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Fiction / Training Table
« on: October 09, 2023, 02:29:28 AM »
Chuck Roastt was very busy, as busy as a grad student could be. He took two classes every semester. He also taught two classes every semester. That left him little time to do anything else. And he was paid so little to teach that he had to get an extra job as a tutor for the football team just to meet expenses. He worked with them every weekday evening for 2-4 hours and often more on weekends. That left him little time for anything else. He was so tired at the end of the day that he wished something would rescue him. Anything would be better than his endless toil and suffering. Anything.

Though none of the other grad students did, he always dressed professionally both for the classes he took and for the classes he taught. He wore a white dress shirt, a necktie, and dark slacks. Because he always went directly from classes to the stadium, he was always dressed in a white dress shirt, a necktie, and dark slacks when he tutored the football players.

After practice one day, the athletes showed and dressed in white shirts and ties because they were going to meet the press. After the athletes had dressed, they went to a special dining hall at the stadium just for them. They called it “Training Table” because the special food that they ate was part of their training to make them larger, stronger, and more aggressive. They ate massive amounts of meat to satisfy their hunger, which was especially intense after practice. They always invited Chuck Roastt to eat with them, and he always did. They always joked that he was too thin. Although they knew that Chuck Roastt lifted weights 3 times per week and ran 40-50 miles per week, they teased him that he needed to gain weight and work out more to give him larger muscles.

After they had eaten, Chuck Roastt helped them, mostly with math and composition. Because he was willing to work with them for hours, even overnight if necessary especially if they faced a test the next day, they were very fond of Chuck Roastt. And they admired the fact that he was always dressed so well. More than one of them had joked that Chuck Roastt looked good enough to eat. And he did.

One night, a few of the athletes asked Chuck Roastt to come with them to the kitchen because they had something special for him. When they arrived, the football players surrounded him, subdued him, and tied him up. One of the athletes put him in a chokehold and choked him into submission.

Then they picked him and placed him in one of the enormous roasting pans that were used to cook the enormous amount of meat that they ate. As he was beginning to regain consciousness, they slid the pan into one of the enormous ovens and shut its door.

From outside the oven, the football players could hear him begin to moan as the oven heated up. As it heated up more and more, he moaned more and more. After a long time, he stopped moaning. He became silent, and they knew he was dead, cooked through, done, looking good enough to eat wearing the white shirt and tie that they had cooked him in, and looking ready to eat, so they ate him, completing their compliment, fulfilling their promise, and filling their stomachs. Yes, he did look good enough to eat, and he was quite delicious.

As his tasty meat molecules melded with their muscles, their own meat, they practiced extra hard the next day. Because of Training Table and Chuck Roastt.

General Discussion / Happenings
« on: May 18, 2023, 03:38:03 AM »
Does anyone have anything new to share? I desperately yearn for new questions, new discussions, new stories, new encounters, new chef experiences, new meat experiences, new dinner prep experiences, new cooking experiences, new being cooked experiences, new eating experiences, new being eaten experiences. They are a lifeline for me, so to speak, even though in my fantasies I end up dead because I have been cooked and eaten. They keep me afloat. I need them.


I remain your willing meat-to-be, ready to be prepared, cooked, and eaten. Please.

Chuck Roast

Fiction / The Trial of Chuck LeBouef: Part 1
« on: March 30, 2023, 07:18:24 AM »
This is just a stub, the beginning of a story. I'll add to it and revise what I have written from time to time. I already have an outline, but I have not written the full story. I have begun to expand and revise it. Enjoy! :)

Someone must have been telling lies about Chuck LeBouef. Or perhaps someone had made a mistake. He knew that he had done nothing wrong, but one morning with no warning, he was arrested.

Every weekday morning, he arose, showered, shaved, and dressed himself for the upcoming workday. His boss, a woman, was very strict about how he dressed in the office: white dress shirt; necktie; navy slacks; a black leather belt; black socks; and well-shined black dress boots. He didn’t mind the strict dress code. He liked the way he looked and felt when he dressed that way. He was fit, firm, trim, and muscular, and he knew it, and these clothes showed off his well-muscled physique. He liked being ogled by the women, and he liked being envied--and sometimes ogled--by the men.

Today was no exception. He looked great, and he felt great. The pain in his neck that he had gotten from neck strengthening exercises at the gym the day before had gone away at least for the time being. He was on top of the world. Nothing could go wrong for him. Nothing could cause him to fall.

Or so he thought.
At 8:00 in the morning, he cooked some meat and potatoes for breakfast before he left for work, and he always ate uneventfully. But as he sat down to eat that day, there was a knock at the door. When he opened the door, he was overwhelmed by several young men about his age who rushed into his room. They were dressed as he was, but they weren’t from his office. He didn’t even know them. He asked, “Who are you?” One of them, apparently the leader, replied, “Silence! 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. You are nothing. Pinion his arms behind his back and handcuff his wrists together,” he ordered the other men. Then he barked at Chuck LeBouef, “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 LeBouef. He struggled and tried to resist, but the men had grabbed him so firmly and held him so tightly that his efforts were useless. He was a helpless captive. 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 and half dragged him out of his room to a van waiting outside. The inside of the van was set up like an ambulance with a gurney in the center. His captors picked him up and laid him face down on the gurney, shackled his ankles together, and strapped him down. His captors took their seats around him. Chuck LeBoeuf cried out, “What the Hell are you doing?” The leader shouted, “Silence! You are our prisoner. Because you are lying prone, because your hands are cuffed behind your back, because your ankles are shackled together, and because you are strapped down, you cannot resist. You are our prisoner, and no matter what you say and do, you cannot escape. Be silent, lie still, and obey orders!”

Chuck LeBouef demanded indignantly, “I will not be silent! 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 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!” 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 handy where you’re going!” Then he and the other men laughed louder and longer.

Chuck LeBouef was afraid in a way that he had never been afraid before.

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 LeBouef was facing down and couldn’t see, he had no idea where they were or where they were going.

Finally, the van stopped. With his hands still cuffed behind his back and his ankles shackled together, he couldn’t stand up by himself, and even if he could have, he wouldn’t have been able to maintain his balance with his ankles restrained so close together as they were. They 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. The leader took hold of the leash. He and the other men half marched him and half dragged him out of the van. Chuck LeBouef saw that they were in a valley surrounded by mountains that cast dark shadows everywhere. The eerie darkness was made 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 shiver shook his whole body. The leader noticed and asked, “Are you afraid? Well, maybe you should be!” And he and the other men laughed long and hard again.

And Chuck LeBouef was even more afraid.

The men half marched him and half dragged him into 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 accustomed to having a rope around your neck, and you should also get accustomed to a pain in your neck! That will come in handy where you’re going, too!”

They led him into the chateau, through a huge dining hall, and through a large kitchen to a prison cell behind the kitchen, pushed him inside, and said, “You are our prisoner! You will follow orders, or you will be punished! Severely! You will sit on the cot and wait here!”

A few minutes later, several women appeared at his cell. They also wore white dress shirts like his. Some of them wore neckties, too. He was shocked to see his boss, Bonnie Cook, among them.

And Chuck LeBouef was even more afraid.

As the leader of the women, Bonnie Cook spoke sharply to him, “We are your captors and your owners! You are our prisoner are our slave! We have the power of life and death over you! You exist only for our pleasure! You live at our pleasure, and you died at our pleasure! You will obey our orders, or you will be punished! Severely! You will serve us at our pleasure! We will serve you at our pleasure!” The other women and the other men laughed.

Chuck Leboeuf began to speak, but she cut him off. “Silence! You will be silent! And you will follow orders!

“At this point in the proceedings, you will be referred to and addressed as ‘Chuck LeBoeuf’ or ‘the prisoner.’

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

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

Frightened and puzzled, he meekly asked, “Do you mean grave trouble?”

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

And Chuck LeBouef was even more afraid.

General Discussion / Does Anyone Have Something New To Share?
« on: August 08, 2022, 01:53:53 AM »
Things have been sadly quiet here of late. Does anyone have something new to share? Perhaps a new topic for discussion? Perhaps a question that might stimulate conversation? Perhaps a question about a personal experience? Perhaps an observation? Perhaps a fantasy? Perhaps a recipe? Perhaps a description of how the female and male chefs & cannibals who have chosen you for their special meal will prepare you for being cooked? Will cook you? Perhaps a description of how it feels to be sitting in your cell knowing your inevitable and inescapable fate, terrified because you know you are very soon going to be cooked and eaten? Perhaps a description of how it feels to be tied up by your chefs & cannibals as they prepare you to be cooked? Perhaps a description of that special in-the-kitchen, in-the-oven, in-the-roasting pan, in-the-stewpot, on-the-spit-over-the-flames experience?

More discussion would be most welcome! Thanks!  :)

General Discussion / Devoured Stories
« on: July 05, 2022, 04:10:03 AM »
Ever adventurous; ever searching for more; ever wanting to pursue our shared interest in providing, being, cooking, and eating exotic and unusual meats; ever wanting to find and to provide satisfaction; I happened on this website.


Perhaps you are already familiar with it. If not, it's there for your pleasure.

Chuck Roast panicked! He tried to struggle again, he tried vainly to escape his impending fate of being cooked and eaten! He tried to scream again. “Shhh!” she said trying to sooth him. “Does that not that fit in with your dinner plans?” She laughed. “Well, it fits in perfectly with my dinner plans for you!”

He panicked even more. Above his head, several more faces popped into view, women’s faces. They were all smiling, and they were staring at him hungrily and drooling a little bit, too. They all licked their lips and swallowed hard.

Bonnie Cook said, “These are my friends, Chuck Roast! We all belong to the same coven! We are all gourmet cooks and cannibals! And you are perfectly dressed to be our dinner! Your white, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth shirt is more than just tasteful! It’s tasty, too! I choose it specially just for that reason! The same with your necktie and your slacks, tasteful and tasty both! We removed your belt and your shoes because they would spoil the taste! And now it is time for us to cook you so that in a few hours when you are done, after you are cooked through to a special, hot, juicy, delicious doneness, we can eat you! Your tasteful and tasty, white, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth shirt, and your tasteful and tasty charcoal gray slacks will hold your delicious meat juices close to you so that you will cook up better and taste better when we eat you! And your clothes will themselves absorb some of your delicious meat juices, too! They will help you cook up better and taste better, too! And your special necktie not only makes you look handsome, makes you look cute, makes you look good enough to eat, but it has made it easier for me to lead you to your inescapable fate, to lead you into my kitchen, to lead you like the meat animal that you are!” All the women nodded, giggled, and made yummy sounds. “And you were so willing, so eager to be our meat!” The cooks and cannibals nodded, giggled, and made yummy sounds again!

Chuck Roast tried to struggle, tried to escape, but his efforts were of no use! His fate was sealed, and he knew it! He knew that he was going to be cooked and eaten no matter what he did! And he was terrified!

“We’re going to cook you now so we can eat you later! Goodbye ‘til then, Chuck Roast! Now you know what I meant by you being my dinner … companion!” The cooks and cannibals all laughed and smiled again!

Together the cooks and cannibals slid the heavy roasting pan into the oven with him in it and shut the oven door designed to hold the heat in. Then they turned the oven on. The gas flames made everything visible to them as they watched him through the window in the oven door. The oven heated up slowly at first, and inside it, he liked the warm glow because he could see everything around him, everything that was happening to him. He liked the warmth of the heat, too. It felt good! And he liked the way that the cooks and cannibals were treating him as something so special, so rare, so treasured! He moaned with pleasure from realizing that! And he moaned with pleasure from the heat that felt so good! The oven heated up more and more, and he liked the feeling even more and more! And then he remembered to be terrified! He was being cooked, and he was going to be eaten!

The cooks and cannibals watched the oven glow hotter! It heated up the air around it! They felt that heat, felt it increase from safely from outside it! They were pleased, quite pleased! He moaned louder with increased pleasure. The cooks and cannibals heard him, and they called out loud enough for him to hear from inside the oven, “We can hear you moaning, Chuck Roast, and we are so very glad that you are enjoying the heat just as we will soon be enjoying your meat!” The cooks and cannibals laughed!

The cooks and cannibals were also enjoying his moans because his moaning meant that he was finally cooking for real! Yum! Although Chuck Roast was cooking slowly at first, the cooks and cannibals knew that the oven would heat up more and more, more and more, more and more until it reached optimal man cooking temperature, which was exactly what they wanted, exactly what they meant by making him dinner! Yum!

As he cooked, the cooks and cannibals anticipated finishing cooking Chuck Roast and eating him! Yum! They smiled, too, for they were enjoying his increasing moans, too, because his moans meant that he was cooking more and more, more and more, more and more, meant that he was getting closer and closer, closer and closer, closer and closer to being done! Yum! And that the cooks and cannibals were getting closer and closer, closer and closer, closer and closer to eating him! Yum! The cooks and cannibals quivered with insatiable joyous anticipation at the thought of eating Chuck Roast! And the cooks and cannibals could smell Chuck Roast as he cooked! They loved that smell! They loved the smell of man-meat cooking!

The oven got hotter and hotter, hotter and hotter, hotter and hotter, and Chuck Roast cooked more and more, more and more, more and more. And somewhere along the way, at some time in this temporary stop on his way to the table pf the cooks and cannibals, sometime during his time when was cooking in their oven, he stopped moaning because he was dead. He was cooking, and being cooked had killed him, killed him in a good way, though, because he was becoming dinner for the cooks and cannibals, and they liked that! They liked that very much! The cooks and cannibals liked anticipating having Chuck Roast for dinner!

A few hours later, he was still silent because, of course, he was long dead! He was cooked, he was done, he was ready to eat! Yum! The cooks and cannibals slid the roasting pan out of the oven and looked inside it. And there he was looking so tempting not only because he was cooked but because he had been cooked alive in his white cooking shirt, his cooking necktie, and his cooking slacks! Yum!

The cooks and cannibals savored the glorious, tempting, smell of his just cooked delicious meat! Then the cooks and cannibals sliced the meat off Chuck Roast and ate him, piece by delicious piece! And he was so tasty, just the way the cooks and cannibals wanted the men they cooked men to be! The cooks and cannibals made very satisfied yummy sounds as they ate Chuck Roast! Yum!

And as they ate Chuck Roast, the cooks and cannibals made plans for their next meat, their next meal, their next victim, their next man for cooking! They wondered if he would be as gullible, as willing, as eager for the job of their “dinner ... companion” as Chuck Roast had been! They wondered if their next “dinner … companion” would be as easy to hire, as easy to flatter, as easy to seduce, as easy to capture, as easy to prepare, as easy to cook, and as yummy to eat as Chuck Roast had been! The cooks and cannibals certainly hoped so because he would taste better that way! They were sure of that! He would taste just like Chuck Roast had tasted! Maybe better! And Chuck Roast had tasted so memorably delicious! In the future, the cooks and cannibals often remembered how much they had enjoyed cooking him and eating Chuck Roast, how he had made such a wonderful meal! Yes, the cooks and cannibals remembered Chuck Roast for a very long time! Yum!

Bonnie Cook smiled and said, “I’m glad you said that! I shall take you up on that offer! I have special plans for you for dinner tonight, and I’m going to put them in motion now! I’m going to make you dinner tonight!” She moved her hands up his neck and massaged it harder and deeper, harder and deeper, harder and deeper. He moaned harder and deeper, harder and deeper, harder and deeper. “Please don’t stop!” he cried out. “I won’t!” Bonnie Cook replied. “I know it feels good, very good, and I’m getting you ready for something even better! I’m getting you ready for dinner!”

Then Bonnie Cook tightened her grip around Chuck Roast’s neck just at his Adam’s apple and squeezed. The knot of his special necktie pressed against his neck as she did. He was loving every second of it, every minute of it! He wished she would never stop! Of course, he knew that she would because she would have to. She was just getting him ready for dinner and that she would stop soon.

After a few minutes, Bonnie Cook squeezed Chuck Roast’s neck so tightly that he began to choke. He couldn’t speak. He could only cough. He was afraid! Bonnie Cook choked him, and choked him, and choked him, and he coughed, and coughed, and coughed. As Bonnie Cook choked him, Chuck Roast wheezed and shook as he tried to resist her grasp, as he tried simply to breathe. She choked him tighter, so tight that his air was finally and completely cut off! Just before he passed out, he smelled something familiar but odd, a medicinal smell. He felt Bonnie Cook putting a cloth over his nose and mouth! And then it instantly came to him! Bonnie Cook had used ether on him! He was even more afraid! No, he was terrified! What is she going to do to him? Was this how Bonnie Cook was getting him ready for dinner? But he could not answer himself because there was nothing but darkness for Chuck Roast.

He did not know how long he had been out before he suddenly woke up. He was coughing again, but in a different way. Bonnie Cook had snapped a capsule of smelling salts beneath his nose, and he snapped to attention as he regained consciousness. And the smelling salts were causing him to cough.

Chuck Roast felt awkward. He was lying on his back. He was still wearing his white shirt, his necktie, and his slacks, but something was different. Suddenly, Chuck Roast realized that he was in metal container of some kind! There was no lid on it! And then Chuck Roast realized that he couldn’t move! His arms were secured at his side! A rope tied around his chest and another rope tied around his waist held them firmly in place! Though he could not see them, he could tell that his ankles and his hips were tied together, too! He struggled as best he could, but he could not move! No, he could not move at all no matter how hard he tried! Bonnie Cook had something special, something dangerous, something evil in mind for him!

Chuck Roast was afraid, very afraid! There was an apple in his mouth! He suddenly felt like he was a pig tied up and ready to be roasted! He struggled again, and he began to shout as best he could, but the apple in his mouth was quite an effective gag! It prevented him from barely voicing anything other than weak, pitiful sounds! And then above his head, he saw Bonnie Cook’s face! She smiled at him.

“Hello, Chuck Roast!” she said as she looked hungrily at him. “It’s me, Bonnie Cook! It’s time for dinner! And you’re going to help! I’m going to make you dinner!” She smiled again.

Chuck Roast tried to shout again. She smiled again and advised, “Don’t even try! You’ll only hurt yourself! You’ll run out of oxygen and die before you have to! You see, I didn’t invite you to be a guest _at_ dinner! I invited you to _be_ dinner! I never intended to make dinner _for_ you! I always intended to make _you_ for dinner! I hope that you don’t mind!” She smiled again as she drooled on him a little. Bonnie Cook said happily, “It’s your fault that I drool, of course! I’m simply anticipating a tasty, delicious, special meal as I get closer to cooking you and eating you! Yum!

After arriving at her house, he rang the doorbell, and again he heard stirring inside and the locks snapping into place just before Bonnie Cook, his hostess, the beautiful woman who had invited him to be her dinner … companion, opened the very heavy wooden door to admit him. He was surprised to see that Bonnie Cook was dressed much as he was. She wore a tasteful, white, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt that was freshly starched and ironed. A tasteful, silk, striped navy necktie. And she wore a long red skirt, which perfectly complemented his charcoal gray slacks. Flirting, seductive, dominant, hungry, and female for her. Wanting, willing, obedient, delicious, and male for him.

Bonnie Cook smiled even brighter than she had before. “You followed my instructions precisely! And now you are perfectly dressed for dinner! But I have changed my mind. I have decided that we won’t go out for dinner. No, I’d rather stay here. I’ll make you dinner tonight right here!” She continued smiling brightly at him.

He smiled back. “Sounds great! I’d love for you to make me dinner tonight, Bonnie Cook! Right here!”

“You’ll have to pass through my kitchen first before you can get to my dining room!”

“Whatever you want!” he responded politely. “It makes sense to me that I must pass through your kitchen first before I get to your dining room!”

Bonnie Cook smiled. “Oh, yes! It makes perfect sense! You’ll see soon how much sense it makes for you to go through my kitchen before you can get to my dining room!” She grabbed his necktie and led him through the kitchen. “I hope that you don’t mind my leading you by your necktie! To me, it just feels … right!” She proudly pointed out how well he kitchen was equipped to make him dinner. “See my pots and pans?” He nodded. “I have small, medium, large, and extra-large!” He admired her many pots and pans as Bonnie Cook continued proudly, “I even have double extra-large, triple extra-large, and quadruple extra-large! I can cook meat of any size!” She smiled and beamed.

“I can see that. What is largest piece of meat you have ever cooked?”

Bonnie Cook laughed and said, “Oh, you’ll find out!”

“I am intrigued! I can’t wait to learn how large a piece of meat you can cook!”

“You will! Soon!” She laughed.

“Great! I look forward to that!”

“Me, too! Oh, yes! Me, too! You see, I am especially proud of the meat that I cook! And I’m cooking meat tonight! A very special and tasty kind of meat! I hope that you enjoy it! And you can help me with that special and tasty meat! You are perfect and perfectly dressed for helping me with the meat! I hope that you are ready for that!” Bonnie Cook smiled again. She looked hungry. She had a special shiny look in her eyes. They smiled and looked hungry, too. She was clearly anticipating cooking and eating special and tasty meat tonight! Bonnie Cook said, “Special and tasty meat!” again. She sighed, smacked her lips, licked them, and swallowed hard savoring in her mind the meat that she was soon going to cook and eat for real.

As she led him by his necktie into the dining room, he could not help but notice some odd decorations on the walls. They looked like giant spider webs. He asked her, “Are those … spider webs?” Bonnie Cook replied, “Very perceptive! Yes, indeed, those are giant spider webs! They’re Halloween decorations. That’s coming up soon, you know. I always stand with the webs surrounding me, and I dress as a black widow spider, the kind that makes love first and then eats the male that has satisfied her. I find fascinating! Do you find that fascinating, too? Would you make love with a woman knowing that she was going eat you afterward?”

He replied jokingly, “I don’t know. What did you have in mind?” And they both laughed. He thought that he detected hints not just of desire and satisfaction in her laugh, but of cruelty, too. But he wasn’t sure. Then he mentally chastised himself for having such a silly thought and dismissed it. Bonnie Cook was just teasing him. Or was she?

He remained wary but intrigued. He could imagine himself willingly submitting to being killed, perhaps even being cooked and eaten by Bonnie Cook if she made fantastic love with him first! Many times, he hoped! Kind of like that erotic Japanese film “In The Realm Of The Senses.” The woman plays erotic asphyxiation games with her lover and then kills him. Oh, yes! He wouldn’t mind that! No, he wouldn’t mind that at all! That would make him ecstatic! He almost came in his pants in anticipation of Bonnie Cook playing erotic asphyxiation games with him, and then cooking him and eating him!

Bonnie Cook continued explaining. “At Halloween dressed as a Black Widow spider, I hand out candy to all the boys and the girls. Then I separate the boys from the girls, and I tell the girls privately that they should encourage the boys to eat all their own candy as well as the girls’ candy with the goal of fattening them up. They will cook up better, will to be tastier, juicier, and more delicious when they cook them and eat them. Much like the story of Hansel and Gretel!” Then Bonnie Cook laughed. “Just kidding! But it’s a good story! It’s something that I could see myself doing when I was a girl, cooking and eating boy! I would love that! Would you let me fatten you up just so I can cook you and eat you?” Then she laughed again. “Just kidding!”

But he began to feel that she wasn’t. He still had trepidations. But as Bonnie Cook continued to stare at him and to speak soothingly to him, he began to lose his inhibitions, he began to like the idea. If Bonnie Cook wanted to fatten him up, cook him, and eat him, he might not resist her, he might let her. Not that he would have much of a say in the matter because he would be her slave, her victim, her meat, and her meal. And he began to like the idea.

They reached her dining room. She pointed to a chair at the table and indicated that he should sit down. She sat opposite him. She smiled erotically and hungrily at him, and she said soothingly, “Dinner will be done soon. I was just waiting for you.” She smiled again. They conversed pleasantly for a while. He enjoyed that. He felt himself becoming less and less apprehensive. She was a very good hostess, and probably a very good cook, too, he thought. He hoped so. After all, Bonnie Cook was going to make him dinner, and he wanted to be good.

Then she said, “This room is rather warm. I’m sorry about that. I’ve been having trouble with my furnace, and now the heat is troubling you. You look uncomfortably hot. Please take your jacket off. I don’t mind. I don’t want you to be too hot … at least not yet.” Bonnie Cook smiled oddly and seductively at him, licked her lips, and swallowed hard. And he thought that she meant he could get hot when they made love, and that would get hot, too. At least he hoped that was what she meant.

Bonnie Cook remarked sharply, “Oh, my! You look so handsome in your special white shirt and your special necktie! Again, you look good enough to eat, Chuck Roast! And I think I will!” She laughed. Then Bonnie Cook smiled at him again and said, “But you still look uncomfortable! That won’t do!”

Bonnie Cook rose from her chair and moved behind him. She said, “Oh, you look so uncomfortable, so anxious, so worried, so ill at ease! I’m so sorry! That won’t do! That won’t do at all! Not here! Not now! Let me help you unwind! Let me help you get ready for dinner, Chuck Roast!”

Bonnie Cook began to massage his shoulders using her surprisingly expert fingers. She moved her hands back and forth, back and forth, back and forth on his back to release his tension. He moaned with great unexpected pleasure and sighed, “Oh, that feels wonderful! That feels absolutely wonderful!”

Bonnie Cook replied, “I’m glad you like it, Chuck Roast! Here, let me do more to you before dinner!” She massaged him harder and deeper, harder and deeper, harder and deeper. But she wasn’t just massaging him. Bonnie Cook was kneading his muscles to tenderize them before cooking them. But he didn’t know that yet.

Chuck Roast moaned harder and deeper, harder and deeper, harder and deeper. “I am putty in your hands! Do with me whatever you want to do! Please, Bonnie Cook, do to me anything to me that you want to do! You make me feel better than I have ever felt before! I am yours! Please, Bonnie Cook! I am your slave! I will be whatever you want me to be! Please, Bonnie Cook, make of me be anything that you want me to be before you make me dinner!”

“Great! I want to make sure that I satisfy you! I definitely want to satisfy you! Do you have any special requirements? How do you want me to dress to be your dinner … companion?”

“Business formal, please. You look great in your white shirt and tie, and I love the way you look, but it’s not quite right for being my dinner … companion. Here, I have prepared your dinner clothes for you. Please wear this tasteful, white, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt freshly starched and ironed; this tasteful, silk, striped, navy necktie; this navy coat and these charcoal gray dress slacks. You must dress as I want you to dress to be my perfect dinner … companion! I’ve put them in this garment bag to protect them! They mustn’t get dirty! They must be perfect if you are going to be my perfect dinner … companion!” She smiled again. “I’ll see you at 1700! For dinner!”

He smiled and took the clothes from her. “I’ll be here right on time, and I’ll be dressed just as you want me to be dressed to be your dinner … companion!” She smiled and replied, “Good! I want you to be perfectly dressed to be my dinner … companion!” She continued, “Don’t you want to know your wages before you accept the job of being my dinner … companion?”

“Oh, yeah. That would be good to know before I become your dinner … companion. How much will you pay me to be your dinner … companion?”

She smiled. “$1000 per dinner! And a very special meal, of course!”

“Wow! That’ll be great! Are you sure that I’m worth $1000 to be your dinner … companion?”

“Oh, yes! You are definitely worth at least that much! At least! Of course, if it doesn’t work out this evening, then I’ll … fire you. I’ll pay you the $1000, of course, but that will be the only time that I have you for my dinner.”

“I’m confused. You said ‘dinner.’ Did you mean ‘dinner … companion?’”

“That, too! All will become clear to you soon!” She smiled. “Sorry for the confusion. Yes, you will be my dinner … companion!” Then she laughed.

She grabbed his necktie and led him to the door. “I like leading you this way!” He was surprised, but he neither objected nor resisted. As they reached the door, she pulled his necktie to bring him close to her. Then Bonnie Cook said in a low, sexy, seductive voice, “And if everything goes well tonight, perhaps we can have an intimate encounter, too! I like being intimate with my dinner … companion!” Bonnie Cook tugged harder on his necktie and pulled him right up to her face. She French kissed him. Passionately. He liked that. He French kissed her back. Passionately. He liked that a lot, too, so much that he became semi-erect. He liked that even more. He thought it odd, but again he neither objected nor resisted. After she had kissed him, she licked her lips and swallowed hard. Then Bonnie Cook said with great satisfaction, “You taste good! Very good! I cannot wait to have you for dinner tonight!”

“You said ‘dinner’ again. Did you mean … ‘dinner companion?’’”

“Yes, yes! That, too! Be patient! All will become clear to you soon, as clear as the hot summer sun! Yes, you will be my hot dinner … companion! Perhaps more!”

“I would dearly love being more than just your hot dinner … companion!”

Bonnie Cook said in an even lower, sexier, more seductive voice, “Let’s count on that intimate encounter!” He became rock hard. A little sweet, thick, white honey came out of him. He hoped that she noticed and became aroused. He was in such a euphoric state anticipating being her dinner ... companion that he was putty in her hands. And she knew it! Bonnie Cook could make him do anything! She could make him into anything! And she was going to make him dinner!

He was surprised and delighted by her candor and by her kiss. He had thought that Bonnie Cook wanted him only for dinner, but apparently, she wanted him for something else, too, something much, much more. They exchanged pleasant parting words and smiled at each other. And he left wondering about what had just happened and what would happen later that evening when he came for dinner.

At home, he began at 1500 to prepare himself for dinner with Bonnie Cook at 1700. He shined his black dress shoes. He took a deep, thorough, cleansing shower so he was extra clean in case, he hoped, that Bonnie Cook wanted to taste him again. He also wanted to be sure that there was no shoe polish under his fingernails. That would not only be unsightly and unattractive, but it would taste bad if she happened to taste him there. And he wanted Bonnie Cook to taste him anywhere and everywhere. He became erect again.

He shaved, being very careful not to cut himself. She might not like it if he sliced himself. Perhaps she was saving that job for herself, he joked. He put a tiny dab of his manliest musk cologne behind each ear so that she would love how he smelled and so that, he hoped, she would nuzzle him. Perhaps she would be driven to ecstasy and would bite him, would taste his neck and his ears. He hoped that she would. He dearly wanted Bonnie Cook to taste him, and he wanted to taste good for Bonnie Cook at dinner that evening.

He put on white cotton boxers and a white cotton t-shirt. Then he sprayed a little of his musk cologne in his crotch so she would be attracted to it, too. And then he put a little dot of meat sauce on it, too, so she would like the taste, that is, so she would like tasting him during their intimate encounter at dinner that evening. He didn’t mind the slightly greasy stain because she might, he hoped, think that he had come while thinking of her, and that that would make her want to taste him more. And he desperately yearned for her to taste him at dinner.

Then he dressed himself for dinner just as she had requested, in the tasteful, white, long-sleeved, button-down, oxford cloth dress shirt that she had given him. It was freshly starched and ironed. In fact, it was still warm. He took it off and ironed it again himself to make sure that he was properly and neatly dressed for dinner. Thinking ahead, he also ironed his charcoal gray slacks. When he put his shirt back on, it was still hot. “Maybe I should get used to them being hot,” he thought. “Maybe Bonnie Cook would like me to be hot in this beautiful shirt!” He put the tasteful, silk, striped, navy necktie around his neck under the collar of his shirt and tightened it around his waiting neck. Then he donned the navy coat and the still hot charcoal gray dress slacks. He added his black leather dress belt and finally his freshly shined, black, leather dress shoes.

He looked at himself in the full-length triple mirror in his bedroom to see if he looked good enough to be her dinner … companion. He was satisfied that he did. He stood a minute or two longer to admire himself. To admire his beautiful and tight white shirt, which was tight enough that his beautiful, enviable, and tempting muscles were clearly visible under it. To admire his tasteful navy necktie. To admire his charcoal gray slacks. He smiled and thought to himself, “Wow! I look sharp! I hope that she likes me dressed like this! I followed her directions precisely! I hope that they have made me dinner-perfect for her because I dearly want to be a well-dressed dinner … companion! After all, gentlemen always dress for dinner!

Chuck Roast walked up to the door and rang the bell. He heard stirring inside, and few seconds later, he heard two or three locks, perhaps even four, snapping into place just before a beautiful woman opened the very heavy wooden door.

He said, “I’ve come to answer your personal ad for a dinner companion. Have I come to the right place?”

She smiled. She said politely, firmly, and enthusiastically, “Oh, yes! My name is Bonnie Cook! I definitely want to have a man for my dinner … companion! Indeed, I need to have a man for my dinner … companion! Let’s see if you will be the right man to be my dinner … companion!”

“I hope so. I would like to be your dinner … companion.” He paused as she had, but he didn’t know why. Not yet. More of that later. Just following her lead, he thought. “I didn’t know how to dress for this interview to be your dinner … companion, so I wore a white shirt and a tie to look as good as I could to be your dinner … companion.”

“You look fine! Just fine! You look very … tempting! Indeed, you look very, very tempting and … yummy! You look like you’ll make an excellent dinner … companion! Please follow me!”

He stepped in as she beckoned him forward. Her home was exquisitely furnished, but it had no windows. He found that odd. All the light was from artificial light tastefully designed to highlight the furnishings and the people in the room but little else.

And it was silent as a tomb. Behind its thick walls and heavy door, anything could happen there, and no one beyond them would hear what was going on. Not a thing. Laughter, shrieks of delight, moans of pleasure, screams of terror, sounds of satisfaction, no sound whatever could ever escape from that house. Not a chance. He wondered if that was intentional. He began to wonder if he would escape. It was so somber, quiet, foreboding, and … final. But more of that later.

Still smiling, she sat and said, “Please have a seat!” indicating a chair directly in front of hers. He sat down. She stared at him intently, inspecting him hungrily and eagerly, inspecting him up and down, inspecting him left and right, inspecting him all over as if she wanted him for something special, something very special. He hoped that she approved of him. He hoped that she wanted him. He hoped that he could be something special for her. Whatever she wanted him to be, he would be. He instinctively knew that. Either he would do it on his own, or she would do it for him. Yes, she would do it for him, perhaps to him. He was very sure of that.

“I am looking for a man to be my dinner … companion. I don’t like to eat alone. If you are right for the job and if you follow my orders, being my dinner … companion could become a long-term position. With practice and experience, you could become an excellent dinner … companion for me, much like William Holden was a great dinner … companion for Gloria Swanson in ‘Sunset Boulevard.’ You could live in the spare room above my garage, just like Holden did!”

“I’d like that! If I’m right for the job, I’d like to be your dinner … companion for as long as you want me to be your dinner … companion! And it would help me a lot if I could live here!”

“Good! I like your ambition! Of course, Swanson used Holden to satisfy her sexual desires, too, and not just to be her dinner … companion. And she ultimately killed him. She no longer needed him to be her dinner … companion. He ceased being her dinner … companion. Perhaps he had satisfied her as her dinner … companion.”

“I wouldn’t want that to happen,” said Chuck Roast nervously.

“Oh, it won’t happen … probably!” She laughed heartily. He laughed nervously. “My, but you’re very handsome!”

He blushed. “Thank you.” 

“And you have such very large muscles! I can see your pecs bulging out from your chest beneath your white shirt and necktie.”

He blushed deeper. “I try to stay fit.”

She stared at him intently, inspecting him hungrily and eagerly, inspecting him up and down, left and right, all over as if she wanted him for something special, something very special maybe more than just her dinner … companion.

“Oh, you’re much more than fit! Much, much, much more!” she said enthusiastically. She let out a little sigh. She looked at him while clicking her tongue, sucking on her teeth, licking her lips, swallowing hard, and smiling with approval. He was accustomed to women staring at him intently, inspecting him hungrily and eagerly, inspecting him up and down, left and right, all over as if they wanted him for something special, something very special. But she was looking at him with something more than approval, with much, much, much, much more approval than even the most enthusiastic women had ever looked at him before.

He could feel her hot, flashing eyes staring at him intently and inspecting him all over. He felt that she was not just looking at him, but that she was looking into him, looking through his clothes, looking through his skin, looking at the muscles beneath. Her stare made him feel a little uneasy. Indeed, her unusual and intense attention made him feel very uncomfortable, but he also felt very flattered. He _was_ fit and muscular, and he liked beautiful women reminding him of that, especially when they spoke to him with such a sensuous voice. The feeling of flattery won. He decided that he liked her and trusted her. He decided that he wanted the job. He did not yet know what his duties would be, but he knew that he wanted to be her dinner … companion. That would be special, being at dinner with her every evening. He hoped that she approved of him, that she found him good enough to be her dinner … companion. He felt his skin grow hotter as he imagined being her dinner … companion.

“Your muscles look strong and powerful, too! Good! That will come in handy! I can make use of that! Look at your broad, thick shoulders! Your thick pecs on your deep chest! Your large biceps and triceps! And your thighs! And your rump, too! Such great musculature! And you are so well-dressed in your white shirt and tie! Indeed, you’re not only handsome and muscular, but you’re very cute, too! As the saying goes, you look good enough to eat! Would you like that?” And then she laughed oddly.

He blushed even deeper, and he felt his skin grow even hotter under her infrared stare, so hot that he felt as if he _was_ cooking, as if, to continue her metaphor, that she was cooking him as a necessary prelude to her eating him. He liked that feeling.

She smiled and said, “Oh, you’ll do just fine! You have the job! And I’m glad you do! I want you to be my dinner … companion! I can’t wait for you to be my dinner … companion!”

He smiled proudly. “Great! When?”

“This evening! Please arrive promptly at 1700! And then dinner! I’ll be the cook and hostess, and you’ll be my dinner … companion! Here! I have put the clothes that I want you to wear in this garment bag!” She smiled again.

He nodded politely and smiled. He was happy that he had the job, and he wanted to do everything he could to satisfy her, to be her perfect dinner … companion.

Hello, chefs and cannibals! Hello, fellow willing meat! Please enjoy my fantasy! I have rewritten to make it more interesting, to make it more satisfying, to make me more satisfying, to flesh it out for me, to flesh me out for you, to make it tastier for me and you, and to make me tastier for you! Enjoy! :)

I want to be your meat. Please. However, before you cook me and eat me, something that I look forward to, I must ask: How would you like me to prepare myself to become your ideal main ingredient, your ideal meat, your ideal meal? Do you have any requirements for me? Any specifications as to diet and exercise? As to muscle size and composition? How much fat do you want me to have? How lean do you want me to be? Do you want my muscles to be solid, something that you can sink your teeth into, which is what I desperately want you to do? Or do you want my muscles to be flabby and easier to chew after you have cooked me, which I would accept if that is what you want? I eagerly await your pre-cooking instructions for me. I want to be just as you want me to be. After all, you are the chef and the cannibal, you are my hero for helping me with my fantasy. I am only the meat for you to cook and eat, only the humble, willing, and waiting main course for your special meat meal. You are in command and control of me, and I will obey your orders.

You are also in command and control of the process that you require me to follow before I am worthy of becoming your meat. You get to dictate how I must prepare myself for you, for your kitchen, for your oven, for your plate, for your table, for your knife and fork, and for your eagerly waiting mouth, teeth, and stomach aching for their special meal of my meat, for your special meat meal. :) 

After I have prepared myself according to your strict, demanding instructions to become what you want me to be before you cook me and eat me, I must ask: what recipe you will use when you cook me? You can cook me any way you want, of course, but I'd like to know in advance. Will you cook me whole? Will you butcher me and cook me in pieces? If you butcher me, will you save some of my meat to cook and eat later, or will you cook me all at one time? Will you execute me before you cook me or butcher me?  Will you add vegetables, potatoes, rice, other grains, salt, spices, herbs to the pot or the pan that you cook me in? Will I smell good while you are cooking me? Will I smell good when you have finished cooking me? Will your mouth water in anticipation of eating me? Please describe the sights, the sounds, the smells, the feelings that you have when you cook me and eat me? Please describe what you want me to see, hear, smell, and feel when you cook me and eat me.



Or will you cook me first and then add such things to the plate when you serve me after you have cooked me?


Or do you have other plans for me? ;D

After you have cooked me, you can eat me however you want, of course, but I'd like to know in advance. Is there a special manner in which you want to eat me, to eat my meat? I have no say in the matter. I am your humble servant willing and aching to be your meat before you cook me, and I am your willing and aching to be your honorable serving of meat after you have cooked me, and you eat me. I am your obedient servant, slave and victim. I am your willing meat and meal.

I am not fearful even though I know that you are going to cook me and eat me. I belong to you, not to me. I am yours, not mine. I want only to serve you, just as I want only for you to serve me for dinner. I want only to be as tempting, tasty, delicious, and satisfying for you as possible when you eat me, when you eat my meat. ;D

Once you have me under your command and control, and once you have me in your kitchen, I must ask: How would you like to prepare me to be your meat, to be your meal? How would you work your culinary magic on me to transform me from a living, breathing, happy, healthy, fit, muscular, sexy, young man into a piece of meat for you to cook and eat at your special meal? How would you transform me into your perfect meat dinner? Would you cook me whole? If so, would you stick an apple in my mouth? I would enjoy that. Or would you butcher me first and then cook me in pieces?  :-\


I am your meat, and I am your meal. I have no say in the matter. I want only for you to cook me and eat me as you desire. I am your meat, and I am your meal. I want only to satisfy you. And in satisfying you, you will also satisfy me, you will fulfill my desire, for I want only to be your meat, your meal. As you insatiably yearn to cook and eat me, I insatiably yearn to be cooked and eaten by you. ;D


Please tell me how you will cook me and eat me. I need to know. I am unafraid, neither a coward nor a weakling. I can take anything you dish out even if you ultimately intend to dish me out. Do you want to cook me alive? Or do you want to execute me before you cook me? If you want to execute me before you cook me, how do you want to execute me? Please tell me how. I must know. I am not afraid of being executed. Indeed, I would enjoy it, but I would like to prepare myself physically, emotionally, and mentally before you execute me. Please tell me! ;)

When you have decided that my time has come and that you are ready to eat me, you can pinion my arms behind my back and tie my wrists together.


I shall offer no resistance. I shall bravely and willingly mount the stairs.


To the platform of your gallows.


I shall not shrink, hesitate, resist, complain, break down, beg, cry, scream, and shout when I see the noose before me.



I shall approach the rough rope noose that waits impatiently for me, waits to bite into my neck, to break it, and to snap my spinal cord.



I shall stand calmly beneath the noose, stand calmly on the trap doors beside the lever that you will very soon pull to release the trapdoors and hang me.




I shall allow you to secure me with rope so that you can be sure that I do not resist you as you prepare to hang me and to noose me without fear, without struggle, without complaint. 


As I stand there waiting for you to hang me, I shall hope that you hang me well. :)




When you ultimately and inevitably hang me.



It will take about 0.7 seconds for me to drop 6” and for the noose to bite into my delicious neck, break it, and snap my spinal cord. You will have fulfilled your goal of hanging me by the neck until I am dead, thus making me ready for you to cook me and eat me.





I shall hope that I die honorably and well. :)







I shall hope that I cook well for you after you have hanged me. And I shall hope that you find me tempting, tasty, delicious, and satisfying when you ultimately and inevitably eat me. I am your meat. I am your meal. ;D


Oh, how I would love that! Oh, how I yearn for that! I can feel it now! I cum with sweet, eager, quivering, anticipatory delight as I imagine you hanging me, cooking me, and eating me! ;D

Or when my time comes and you are ready to eat me, you can pinion my arms behind my back and tie my wrists together. I shall offer no resistance. I shall bravely and willingly mount the stairs to the scaffold of your guillotine. I shall approach it and the singing blade that waits impatiently for me. :)


I shall allow you to strap me to the bascule of the guillotine and to put my neck in the lunette without fear, without struggle, without complaint. In the few seconds between the time that you strap me in, tilt me forward, and lunette me, and the time that you release the sharp blade that will ultimately and inevitably slice through my waiting, willing, and delicious neck, and chop my head off, I shall hope that you behead me well, and that I die honorably and well when you behead me. ;D



I shall hope that you find me tempting, tasty, delicious, and satisfying when you ultimately and inevitably eat me. I am your meat. I am your meal. ;D



Oh, how I would love that! Oh, how I yearn for that! I can feel it now! I cum with sweet, eager, quivering, anticipatory delight as I imagine you beheading me, cooking me, and eating me! And I shall hope that I am tempting, tasty, delicious, and satisfying when you ultimately and inevitably eat me. ;D

Or I shall willingly kneel before your chopping block, lay my head and neck on it, and wait silently, honorably, and patiently so you can behead me with a proper executioner's axe. :)


Beheading me with a proper executioner's axe will have much the same effect as beheading me by means of a guillotine. The blade will chop my head off leaving my delicious neck and the rest of my body for you to cook and eat. ;D


Or when my time comes, I shall bravely and willingly sit in your fatal electric chair that waits impatiently to sizzle and heat up just for me. :)


I shall allow you to strap me securely into it and attach the electrodes to me without fear, without struggle, without complaint. I shall hope that I die honorably and well as I await my execution in the few seconds that I have to live between the time you strap me into the chair and the time you throw the switch when you ultimately and inevitably electrocute me.

I shall hope that you electrocute me well and that I leave a handsome, muscular body for you to cook. I shall hope that I cook well for you after you have electrocuted me. And I shall hope that you find me tempting, tasty, delicious, and satisfying when you ultimately and inevitably eat me. Oh, how I would love that, too! Oh, how I yearn for that! Again, I can feel it now! Again, I cum with sweet, eager, quivering, anticipatory delight as I scream while the high voltage current courses swiftly and surely through my body as it executes me just for you! ;D



If you decide to electrocute me, you will have a unique alternative option for cooking me. You can, if you choose, lower the voltage so it will not be so great as to execute me quickly, which is usually the goal in electrocution, but rather to cook me slowly as you execute me. What a great idea! I would become the resistor in the circuit, the resistor that heats up as the current courses through me. I shall heat up and cook internally. I shall scream for as long as it takes until I am dead and cooked, until I am done and ready to eat. You can enjoy my screams as I die and cook! Once more, I cum with sweet, eager, quivering delight anticipating being executed and cooked that way! ;D

But the choice, of course, is yours. I am your victim, I am your meat, I am your meal. The decision is yours, not mine. Execute me or not as you choose, but whatever you do, please cook me and eat me. Please. Please, please, please. Just as you can do nothing other than cooking me and eating me to satisfy yourself, I can do nothing other than being cooked and eaten by you.

And as always, please make me as tasty, tempting, delicious, and satisfying as possible! I do not want to disappoint you! I would be deeply saddened if I were to disappoint you as victim, as meat, or as meal. Indeed, I want to fill you and fulfill you as best I can! I am the meat that seeks to please! ;D

And once you have cooked me, what would be your special plans for eating me? I hunger to hear your hungry plans for eating me! ;)

You can, if you wish and I hope you do, invite fellow cannibals and other friends--women, men, or both--to assist you in executing me and cooking me. I would especially like that! Maybe 10 women, 10 ravenous, elite, gourmet killer cannibal executioners & cooks. And maybe 10 cute, handsome, young, muscular male assistant executioners & cooks, who, being slaves to the women executioners & cooks, follow orders precisely because they know that the women might choose to execute them, cook them, and eat them, too. Wanting very much to avoid the noose, the guillotine, the axe, the electric chair, and any other form of execution, and also wanting very much to avoid the oven that would be perfectly willing, wanting, and waiting to cook them just as it is perfectly willing, wanting, and waiting to cook me, they will enthusiastically assist the executioners & cooks in executing me and cooking me

And then after you have cooked me, you can share my hot, tasty, delicious meat with the assistant executioners & cooks at your special dinner, for I know that you have not intended to make dinner for me as your guest but rather to make me for dinner for you and your guests! And I look forward to it! Truly! ;D

Please execute me or not as you wish before you cook me, but please cook me. Please, please, please, please cook me! And after you have cooked me, please eat me. Please, please, please, please eat me! ;D

I eagerly await your instructions, your gallows, your kitchen, your roasting pan, your oven, your plate, your knife and fork, and your ravenous, waiting, wanting, hungry lips, mouth, and stomach. Eagerly. I am your meal ticket. Redeem your ticket and make me your meal. Redeem your ticket and cook me! Please, please, please, please cook me! And after you have cooked me, please eat me. Please, please, please, please eat me! ;D

I hope that you enjoy my fantasy. As always, your comments and questions are welcome! I look forward to meeting you, just as I hope that you look forward to meating me! Please meat me! Here! Today! Now! ;D

Fiction / Chuck Roast at The Cook School -- Chapter 1
« on: January 02, 2022, 08:44:50 PM »
Please note that this is only a stub for the first chapter of what will be an adventure fantasy of several chapters. If you enjoy it, you might want to check back from time, for I will revise and expand it and all other chapters as I continue writing to keep details consistent as the story leads to its eventual, inevitable, satisfying, hot, yummy conclusion.

Chuck Roast was a lucky boy. Yes, he was a very lucky boy indeed. When he was 11, he had received a scholarship to attend a prestigious prep school, The Cook School, one of the best in the nation. Now, at age 14, he was entering 9th grade, and having the time of his life. He was doing well as a student. His favorite subject was English, and he planned to become a writer. He wrote for the school newspaper, and his articles were well-received. He was very cute and very popular. All the girls wanted him. Some of the boys, too. They really wanted him.

Even better, Chuck Roast’s best friend from childhood, Kara Cook, was at the school, too. That was expected, of course, because Kara was the great-grand-daughter of the founder, Theodore Cook, who stylized his name as The Cook, hence the name of the school. And The Cook, as one might conjecture on the basis of his name, had been an excellent cook. He was famed for the dinners he cooked, especially for the delicious meat dishes that he prepared, and cooked, and served to his guests. Though he was headmaster at The Cook School, he sometimes cooked for the students, cooked them special meals with special ingredients. Though he kept his recipes secret from outsiders, he passed them down through his children. Now Kara, his only surviving descendent, was the only Cook who knew his secret recipes and their special ingredients.

Chuck Roast had fallen in love with Kara Cook in first grade when they were seven, at least, he had fallen in love with her as much as a seven-year-old boy could fall in love with a seven-year-old girl. And Kara Cook had fallen in love with Chuck Roast, too, at least as much as a seven-year-old girl can fall in love with a seven-year-old boy. In fact, it had been Kara who had recommended that he be awarded a scholarship to The Cook School. Her future had never been in doubt. She knew that she would attend The Cook School, and she had always told him that, as her special boyfriend, she had always wanted him to be with her at The Cook School, that she would make sure that he was treated very well there and that he would have a very special future there, a very special future indeed.

General Discussion / Holiday Wishes, Celebrations, Meals, and Fulfillment
« on: December 26, 2021, 03:30:40 PM »
As usual, my most fervent and greatest fantasies were fulfilled. I found myself wearing a white, long-sleeved, button-down, tasteful and tasty, oxford cloth hanging shirt.


A dark, striped, tasteful and tasty, silk hanging necktie.


And a pair of tasteful and tasty dress hanging pants.


Being forcibly marched to the nearby awaiting gallows.



Being forced onward to the fatal noose, which eagerly seeks to cinch very quickly and very tightly around my wanting, waiting, vulnerable, and very breakable neck.


Being tied up and noosed.


Being hanged.




Being cooked to delicious perfection.


And being ultimately eaten at a lovely and extravagant Christmas dinner by some dominant, eager, waiting, lip-licking, cruel, impatient, yearning, ravenous Killer Cannibal Hangwomen & Cooks also dressed in white shirts and ties. Cute, compliant, fit, healthy, tempting, muscular, well-dressed and potentially tasty Assistant Hangmen Cooks also dressed in white shirts and ties will assist them. 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd! :)

Did you have a good holiday, too? Did you in fantasy get what you wanted? Cooking? Ovens? Tables? Meals? Satisfaction? :)

Did you in fantasy get to be what you wanted to be for the holidays? Meat? Cooks? Cannibals? Pray, tell! Please share your fantasies! I eagerly await to hear your fantasies of being cooked and eaten, of being a cook and a cannibal! :)

Registration / Avatar
« on: November 19, 2021, 11:20:51 PM »
Dear Lana,

Dominatrix, executioner, and chef of and cannibal of men, I am having difficulty with my avatar. I humbly and at your pleasure, beg for your help. I do not want to burden or inconvenience you. I realize that you can execute me, cook me, and eat me any time you like, so I do not want to incite your wrath. Rather, I merely seek your help in fulfilling my fantasies, perhaps the fantasies of other chefs and cannibals, perhaps your fantasies. I would love that.  :)

When I try to upload my avatar to my profile, I receive an error message that reads:

"An Error Has Occurred! The attachments upload directory is not writable. You attachment or avatar cannot be saved."

I see 3 possible reasons for this error message and 3 corresponding possible solutions.

1) I have done something wrong in trying to upload my avatar. If that is the case, then I humbly, and always in and at your service beg for your instructions for or your help in doing so successfully.

2) If that is not feasible, then I humbly, and always in and at your service beg you to let me send to you my avatar so that you can add it to my profile for me.

3) Something else that I do not understand or foresee that induces me to beg for your assistance.

As always, I am yours, and you may do anything with me and to me that you want.

Thank you!  :)


Meaty and delicious
chuckroastt761343 aka
Chuck Roast

Fiction / Chuck Roast 1.1 Part Three
« on: November 13, 2021, 05:10:16 AM »
A fantasy About How Chuck Roast Came To Be Hanged, Cooked, And Eaten
Part Three

The Chief Hangwoman & Cook continued, “Since you have nothing to say before you are hanged, we will proceed with your hanging! Goodbye, Chuck Roast! May you hang well, may you cook well, and may you be tasty and delicious! Following our laws and traditions, I shall ring the execution bell 13 times. At the 13th ring, I shall hang you!”

Just at that instant, Chuck Roast found a thin, pale slice of his voice, and whimpered once more. “Please don’t hang me! Please don’t hang me! Please don’t hang me! Please, please, please, please, please don’t hang me!”

But the Chief Hangwoman & Cook had warned him that she was fatally finished with him, that she would ignore his pleas, that she was going to hang him. She was very tired, very hungry, and she had enough of the delays that had kept her from her well-deserved, well-earned, and very tasty dinner. She rang the execution bell 13 times as she had said she would and as tradition required. At each loud ring, he feared more and more, he tensed more and more, and he trembled more and more because he knew that he was about to be hanged. On the 13th ring, The Chief Hangwoman & Cook pulled the lever that controlled the trapdoors just as she said she would and hanged Chuck Roast. The trapdoors fell open with a startlingly loud and horrifying crash.


Chuck Roast plummeted through the open trapdoors.

He reached the end of his rope, a final fatal event that abruptly halted his fatal haltered fall. The noose tightened very swiftly and even more snugly one final, fatal last time around his neck; jerked his neck instantly back and to the right; smashed his larynx; rendered him silent; broke his neck, snapped it like a dry twig; crushed his spinal cord; and executed him, silencing him forever except for the yummy sizzling sounds he would make when he was cooked to a perfect, delicious doneness.



For several seconds after he was hanged, Chuck Roast experienced a noose dancing orgy, something that often happens to a man when he is hanged. His nervous system fired randomly and powerfully because his neck had just been broken. The overload to his nervous system caused every muscle in his body to ripple, twitch, and jerk. Of course, he was unable to enjoy his noose dancing, but the Hangwomen & Cooks enjoyed it greatly, for it meant that he was one step closer to being executed, to being dead, and one step closer to being cooked, and thus one step closer to being eaten, to being their dinner. And they were hungry for dinner.


He lived just long enough to hear the trapdoors crash open, and to hear and feel his neck break. He came again as he hang-danced and dangled from the noose, and he felt pleasure one final, fatal time in the last few milliseconds of his life. He swung like a squeaking pendulum from the end of the rope.



His hanging necktie, being a shorter pendulum, swung faster than he did, calling more attention to it and to his beautiful, crisp, freshly ironed, white, long-sleeved, button-down, tasteful and tasty, oxford cloth, dress hanging shirt.

He worried no more, he said no more, he pleaded no more, he feared no more, he felt no more, he was no more. He was dead. He was meat, just dead meat, just freshly slaughtered man-meat, and he was ready to be slowly and carefully cooked by the ravenous Killer Hangwomen & Cooks as they eagerly licked their lips, anticipated cooking him in his hanging clothes, and then eating him.

After Chuck Roast had been successfully hanged, the Hangwomen & Cooks used a stethoscope to verify that his heart had stopped and that he was dead.


When they were sure that he was dead, the Hangwomen & Cooks tolled the execution bell on the gallows again the traditional 13 times to officially announce that his hanging had been successful. He was dead. He was meat, just dead meat, just freshly slaughtered man-meat ready to be cooked in his hanging clothes.

The Hangwomen & Cooks posted on the gallows the official notice of his hanging to make it public information as required by their laws and traditions.

The Hangwomen & Cooks then cut Chuck Roast down, placed him in a large roasting pan, and shoved an apple in his mouth. Then they cooked him for many, many hours at a steady low heat so he would cook slowly and completely, so every muscle of his man-meat cooked completely, cooked all the way through, cooked perfectly to make it as tender, tempting, tasty, and delicious as it could be. They took special care to make sure that they did not cook him at too high a temperature or cook too quickly because they did not want to over-cook him. They basted him several times each hour with melted butter and olive oil according to their special recipe for man-meat to make sure that each muscle, each piece of his man-meat was cooked all the way through, cooked to perfection, cooked to an especially juicy and tasty doneness.

When the Hangwomen & Cooks thought that Chuck Roast was done cooking, they slid the roasting pan out of the oven and checked whether he was done. If he was not done, they basted him again to make sure that he stayed juicy and then slid the roasting pan back into the oven. If he was done, they took the roasting pan out of the oven. Then they used their very special, sharpened, shiny, stainless steel carving knives and forks to slice his tempting man-meat off him, and placed it on the beautiful special plates that they always used for displaying, serving, and eating man-meat as tradition required. They savored aroma of his man-meat. They were overcome with ecstatic joy at finally being able to eat him after all their work, all their troubles, and all their waiting. And they honored all his sacrifices, too, for they had surely sacrificed him when they hanged him and cooked him. It was for them a religious experience, part of their sisterhood, part of a sacred ritual that bound them together. They regarded eating him as the final act of that ritual, as their sacred obligation.

The Hangwomen & Cooks took their time as they ate him so they could savor and enjoy his especially tasty and delicious man-meat, the aroma, the texture, the flavor. Yum!

And he was delightfully delicious, memorably delicious, spectacularly delicious. He would be the topic of fond conversation for a long time as their memories allowed them to hang him, cook him, and eat him over, and over, and over, and over again, and so on forever.

After the Hangwomen & Cooks stripped off him as much of the remaining man-meat as they could, they refrigerated and froze it so that they could continue to enjoy eating him for a long time.

Then the Hangwomen & Cooks cut off his head, stuffed and preserved it, and mounted it on the wall of their dining room as a trophy.

Then the Hangwomen & Cooks boiled his skeleton with the man-meat that still clung it to make soup that they could enjoy eating for a long, long time. too.

The Hangwomen & Cooks also digitally recorded from several angles every instant from the moment when they entered his cell and found him sitting at attention on his cot contemplating his fate wearing his white, long-sleeved, button-down, tasteful and tasty, dress oxford cloth hanging shirt and his dark, striped, tasteful and tasty, silk hanging necktie; through their pinioning his arms behind his back and tying his wrists together behind his back as they prepared him to be hanged; through his march to the gallows; through his climbing the steps to the gallows platform on his way to be hanged; through his being positioned by the Hangwomen & Cooks on the trapdoors beneath the noose; through the Hangwomen & Cooks binding him securely so he could not fight or resist being hanged; through the Chief Hangwoman & Cook noosing him; through the Chief Hangman & Cook reading him the order of execution; through his being hanged by the Chief Hangwoman & Cook; through the Hangwomen & Cooks cooking him; and through the Hangwomen & Cooks eating him.
The Hangwomen & Cooks edited the digital video recording to make a comprehensive, real-time movie of Chuck Roast being hanged, cooked, and eaten that they could watch whenever they wanted to so they could relive every second of hanging him, cooking him, and eating him, and so they could delight in doing so. They watched it often, and they could taste him in their mouths, on their tongues, and down their throats every time they watched it.

The Hangwomen & Cooks cremated his remains, placed his ashes in an urn, and displayed it on a shelf beneath still pictures taken from the recording of him wearing his hanging clothes, his white shirt and tie; of him as the Hangwomen & Cooks led him forcibly to the gallows; of him as the Hangwomen & Cooks forced him up the stairs to the gallows platform; of him as the Chief Hangwoman & Cook and her assistants noosed him and tied him up; of him as he stood on the gallows with the noose around his neck waiting nervously to be hanged with the eager, hungry, lip-licking Hangwomen & Cooks surrounding him; of him just before the Chief Hangwoman & Cook hanged him; of him just at the instant that the Chief Hangwoman & Cook pulled the lever and hanged him; of him hanging by his neck with the fatal noose around his neck; of him hanging from the gallows on which he had just been hanged.

Next to the pictures, the Hangwomen & Cooks also mounted the noose with which he had been hanged.

The Hangwomen & Cooks engraved a brass plaque with his name, the date of his birth, the date of his hanging, the date of his being cooked, and the date of his being eaten. Then they mounted the plaque on the wall above his urn so that they would continue to honor and remember him as a sacrifice and as a meal, and especially to remember how delicious he was.

For although they were cruel, vicious, elite, ravenous Killer Cannibals and Hangwomen & Cooks, they were sentimental about Chuck Roast just as they were sentimental about all the men that they had hanged, cooked, and eaten; about the fear and the terror Chuck Roast felt before they hanged him, cooked him, and ate him; and about the absolute domination, command, and control that they exercised over Chuck Roast; and remembering that all the men they had hanged, cooked, and eaten always tasted better because the Hangwomen& Cooks had dominated them, had absolute command of them, had absolute of their victims when they hanged them, cooked them, and ate them. Absolute command. Absolute control. Absolute domination. Absolute successful hanging. Absolute successful cooking. Absolute delicious eating.

And Chuck Roast had been their latest prize, their latest victim, their latest meal.

And he had hanged well.

And he had cooked well.

And he had been delicious.

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