Messages

1

General Discussion / Re: Anything new to report?

« on: April 21, 2025, 11:04:43 PM »

I was starting on a Femcan Tv-show I might release it soon

I ask again. Anything new to report? I deeply enjoy reading about other people's experiences and fantasies as an executioner, a piece of meat, a chef, a dinner, and a cannibal who eats the delicious meat that we have become. We share a very powerful set of paraphilias! 

Thanks! 

How delightful! I can't wait! 

2

General Discussion / Re: Anything new to report?

« on: April 12, 2025, 10:39:55 PM »

I ask again. Anything new to report? I deeply enjoy reading about other people's experiences and fantasies as an executioner, a piece of meat, a chef, a dinner, and a cannibal who eats the delicious meat that we have become. We share a very powerful set of paraphilias! 

Thanks! 

3

General Discussion / Re: How would you like to be cooked?

« on: April 12, 2025, 09:49:38 PM »

Ever since I've also developed a fantasy about being live slow roasted in oven - being able to masturbate in oven while being roasted - knowing that cannibals would soon be eating my body - and that they are hungry for it

Probably still have some new ideas when I think about it - but can't find anybody who actually would like to chat about it Once I've meet a cannibal guy - who was keen to fantasize about how would we cook and eat me - just wanted to get a live video of my jerking of to this fantasy I did really liked it - but didn't meet anybody willing since then to do such a exchange

I don't think of myself primarily a cannibal guy, but I'm willing to try that character for role playing. Maybe I could be your chef, too. I could cook you and eat you if that's what you want. You would have to lead me through my actions and behavior so that I can fulfill your fantasy and satisfy you.

I would also be willing to role play being a male cannibal who cooks and eats other men. In fact, I would really like that.

I think of myself primarily as meat. I keep myself in very good shape. Fitness is very important to me. I want for hungry female and/or male cannibals to cook me and eat me. I would love to role play that. I would prefer that they hang me while I am wearing a white, cotton, long-sleeved, button-down oxford cloth dress shirt, charcoal gray or navy dress slacks, shiny black leather dress boots, and a black silk necktie when they hang me before they cook me and eat me, but I am flexible. I am so fit, so meaty and muscular that the men and/or women who hang me so they can cook me and eat me can see the muscular and meaty bulges beneath my white shirt, and that turns me on.

I would prefer that the men and/or women who hang me, cook me, and eat me also wear white, cotton, long-sleeved, button-down oxford cloth dress shirts, charcoal gray or navy dress slacks, shiny black leather dress boots/high heels, and black silk neckties, too, but again I am flexible.

I want to feel them tie my hands behind my back before they hang me. I want to feel them cinch the noose tightly around my waiting neck before they hang me. I want to hear the trap doors open beneath my feet when they hang me. I want to feel the drop when they hang me. I want to feel the noose tighten fatally around me neck when they hang me. I want to feel and hear my neck break when they hang me. In my last microseconds of consciousness, I want to hear the clapping and cheering of the men and/or women who have hanged me as they laughingly discuss recipes for cooking me while optimizing the amount of meat that I will provide.

But maybe we can help each other? I would like to try some fantasy role play.

4

General Discussion / Anything new to report?

« on: February 14, 2025, 08:47:51 PM »

I typically satisfy myself by writing fantasies in which I am hanged by female or male cannibals while I am wearing a white, cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt and a necktie. After they have hanged me, they cook me and eat me. I have posted some of those stories here, but I save some of them for myself so I can read them on my laptop with hopeful anticipation while I am sitting at my desk wearing a white shirt and a tie, and I fantasize contentedly about being hanged, cooked, and eaten. 

Does anyone have a new fantasy to share where he is a knowing or unknowing, willing or unwilling, hapless piece of man-meat? As an eager, hungry chef who professionally and eagerly cooks that meat while anticipating a delicious meal? As a cannibal who lovingly and ravenously eats that meat meal? 

If not a fantasy, then a new role-playing experience? I live--so to speak--to be hanged, cooked, and eaten (in fantasy). I would love to hear of your experiences of being cooked and eaten, too. Thanks! 

 

5

General Discussion / Re: How would you like to be cooked?

« on: February 14, 2025, 07:29:58 PM »

Kinda like this would be great ...

Yes, it would! 

6

Fiction / Chuck Roastt Visits Bonnie Cook And Her Hungry Friends For Dinner--Part 02

« on: December 22, 2024, 07:03:45 AM »

Chuck Roastt was excited by the idea of being invited to Farnhamville by the Female Butchers & Cooks, so excited that he came a bit in his white, cotton, oxford cloth boxers as his member throbbed with anticipation. He quickly opened his closets to look at his selection of white dress shirts. She had seemed so intent upon him wearing white dress shirts when he went to dinner at Farnhamville that he wanted to make sure that he had enough and that they were in good shape. He didn’t want to disappoint the Female Butchers & Cooks. He wanted to look, Bonnie Cook had said, good enough to eat. And he checked his neckties, too. But he was frustrated by what he found. His clothing was okay, but he wanted it to be special, as special as the dinner that the Butchers & Cooks were going to have. Given that he had time to update his wardrobe, he used the Internet to rush order some new white dress shirts and neckties. He ordered some white, cotton, long-sleeved, button-down oxford cloth dress shirts; some white, cotton, long-sleeved, point collar, pinpoint oxford cloth dress shirts; some white, cotton, long-sleeved, spread collar pinpoint oxford cloth dress shirts; and some white, cotton, long-sleeved, tab collar dress shirts. And he ordered some solid color silk neckties: black, navy blue, red; and some striped silk neckties in the same colors. He even ordered some bowties in the same colors, too. She hadn’t mentioned wearing a bow tie when he went to Farnhamville for dinner with the Female Butchers & Cooks, but he hoped that it would be okay. He looked good in both four-in-hand neckties and bow ties, and he enjoyed wearing them. He liked the reassuring pressure of his ties on his throat when he tightened them tightly around his neck, so tight that he almost choked, so tight that they felt like little nooses around his neck.

To fill out his special dinner clothing, he also ordered some new white, cotton T-shirts to wear under his dress shirts; 3 pairs each of navy blue, charcoal great, and tan khaki dress slacks; some new white, cotton, pinpoint oxford cloth boxer shorts; 3 pairs of shiny, black, leather dress boots that came up to his ankles; several pairs of black dress socks; 3 shiny, black, leather belts; and other accessories as necessary to complete the man, to complete the image, to make his look “good enough to eat.”

When they arrived, he laid everything out in front of him, each item still in its package to keep it pristine and lightly starched for he liked clean and neat clothes. He wanted to make sure that he had all the clothing that he needed to wear for his special dinner with the Female Butchers & Cooks. When he was satisfied, he planned what he was going to wear on his trip. He kept out 1 white, cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt; 1 solid blue necktie; 1 pair of navy-blue dress slacks; and a belt, and shoes, and socks and such.

He carefully packed everything else into the new luggage he had also ordered, and then he went to bed.

His sleep was interrupted by frightening dreams of being butchered and cooked, but he managed to sleep enough that he felt like waking up at 0500 and loading his car so that he could fit in a long day of driving. He didn’t think that he could make the trip in only one day, as Bonnie Cook had suggested, so he planned his route so that he could stop about halfway to Farnhamville and stay in a hotel overnight.

He took a hot shower and luxuriated in the feel of the jets of water washing him ultra-clean as if he was being prepared for something special. He put on the clothes that he had chosen for driving, got in his car, punched in the proper coordinates, and off he went.

After several hours of driving, he arrived at the hotel he had chosen. He checked in, he took another, long, hot, cleansing, end-of-day shower, and went to bed.

That night his sleep was broken by horrifying dreams of standing on the trapdoors of a gallows while he was wearing a whited, cotton, long-sleeved, button-down oxford cloth dress shirt, and a black necktie. His hands were tied behind his back, and his ankles were tied together. A hangman or perhaps a hangwoman was cinching a rough, rope noose around his neck. He was able to enjoy its reassuring pressure only briefly because then he was hanged. After he was hanged while he was wearing a white shirt and a black necktie, and then he was cooked and eaten while he was still wearing the same beautiful and delicious white shirt and necktie that he had been wearing when he was hanged.

7

Fiction / Chuck Roastt Visits Bonnie Cook And Her Hungry Friends For Dinner--Part 01

« on: December 05, 2024, 11:06:33 PM »

This is just a stub for a much longer fantasy adventure. I shall add more parts of the story later as I write them, and then I'll edit them all for consistency, continuity, and readability. I hope that you enjoy my story as much as Bonnie Cook and her Hungry friends enjoy Chuck Roastt. 

***

Chuck Roastt heard his phone signaling him with its electronic version ringing. He answered on the third ring. “Hello,” he said in his polite, baritone voice, remembering to speak from his diaphragm to sound very muscular and masculine.

“Hello!” said the female voice at the other end of the conversation. “This is Bonnie Cook! May I please speak with Chuck Roastt?”

“Hi, Bonnie! This is Chuck Roastt! I thought that I recognized your voice. I haven’t heard from you since we …” His voice trailed off. “It’s good to hear from you. What can I do for you?”

“Yes, we haven’t spoken since we hooked up! Don’t be embarrassed to say it. I’m not! I loved our time together. And I’d like to see you again! Can you come to a weekend gathering at my home next week? I know that you are busy, and I apologize for the short notice. But it will be meaningless without you. Can you come?”

“Oh! I’d love to come! Yes, I’ll be there! … Wait! Oh, shoot! I can’t do it! I can’t come this weekend.

“Oh! That’s disappointing. I was looking forward to hanging you … I mean, hanging around with you and meeting you again! Well, how about next week? Would that work better?”

“Yes! I can do that! I’m already looking forward to coming! I want very much for us to hang around together again and for us to meet again!”

“Here’s an idea! Why don’t you come and plan to stay for 2 or oven … I mean, even 3 weeks? That will give us more time to hang out and meet again! Can you do that?”

“Yes, I can do that! I’m on vacation over the summer before the fall semester starts!”

“Great! I live on a large estate with several friends. We call it Farnhamville. I’ll send you a map and directions. It’s a long drive, but you can do it in one or at most two days. You’ll love it here! Lots of fresh air, exercise, and good living. We have our own farms where we grow our own fruits and vegetables. And our own grains. We bake our own bread, too. We are very proud of our abilities as bakers.”

“I see.”

“Oh, I hope so! I hope that you can see our baking skills and appreciate them! Firsthand and up close! So close that you can really feel it!” She chuckled.

He chuckled, too, in response and said, “I’d like that!”

She chuckled hungrily and continued, “I’m glad that you’d like that! And there’s more! At Farnhamville, we even raise our own animals! When they are ready to be eaten, we slaughter them and cook them. In fact, the women who live a Farnhamville known as Butchers & Cooks! After we butcher and cook our animals, we eat them! And they’re delicious!”

“Well, I’m a vegetarian, so I don’t eat meat.

“Oh, I had forgotten! Well, we do eat meat—and we certainly will eat meat when you’re with us for our special dinner … eventually—but you won’t. Well, can still include you in our special dinner! We also make our own textured vegetable protein from the soybeans that we grow. It looks, cooks, and tastes exactly like meat. You can eat that! We wouldn’t want you to go without protein to keep you and your large muscles strong and healthy!”

“Sounds good! Yes, I am very interested in my body and my muscles!”

“So am I! Oh, yes! I am very interested in your lovely muscles!”

They both laughed.

Bonnie Cook said, “You’ll need to bring enough clothes for your stay. You’ll need some workout clothes so that you can lift weights and run because I know how important it is to you to stay in shape. It’s important to me, too! We wouldn’t want you to lose any muscle mass!”

Chuck Roastt said, “Thanks for thinking about me and my muscles!”

“Oh, I’m always thinking about you … and your muscles, your large, bulging, beautiful muscles!” She chuckled. “We dress informally here throughout the day, and we would expect you to dress informally, too. We wear white cotton dress shirts. When we are overseeing the farm and the men who work for us, we wear khaki slacks with our white shirts. When we are at home, we wear white cotton dress shirts with red skirts. Sometimes we wear neckties, too, especially when we are exercising executive authority.” She chuckled again.

“As I said, we expect you to dress informally throughout the day during your visit at Farnhamville when you are not working out and taking care of your sweet muscles. No need to wear a suit or a sport coat. Just a white cotton dress shirt. Can you bring several white cotton dress shirts? And some neckties, too? You’ll look so good in a white shirt and a necktie! As the saying goes, you’ll look good enough to eat!” She drooled a bit, licked her lips, and chuckled again.

Chuck Roastt replied, “Well, I don’t know about that, but I’ll do my best! In fact, I’ll go this far. If you think I look good enough to eat, then you can cook me and eat me!” She laughed and said, “I’m glad you said that! Oh, yes, I’m so very glad you said that!” They both laughed as they both thought of him being voluntarily cooked and eaten, but they had very different perspectives on his yummy fate. He thought it was a joke; she knew that it wasn’t.

Then he glanced at his phone and said, “I just received the map and directions on my phone! Thanks! I’ll be in touch before I leave, and I’ll keep you informed about my progress.” He became so excited that he got an erection that rubbed against the inside of his white, cotton, oxford cloth boxer shorts, reinforcing itself with every rub and every throb.

She said, “Great! I can’t wait for you to get her so we can have you for dinner!”

“Until you have me for dinner!” he replied.

She drooled a little, she bit and licked her lips, and she chuckled yet again knowing that she would soon enjoy something very rare and very tasty, indeed, some special living nourishment.

8

Fiction / Re: Our Delicious Bird

« on: December 05, 2024, 01:25:27 AM »

I am very fond of fantasies about muscular, naive, and willing young men being tricked into getting cooked and eaten. When I read them, I always fantasize about getting cooked and eaten myself.  Accordingly, I liked your fantasy very much! Thanks for sharing it! 

9

General Discussion / Re: How would you like to be cooked?

« on: December 04, 2024, 05:41:04 AM »

I love this idea,

I would like to be cooked alive for sure but if i had to be killed be for hand i would want to be pushed into a large Meat Grinder x3 painfull yes but fast.

Thank you for answering my question!

I, too, would like to be put into a meat grinder. I would first be half-hanged while I was wearing white, cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt and a necktie to at least partially anesthetize me so I wouldn't feel much pain, and then lowered into a meat grinder while I was still alive. I would feel myself being ground into hamburger meat before I was cooked and eaten by the hungry cannibal hangwomen & cooks who had hanged me, ground me up, and cooked me.

That said my fav way i would want to be cooked would be as a thanksgiving turkey, I always loved the idea of being tied up with rope my arms tied back, gagged with a large apple and be stuffed with a hole bowl of stove top turkey stuffing. Then have a large carrot put in my butt to keep it all in. Before for I'm put into the oven, I would be covered in butter and spices & have my tiny dick made fun of before it's cut off to be used in another dish.  Then I would get turkey booties on my feet & put in the oven. My gf would be the chef & she with a bull she meet on tinder would go have sex as i was cooked.

I have often thought that I would like to be cooked like a Thanksgiving turkey, too. I would wear a white, cotton, long-sleeved, button-down oxford cloth dress shirt and a necktie. (In almost all my fantasies, I am dressed that way because it turns me on to be dressed so. That fantasy goes way back for me.) It makes no difference to me whether my cannibal chef is female or male. She or he would tie my hands behind my back and my ankles together, gag me with an apple, sprinkle melted butter and spices on me, put little white paper booties on my feet, and pop me in the oven to roast me. Before I was cooked, I would come in my pants, and I would be ecstatic. 

I'd also like the idea of my gf eating me a lot, but as a sissy cuck i think it would also be so hot if she cooked me for a big chubby bull & after he ate me they would fuck as i was digested lol

I'd like that, too. As I said, it makes no difference to me if my cannibal chef is female, male, or both, one or many. After they have cooked me, they can share my delicious meat with anyone they please. I won't mind. I won't even know because I will already be cooked. And eating me would likely make them very happy! 

10

Fiction / Re: My fantasy stories about Chuck Roastt

« on: November 13, 2024, 09:06:40 PM »

I realize that the emphasis in this space is on cannibalism, this blessed haven for our unusual but exciting and satisfying paraphilia, yet Chuck Roastt's captors hang him before they cook him and eat him largely because I have long fantasized about being hanged and cooked before I am eaten. Do people mind that Chuck Roastt's captors hang him before they cook him and eat him? Do people like my Chuck Roastt stories? Shall I post more?

I am open to feedback and suggestions. Thanks!

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Fiction / My fantasy stories about Chuck Roastt

« on: October 31, 2024, 07:00:24 PM »

I deeply enjoy writing, posting, and then reading, and re-reading, and re-reading, etc.  these stories. I hope that others appreciate them, too. They mostly follow a similar path. They all end up with my alter ego Chuck Roastt being executed while he is wearing a white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt with a necktie cinched tightly around his neck like a small noose. Chuck Roastt is usually executed by hanging because I am very turned on by the fantasy of being hanged, and then he is cooked and eaten while he is still wearing the same white shirt and tie that he was wearing when he was hanged (or executed in another manner). My adult fantasies are no doubt influenced by my very happy memories of the fantasies that I played out when I was a boy. My slightly older neighbor was a very demanding, very dominating, and very kinky girl, and I thank her.

I hope that folks are not bored by my stories even though they are somewhat predictable. I have more ideas for stories, but they are only outlines right now. I will eventually finish and post them, too.

However, I don't want to dominate this space. That would be rude.

I hope that other folks write and post their stories, too. I would love to read them.

Thanks! 

12

Fiction / The Trial Of Chuck Roastt--Part 4

« on: October 31, 2024, 02:10:37 AM »

Chuck Roastt did not sleep well that night. His rest was interrupted by nightmares of being executed and becoming someone's dinner. He was terrified by the impending reality of what was going to happen to him the following day. No matter what he said or did, he knew that we going to be hanged while he was wearing a white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt and a necktie cinched tightly around his neck like a little noose, and then he was going to be cooked and eaten while he was still wearing the same delicious white shirt and tie that he had been wearing when he was hanged.

At 1000 the next day, Chuck Roastt was roused from his fitful sleep. He was greeted by Bonnie Cook, who was standing outside his cell along with several other women. They were all wearing white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirts and neckties, their special Hangwomen & Cooks’ uniforms. Their mouths were watering, and they all licked their lips as they thought about the delicious meat that they were going to enjoy eating ravenously and victoriously after they hanged him and cooked him. They knew it was going to be his meat that they were going to eat … and so did he. He cringed at the thought of becoming the main course at their dinner. The Hangwomen & Cooks were all staring at him longingly and hungrily because they were at their core cruel, dominatrix cannibals who were soon going to get a reward of fresh meat--his meat--after they hanged him and cooked him.

Chuck Roastt was even more uneasy because he realized that was no longer a man; he was just a commodity, a farm animal about to be slaughtered in his first step along the way to becoming meat, to becoming someone’s dinner.

The Hangwomen & Cooks were accompanied by the men who had abducted him, the Assistant Hangmen & Cooks. All of them were also wearing white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirts and neckties, their special Assistant Hangmen & Cooks’ uniforms. Their mouths were also watering, and they all licked their lips as they thought about the delicious meat that they were going to enjoy eating ravenously and victoriously after they helped the Hangwomen & Cooks hang him and cook him. The Assistant Hangmen & Cooks were also very relieved. They were off the hook--and off the cook, so to speak--at least for this meal. They were not going to hanged, cooked, and eaten by the Hangwomen & Cooks, who were focused--at least for now--on hanging, cooking, and eating Chuck Roastt.

The Assistant Hangmen & Cooks knew it was going to be the meat of Chuck Roastt that the Hangwomen & Cooks were soon going to enjoy eating … and again so did Chuck Roastt. He shook with terror even more at the thought. The Assistant Hangmen & Cooks were all staring at him longingly and hungrily because they were at their core slaves of the cruel, dominatrix cannibals. They also knew that they were soon going to get a reward for their loyalty, efficiency, and devotion to duty in helping the Hangwomen & Cooks hang and cook Chuck Roastt, a reward of fresh meat--his meat--after they helped the Hangwomen & Cooks hang him and cook him.

They knew it was going to be him that they would soon eat ... and again so did he. He cringed and cowered even more at the thought of being hanged just so he could become their dinner after he had been cooked. He was a man in his own eyes, but he was just meat to them, and he was afraid. He was very afraid because he knew that he was about to be hanged, cooked, and eaten, and he couldn't do anything about it. All he could do now was think about the gallows, the noose, the drop, and the oven that were in his future.

The Assistant Hangmen & Cooks were all staring at him longingly and hungrily because they were at their core the slaves of the dominatrix cannibals who knew that they had to execute the orders of the Hangwomen & Cooks swiftly, completely, and without question even if it meant mercilessly executing the delicious looking Chuck Roastt by helping to hang and cook him if they did not want to be hanged and cooked themselves. The Hangwomen & Cooks had forced them to become cannibals, too, to make them more willing and eager to help hang and cook Chuck Roastt so they could eat him. And they found that they loved the taste! They knew that they were soon going to get a reward of fresh meat--his meat--after they helped the Hangwomen & Cooks hang him and cook him.

Bonnie Cook ordered the Assistant Hangmen & Cooks to take him to a nearby shower and to roughly scrub him so that his skin would be clean and sterile, and ready to be cooked. They scrubbed him harshly to prove their dominance over him. In spite of knowing that he was about to be hanged, he was aroused. He got an erection, and ironically he felt good in spite of knowing that he was about to be hanged, cooked, and eaten. When the shower was complete, the Hangwomen & Cooks dried him. They were deliberately erotic in rubbing him dry, giving him one last special feeling before they hanged him because they knew that he would hang better, cook better, and taste better if he were hanged in a state of ecstasy. Even more aroused, his cock became rock hard, and a little hot, white, sweet molten man dribbled from his dick.

Then Bonnie Cook handed Chuck Roastt a new set of clothes for him to wear when he was hanged and cooked—a fresh white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, dress oxford cloth hanging shirt and the rest of his hanging clothes. Then she ordered the Assistant Hangmen & Cooks to dress him and prepare him for being hanged. His rock hard dick made a little tent in his pants, and he came a little more.

Bonnie Cook ordered the Assistant Hangmen & Cooks to pinion his hands behind his back and to securely tie his wrists together with a short length of strong 1/4 inch rope so that he could not fight back and avoid or at least delay being hanged. Although he knew that he was about to be hanged, he enjoyed the rough feeling of the rope on his wrists, and he came a little bit more.

Faced with soon being ultimately and inevitably hanged, Chuck Roastt protested, “But I have done nothing wrong! I have broken no laws! How can you in good conscience hang me?”

Bonnie Cook said, “That trivial detail does not matter! Whether you are guilty or not guilty is irrelevant! What is true or false is also irrelevant! The process has spoken and decided your fate! You have been legally and properly tried, convicted, and sentenced to death! You are going to be hanged! And we are going to hang you! Now!” She chuckled, “It’s as if Franz Kafka himself had written this script about your trial and punishment just so we could hang you, cook you, and eat you! And now, we shall!”

Chuck Roastt was paralyzed with fear and anxiety. He couldn't move. He cowered and said haltingly, "I'm afraid! I don't want to be hanged! I'm afraid and I don’t know what to do! I can't move! Help me! If you're going to hang me, I'll need your help!”

Bonnie Cook replied, “Oh, we'll help you get hanged, don’t worry! We are very hungry, and we know how to hang you so we can cook you and eat you! We know what we’re doing! We’ll show you the ropes!” Then she laughed hungrily. The other Hangwomen & Cooks and the Assistant Hangmen & Cooks laughed hungrily, too.

As Chuck Roastt whimpered and moaned about his inevitable fate, the execution procession formed. As Chief Hangwoman& Cook, Bonnie Cook was in the lead. The other Hangwomen & Cooks followed her. Behind them came Chuck Roastt surrounded by the Assistant Hangmen & Cooks, who grabbed him and held him tightly to guard him and prevent him from escaping or delaying his eventual and inevitable hanging. In spite of his knowing that he was about to be hanged, he liked feeling their strong hands through the rough-smooth texture of his white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt, his hanging and cooking shirt. They briskly marched Chuck Roastt to the gallows, forced him up the steps to the platform of the gallows, and placed him on the trapdoors beneath the noose. Chuck Roastt shook with fear and anxiety.

Bonnie Cook laughed and said, “See? I’m showing you the ropes just as I promised!” Then she put the noose over his head, pulled it down to his neck, and cinched it tight with the hangman’s knot in the sub-aural position behind the left angle of his jaw, the best placement for hanging him to ensure that his neck would break instantly when he was hanged. She read the order of execution.

"Chuck Roastt, you have been indicted, tried, convicted, and sentenced to death! We are going to hang you now! Are you ready to be hanged? If you are brave and reply in the positive that you are ready to be hanged, then I will make your death swift and sure! You will feel nothing when you are hanged! You will taste better when we eat you after we have cooked you if you act bravely in the face of being hanged!

"On the other hand, If you are a coward and reply in the negative that you are not ready to be hanged, that will indicate fear and a lack of cooperation, and I will change the position of the hangman's knot on your neck to make your death by hanging long, slow, and very painful because you will not taste as good when we eat you after we have cooked you! Therefore, I repeat, are you ready to be hanged?"

Given little choice, Chuck Roastt straightened up, threw his chest out, and declared as bravely as he could in the face of imminent death by hanging, "Yes, I am ready to be hanged!"

Before he had a chance to change his mind or say another word, she swiftly pulled the lever and mercilessly hanged him. She loved hanging men because they always put on a show that stoked her cruelty as their necks broke and they died. Chuck Roastt was not a disappointment. He bounced twice when he reached the end of his rope and did several seconds of noose-dancing before he went limp. Although she heard his neck break when she hanged him, and although she saw his head jerk swiftly back and to his right, she left him hanging with the noose around his neck for 60 minutes to ensure that he was really dead and ready to be cooked. Then the Assistant Hangmen & Cooks cut him down and placed him in a roasting pan resting on a nearby, heavy-duty kitchen cart.

The Hangwomen & Cooks wheeled the cart into the kitchen where the oven had been pre-heating. They shoved an apple in his mouth, poured olive oil on him, and seasoned him. Then they opened the oven door, shoved him in, shut the door, and cooked him. While he was cooking, the Hangwomen & Cooks opened the oven door several times, yanked him out, and basted him. To check to see if he was done, they poked him with a meat fork and used a meat thermometer. Several hours later when they judged that he had been thoroughly cooked, they opened the oven door, yanked him out, and placed the roasting pan on the kitchen cart.

They wheeled him into the dining hall where the heavy tables already set for the dinner that was to be him were waiting. The Assistant Hangmen & Cooks joined them. The Hangwomen & Cooks carved him and served him. The Hangwomen & Cooks along with the Assistant Hangmen & Cooks ate him with voracious and eager cannibal delight. And he tasted so good!

13

Fiction / The Trial Of Chuck Roastt--Part 3

« on: October 27, 2024, 09:53:15 PM »

Finally, the van stopped. With his hands still tied behind his back and his ankles shackled, he couldn’t stand up by himself. The other men were in command and control of him, and they knew it … and he knew it, too. They could make him do anything they wanted … and they did. They roughly took him off the metal table and stood him up, restraining him and holding him steady so that he did not lose his balance or try to escape.

The leader took ahold of the rope leash around his neck. The leader and the other men half marched him and half dragged him out of the van. Chuck Roastt saw that they were in a valley surrounded by mountains that cast dark shadows everywhere. The eerie darkness was made even darker by storm clouds passing overhead. He was surrounded by a deep dark that he could both see and feel. He let slip a gasp, and a shudder shook his whole fit, trim body beneath his white cotton long-sleeved, button-down dress oxford cloth dress shirt and his navy silk necktie with preppy, diagonal red and white stripes. The leader noticed and asked, “Are you afraid? Well, maybe you should be! Maybe you’ll find out very soon why you SHOULD BE AFRAID!” And he and the other men laughed long and hard again.

And, indeed, Chuck Roastt was even more afraid.

They walked in silence toward what looked to Chuck Roastt like an old chateau, and his captors led him to the chateau. He cried out in pain, “Be careful! Go easy on that leash! It hurts! I’m getting a pain in my neck!” The men all laughed again, and the leader said, “You should get used to having a rope around your neck, and you should also get accustomed to getting a pain in your neck! That’ll come in handy were you’re going, too!” And the men all laughed again. It seemed to Chuck Roastt that their laugh was a bit more ominous this time.

The men led him to the door of the chateau, and the leader used the heavy, iron knocker to announce their arrival. There was no response, so he knocked again. This time, a beautiful young woman opened the door. She was dressed like all the women at Chuck Roastt’s office, that is, she was wearing a white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down dress oxford cloth shirt, a red silk necktie with preppy diagonal blue and white strips, and a red skirt. Chuck Roastt recognized her as Kara Cook from his office. With her were two beautiful young women who were dressed just as she was. Chuck Roastt recognized them as more women from his office, Kara’s sisters, Julie Cook and Lori Cook.

Kara Cook smiled at him longingly and hungrily as she said, “Welcome, Chuck Roastt! Welcome to the chateau! We have been expecting you! We have been wanting to have you here for a very long time! You’re going to get very special treatment while you are here! We have made very special arrangements just for you!”

Chuck Roastt asked warily, “What special arrangements?”

Still smiling, Kara Cook said, “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough! No need to worry about that now! You’ll have plenty of time to think about that later!”

Kara Cook continued, “You look so very handsome in your white cotton long-sleeved, button-down oxford cloth dress shirt and your blue silk necktie with preppy diagonal red and white stripes! As the saying goes, ‘You look good enough to eat!’” Then she kissed him on the cheek, licked her lips, and said, “Oh, good! You taste good enough to eat, too!”

She continued, “I have always been fascinated by this fact. Have you noticed that our neckties complement each other? Where yours is blue, white, and red, ours are red, white, and blue. Even though they are similar and both patriotic, they formalize our different stations in the relationship between us! Do you understand?”

Chuck Roastt responded nervously, “No, not really.”

Kara Cook reassured him, “You will soon enough! Oh yes! Soon enough, you will definitely understand!” And then she laughed.

With the men still guarding him and holding his leash, the three women led the strange procession into the chateau, through a large dining hall filled with heavy wooden tables set for a meal, and through a large kitchen to a prison cell located just off the kitchen. Its iron bars alarmed Chuck Roast! The women unlocked the cell door, took the leash off his neck, pushed him roughly inside it, closed and locked the door behind him, and sternly announced. “You are our prisoner! You will follow orders, or you will be punished! Severely!”

“As you sit at attention on that cot awaiting further orders—and your fate—and you will take extra special care not to wrinkle your white cotton long-sleeved, button-down oxford cloth dress shirt; your necktie; and your navy dress slacks!” The men remained outside his cell to guard him. The Cook sisters continued to stare at him longingly and hungrily. Chuck Roastt thought that they were all a little too intent upon him not wrinkling his white shirt, his tie, and his other clothes because they shouted a reminder several times as he shifted his weight on the cot because he was so anxious. “Why do they care so much about my white shirt and my necktie? And what severe punishment was she threatening?” he wondered.

A few minutes later, several women appeared at his cell. They were also wearing white cotton long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirts and red silk neckties with preppy blue and white diagonal stripes. He was shocked to see that his boss, Bonnie Cook, was among them.

As the leader of the women, Bonnie Cook spoke sharply to him, “We are your captors and your owners!”

Chuck Roastt asked warily, “Owners?”

Bonnie Cook continued, “Silence! Yes, your owners! You are our prisoner and our slave! You must obey our orders, or you will be punished! Severely! And we can command you to do ANYTHING! You must submit to our dominance! We have the power of life and death over you! You will live if that pleases us … and … YOU WILL DIE IF THAT PLEASES US! YOU WILL SERVE US AT OUR PLEASURE, ... AND WE WILL SERVE YOU AT OUR PLEASURE!”

The other women and the other men laughed.

Chuck Roastt began to speak, but Bonnie Cook cut him off. “Silence! You will be silent! And you will obey orders!”

She continued, “You will address each of us as ‘Mistress’! If you address us in any other manner, you will be punished! Severely!

“You are in gravy trouble! You have committed a crime! You will be tried for that crime, and you will be severely punished if you are found guilty! You are most definitely in gravy trouble!”

Frightened and confused, Chuck Roastt timidly asked, “Do mean grave trouble?”

She laughed and replied, “That, too!” Then she and the other women and all the other men laughed, too.

And Chuck Roastt was even more afraid.

Bonnie Cook said swiftly, “This is your trial. I am the Chief Judge, and Kara Cook and Julie Cook are the assistant judges. Lori Cook is the prosecutor. I ask for 12 women to volunteer for your jury.” Twelve hands quickly rose in the air, and the jury box was quickly filled by the 12 volunteers.

“Prosecutor, present your case against Chuck Roastt!”

Lori Cook presented the evidence against Chuck Roastt. It didn’t take long. She ended by saying to the jury, “I ask for verdict of guilty and a sentence of death by hanging!”

The 12 women of jury did not even have to retire to the jury room to deliberate. They took a quick vote. All 12 jurors found him guilty.

In their roles as judges, Chief Judge Bonnie Cook, and assistant judges Kara Cook and Julie Cook said, “We accept your verdict!”

To defendant Chuck Roastt, they solemnly declared, “We find you guilty as charged and sentence you to death by hanging! Tomorrow at noon, you will be taken to a place of public execution, and there you will be hanged by the neck until you are dead! But your punishment does not end there! You deserve more! After you have been hanged, you will be cooked and eaten! So ordered!”

Bonnie Cook said sternly, “As well as being the Chief Judge, I am the Chief Hangwoman & Cook as well, and I will both hang you and cook you! And because I am very, very hungry, I cannot wait to hang you expeditiously so I can cook you and eat you as soon as possible!”

14

Fiction / The Trial Of Chuck Roastt--Part 2

« on: October 26, 2024, 08:07:14 PM »

At 0800, he cooked some meat and fried some potatoes for breakfast before he left work. He loved the smell of cooking meat. It was so … manly. “The meat will help my muscles grow large and strong, and I need the oil and the carbs from the fried potatoes, too,” he said out loud because he was obsessed with his body, his level of fitness, his muscles, and his strength. He thought that the men and women at his office were obsessed with his body, his level of fitness, his muscles, and his strength, too. Remembering his experiences earlier that morning with his shirt, his pants, and his necktie, he pondered as his meat cooked, “I wonder what it feels like to be a piece cooking meat being cooked?”

He always ate uneventfully, but as he sat down to eat that day, there was a harsh knock at the door. When he opened it, he was overwhelmed by several young men about his age who rushed into the room and grabbed him. They were dressed just as he was in white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirts and silk ties with preppy diagonal red and white stripes. Even though they followed Bonnie Cook’s dress code, he didn’t know them. In fact, he had never seen them before. What he didn’t know, however, was that they used to work in the same office that he did, and that Bonnie Cook had recruited them for a very special task involving Chuck Roastt that … and whom … they were about to execute.

As he stood there shocked and wearing his white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt and a navy silk necktie with preppy diagonal red and white stripes, he asked, “Who are you?” One of them, apparently the leader, replied severely, “Silence, Chuck Roastt! We are here to arrest you and take you to headquarters, that’s who we are! Our prisoner is who you are! You do not need to know more! Indeed, you have no right to know more!”

He shouted an order to the other men. “Pinion his arms behind his back and tie his wrists together!” They quickly produced a short length of strong rope and executed the order. Chuck Roastt was rapidly immobilized with his hands tied behind his back and could not resist. He was theirs to dominate at will, and dominate him they did.

Then the leader barked at Chuck Roastt, “You are under arrest! You are our prisoner! You must obey all orders, or you will be punished! Severely! Come with us! Men, take charge of the prisoner!”

They grabbed Chuck Roastt. He struggled and tried to resist, but there were so many men holding him, and they had grabbed him so firmly and held him so tightly that his efforts to escape were useless. He was a helpless captive, submissive to their dominance. They tied a rope around his neck and used it as a leash to lead him as they would lead an animal. They half marched him and half dragged him out of his room to a van waiting outside.

It was like a police van set up to transport prisoners, but with special modifications. Inside the van was a metal table. The leader said to the other men, “Secure him on the isolation table!” His captors picked him up laid him face down on the table, shackled his ankles together, and strapped him down. Then they took their seats around him to guard him. They were armed with electric cattle prods to keep him under control.

Chuck Roastt cried out, “What the Hell are you doing?” One of the men shocked him to quiet him and make him compliant. The leader shouted, “Silence! You are our prisoner! Because you are lying prone, because your hands are tied behind your back, because your ankles are shackled together, and because you are strapped down, you cannot resist! You must be submissive to our dominance! You are our prisoner, and no matter what you say or do, you cannot escape! Be silent, lie still, and obey orders!”

Chuck Roastt responded indignantly, “I will NOT be silent!” Another of the men shocked him again, and he cried out in pain! “Why the Hell are you doing this to me? Where the Hell are you taking me?” The leader took an apple from a bag, shoved it in his mouth, and said, “Because you have defied the order to stay silent, this shiny red apple will serve as a gag to shut you up.” Then the leader laughed and said, “Besides, you should get used to having an apple in your mouth! That will come in handy where you’re going!” The other men laughed, too. “And it’s ironic that you should mention Hell! You should get accustomed to the flames of Hell, too! That’s going to come in even handier where you’re going!” Then he and the other men laughed again.

Chuck Roastt was uneasy and afraid in a way he had never been before. He was wearing a white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down oxford cloth dress shirt and a necktie, and he was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and tied down on a table awaiting his unknown destination and his unknown fate.

Chuck Roastt was frightened. What punishment was his threatening? He sensed he was in danger, but he had no idea what was going on and what would happen next. He resolved that he would do whatever his captors demanded even though he was very, very frightened.

Though he was afraid, he also found ironically that he was beginning to be aroused. He liked being grabbed and handled roughly by the other men. He liked that he could feel their strong hands on his muscular body through the rough/smooth texture of his white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down oxford cloth dress shirt. He liked feeling his hands tied behind his back. He liked being ordered around. He liked being dominated, and he resolved that he would do whatever they demanded even though he was very, very frightened.

The leader said to Chuck Roastt, “We don’t want you to be cold, so I’ll turn on the heater. It’s under the table. You should be warmer soon.” Then he and the other men laughed again. Chuck Roastt said, “I don’t need to be warmer! In fact, I’m getting too hot!” Then the leader said, “You should get used to being hot! That will all also come in very handy where you’re going!” Then he and the other men laughed again. Chuck Roastt shouted, “I feel like I’m being cooked! ” Then the leader said, “You should get used to that, too, because that will come in even handier where you’re going!” Then he and the other men laughed even louder and longer.

The leader took the driver’s seat, put the van in gear, and off they went. They rode for a long time, but because Chuck Roastt was facing down and couldn’t see, he had no idea where they were or where they were going.

15

Fiction / The Trial Of Chuck Roastt--Part 1

« on: October 25, 2024, 11:12:20 PM »

Someone must have been telling lies about Chuck Roastt. Or perhaps someone had made a mistake. He knew that he had done nothing wrong, but one morning without warning, he was arrested.

Every weekday morning, he arose, showered, shaved, and dressed for the upcoming workday. He always dressed professionally. He enjoyed dressing professionally. He always wore a white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt; a beautiful silk necktie; navy dress slacks; a black leather belt; black socks; and black leather dress boots.

Though he had ironed them the night before, Chuck Roastt ironed his white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt white and navy dress slacks again to make sure that he looked his very, very best. He put on his white dress shirt first and then his navy dress slacks. He winced because they were still very warm, almost hot. He yelped, “That must be what it feels like to be cooked! ” He shuddered as the morbid but fascinating thought of being cooked flashed involuntarily and uneasily across his unwilling mind. He thought to himself, “But I don’t want to be cooked! I wonder where that odd, threatening thought came from?

Then he threaded his necktie around his muscular neck under the collar of his white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt. He tied a neat four-in-hand knot in it and cinched his necktie snugly around his neck. He was a little too enthusiastic and tightened it so much that he began to choke. Bemused and alarmed, he said to himself, “And THAT must be what it feels like to be hanged! ” He shuddered again as he imagined dropping from the platform of a gallows with a noose around his neck.

With those slightly threatening thoughts in mind, he noted, not for the first time, that a necktie was like a little noose that men had to wear to be well dressed, and to follow the rules that someone else had written and enforced. Those rules dictated that men must wear white shirts and neckties to be successful and for women to want them, but he shrugged his muscular shoulders and sighed resignedly. He said to himself, “If that’s how men must dress to be wanted, to fit in, to hang on, and to become what they are destined to be, then I’ll wear a white shirt and tie, too, and I’ll like it!”

Then he finished dressing himself. He put on his black leather belt, his black socks, and his black leather dress boots that he had spit-polished to a high shine the night before.

He admired himself in the mirror. He looked good, very good, in his white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down oxford cloth dress shirt and his navy silk necktie with preppy, diagonal red and white stripes. Yes, he looked good. Indeed, he looked damn good!

He didn’t protest the strict dress code at his office as many men might. In fact, he wanted it, and he didn’t mind it at all. He liked the way he looked when he dressed up that way. He thought that the women in his office paid more attention to him when he did. He was right, but he didn’t yet know precisely the extent and the intent of their attention.

Of course, the dress code applied to all the other people at his office, too. The other men, the women, and his even boss, Bonnie Cook, followed the strict dress code. In fact, it was Bonnie Cook who had initiated the dress code and demanded that everyone rigorously adhere to it or face unspecified punishment.

Just as he did, the other men also wore white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirts; navy silk neckties with preppy, diagonal red and white stripes; navy dress slacks; black leather belts; black socks; and black leather dress boots.

The women were dressed similarly. They wore white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirts; red skirts; black leather belts; and black leather high heels. Although they were not required to wear neckties, many of them often wore red silk neckties with preppy, diagonal navy and white stripes.

Boss Bonnie Cook always wore a white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt; a red skirt; a red silk necktie with preppy, diagonal navy and white stripes, a black belt, and highly polished, shiny, black high heels. The men and women in the office could tell when she was on the move because they could hear the urgent click of her demanding and dominating high heels on the hard floor. She was most definitely a high-powered, no-nonsense executive, and her orders were to be executed immediately without question, without hesitation, and without deviation. To demonstrate her position as chief executive, she hung a noose from a beam near the ceiling in one corner of her office that bore a sign reading, “I WILL NOT HESITATE TO USE MY EXECUTIVE AUTHORITY!” All the men thought that she was joking; all the women knew that she was not.

Bonnie Cook used unusual judicial, penal, punishment, and farm animal metaphors to conduct business.

She kept a 2-foot-tall working model of a gallows on her desk complete with a little doll, a noosed man, a victim wearing a white shirt and a tie standing on the platform of the gallows waiting to be hanged. During staff meetings, she would emphasize her points and end the meetings by pulling the little lever on the gallows platform and hanging the doll that she had had specially made. His little jointed neck audibly snapped, and his little head was jerked to his right when he reached the end of his rope when he was hanged, and he let out a little cry when his neck broke. No one ever disagreed with her. She dominated meetings, and she dominated everything and everyone else at the office. Her words and her will were law.

The women idolized and respected her. They looked up to her as a role model, a mentor, a leader, and a boss. They would happily and instantly obey any order she gave them; they would execute any plan she ordered. They dressed like she did because of the dress code, of course, but their white cotton long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirts and red silk neckties with preppy blue and white diagonal strips also showed their devotion to her, strengthened by a special secret that they shared with her and with each other, a delicious secret, indeed. Their devotion to her added to the strength she had and the domination she displayed.

The men, on the other hand, were afraid of her and intimidated by her. They respected Bonnie Cook and obeyed her orders because they had to, not because they wanted to. She could hire them and fire them at will, and because of that, in a way, she had the power of life and death over them, and she constantly reminded them of that. To emphasize that point, she would often grasp a man’s necktie and use it as a leash to lead him around like an animal, shouting, “I’m leading this beef to slaughter! He deserves to be slaughtered and cooked!” to humiliate him and make him do whatever she wanted.

Occasionally, she would grab a man’s necktie and tighten the knot so tightly that the necktie became like a hangman’s noose around his neck, and he would begin to gag and choke like a man being hanged. Bonnie Cook would flatly announce that she had the power of life and death over the men saying, “See? I can execute a man anytime I want!”

The men thought that she was speaking metaphorically; the women knew that she was not.

When she said something like that, the men laughingly shrugged it off attributing it to her eccentricity and harsh management style; the women waited silently and hungrily for the special dinner that they knew was soon to come.

One time, to punish him for some misfeasance unknown to him, Bonnie Cook ordered Chuck Roastt to stand at attention by the noose in her office while he was wearing a white cotton, long-sleeved, button-down dress oxford cloth shirt and his navy silk necktie with prepper diagonal red and white stripes. She strode over to him and put the noose around his neck. He had to stand there at attention for an hour before she dismissed him. Fortunately, he did not trip, and his knees did not buckle so he didn’t hang himself … although she seemed disappointed that he hadn’t.

Because Bonnie Cook had the power of life and death over Chuck Roastt, he knew it, … and she knew it, too, and she often secretly licked her lips as she dreamed about hanging him, cooking him, and eating him.

But that was at the office. Still at home and getting dressed for work, he looked at himself in the mirror again. He was fit, trim, and muscular, and he knew it, and these clothes showed off his well-muscled physique. He liked being ogled by the women in the office. As the old saying went, he looked good enough to eat, and he knew it.

What he didn’t know was how accurate that adage was. He didn’t know that he would soon be at the end of his rope, and he didn’t know how brief and how hot—how oven-hot—his future would be.

But unbeknownst to him, Bonnie Cook knew. Every time she saw him in the office wearing his white cotton, long-sleeved, button down oxford cloth dress shirt and his blue silk necktie with preppy diagonal red and white stripes, she secretly plotted to make that future happen and licked her lips as she did because she also thought he looked good enough to eat … and she was going to eat him after she had hanged him and cooked him.

Blindly unaware Chuck Roastt thought that his life was going great, and today was no exception. He looked great, and he felt great. The pain in his neck that he had gotten from doing neck strengthening exercises at the gym the day before still ached, but it was less noticeable and bothersome. He was on top. Nothing could go wrong. He wouldn’t drop, he wouldn’t fall, he wouldn’t break, and he would never be fired. In fact, he would never even feel any uncomfortable heat.

Or so he thought.