hard again, on to the floor, she felt her cheeks flush, putting her cutlery down and unzipping the splash suit down to the waist and pulling her arms free. Her nipples were like solid lumps of some electrified crystal, the mere sensation of the plastic dragging across them enough to make her knees turn to jelly. She took another sip of the wine, letting the flavours mingle, then, looking around guiltily as if someone might be watching, she picked the remaining meat up in her bare fingers. Sauce and crimson jus dripped down her chin and breasts and belly as she chewed and moaned and gasped, her fingers greasy, her untouched cock quivering as she swallowed more and more, a thin sheen of meat-sweat on her forehead as she crammed the last of it in to her mouth, her cheeks bulging, overwhelmed with cannibalistic lust, squirming as a third, painful orgasm sent a lazy dollop of cum oozing from her slit, chewing and swallowing, her whole universe shrank into the pure experience of devouring Vaughn’s meat. She sucked her fingers and picked up the plate, licking it clean like a dog, wanting to taste every last drop of him. She kicked her boots off, leaving them by the counter as she stripped out of the rest of the suit, needing to be naked for the moment, then staggering over to the sofa and slumping back, her eyes half-lidded. She lay still for a few moments, then kissed the tips of her fingers.
 
 
“Magnifique” she murmured.