Untitled story

A story I found long ago. It's a little odd at parts, think it might be a converted M/M story but end result is quite nice I think.



'Hello, I'm Matt Johnson from the Daily Register. I'm here for the interview with Ms. Zander.'

As soon as he announced his name and his business, the bored receptionist's eyes brightened as if she had just caught her first glimpse of her Christmas presents. 'Oh really? My, my, my…' She shook her head in amazement. 'Ms. Zander has been looking forward to this all week, and now I can see why.'

Matt smiled and tried not to blush. It was a rare thing for him to be the subject of such an effusion of praise, but he wasn't so inexperienced that he couldn't recognize it for what it was. 'Well, thank you. Could you tell her I'm here?'

'Anxious to begin, eh?' The receptionist said with an evil grin. She was a dark haired girl, narrow and compact, with big eyes and even bigger lips. 'Hold on a second and I'll buzz her.' Without taking her eyes off Matt, or changing the lascivious and more than a little conspiratorial expression on her face, the receptionist picked up the phone and dialed the President's office.

Matt found the receptionist's attention more than a little silly since there was nothing about him that, in his opinion, should have aroused such a reaction. He was dressed conservatively, yet comfortably, as befitted a reporter: jeans, dress shoes, button down shirt, tie and tweed jacket replete with elbow patches. Nothing about him stood out particularly, unless it was his size. Matt was a wall of a man at 6'6' and nearly 300 pounds. Built more like a linebacker than anyone's stereotype of a reporter. Maybe the receptionist just liked big men? Or maybe it was the beard?

'Ms. Zander?' the receptionist whispered into the phone, 'the reporter from the Daily Register is here… Yes, that reporter. I think you'll be very pleased… uh-huh. That's exactly what I mean.' The receptionist hung up with a barely contained smirk. 'Ms. Zander will see you now. Go right on through.'

'Thank you.' Matt flashed his best smile and the receptionist smiled back, but for some reason he couldn't shake the thought that the younger woman was privy to a joke that Matt wasn't. He arrived at the door of the president's office. The finely stenciled name on the door read 'Ms. Zander, President.'

'Come in,' called a feminine sonorous voice before he could even knock. Matt turned the knob and opened the door. The office was a plush affair, combining carpet and dark wood. Behind the pool-table sized desk sat the great woman herself, Ms. Zander. Matt had seen her picture before in the society page of the Daily Register, but that did not prepare him to be in the woman's considerable presence.

'Hello,' she said, standing to extend her hand. She was a tall woman, close to six feet tall. Her narrow eyes were hard and dark. They twinkled with obvious pleasure upon taking Matt in. Her dark hair was cut fairly short. Her teeth gleamed in her warm inviting smile, yet it reminded Matt of something predatory. Ms. Zander was lean and athletic. She looked like a beautiful amazon right from fantasy. 'I'm Ms. Zander. You must be Matt.'

'Yes,' he answered stupidly, 'I am. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised you know my name. Ms. Elder did say she would phone ahead.'

'She did indeed,' the statuesque woman murmured, 'but her call hardly prepared me for the likes of you.'

'How do you mean?' Matt held his hand for a few heartbeats too long.

'Oh, nothing really.' Ms. Zander took her seat in the big leather chair, motioned Matt into one of the chairs opposite her huge desk with a regal and almost negligible wave of her hand. 'Your editor-in-chief just said that you were my kind of man.'

Matt was more than a little surprised and he was sure his face betrayed his emotions before he could compose himself. 'She said that? She didn't really say that, did she?'

Ms.Zander laughed richly at Matt's discomfort. 'I'm sorry, Matt. I couldn't help but give you a hard time. Your editor and I go way back, all the way to college. I apologize for us having a bit of a laugh at your expense.'

'No, no,' he fumbled, 'it's quite all right. I'm flattered, I think.'

'You think?' she shot back with an arched eyebrow. 'A beautiful powerful woman like myself, tells you that you're her kind of man and you only think you're flattered? You are really going to have to polish up this interview technique of yours if you ever hope to get out of ad-copy and obits.'

'No, no! That's not what I meant at all!' Panic hit him like a bucket of cold water. His Editor, Ms. Elder, would be livid with him if he managed to screw up what was essentially supposed to be cakewalk assignment. 'It's just what you do here. What I mean is that 'being your kind of man' could be taken any number of ways.'

'Just two actually.'

Matt was sure there was sweat on his forehead. As for Ms. Zander, there was a wicked smile on her lips. It took a few heartbeats before he could find the moisture in his mouth to speak.

'As a man-'

'Or as meat,' Ms.Zander finished for him. 'That's what this interview is meant to be about isn't it? You aren't uncomfortable with the subject, are you?'

'No, not at all,' he lied. 'The Population Readjustment Act makes a great deal of sense. When the plague wiped out 95% of the world's female population, there wasn't much of an option for easing social stresses except finding radical ways to handle all the surplus males about.'

'And its been a windfall for me and my business,' Ms.Zander enthused, leaning back in her big leather chair. Her dark business jacket contrasted dramatically with her dark burgundy blouse. 'I'm sure that wasn't part of the plan, of course. But manbeef has become the cheapest source of protein in the country. Is your girlfriend a customer?' she asked suddenly

'Of course. What women isn't these days?'

'And it doesn't bother you at all? That you could just as easily be inside the display case looking out? Does your girlfriend eye you in odd ways?' She said grinning mischeviously.

Matt swallowed nervously before continuing. He knew that this assignment was really little more than an exercise in P.R. for Ms.Zander's Fatted Longpigs, the Daily Register's number one advertiser. He was supposed to come up with a light 'interest piece' about Ms.Zander's Fatted Longpigs, highlighting the 'exceptional products, available at everyday low prices'… all that kind of bunk. If Ms. Zander had any inkling that her business and its services would not be painted in the most glowing and complimentary terms, she was going to send him back to the paper and he'd never get a shot at doing any kind of real journalism.

'I won't say that I haven't thought about it,' he began carefully. 'What man hasn't since the new laws were enacted? But as far as I'm concerned, any guy who ends up disenfranchised just wasn't trying very hard to stay out of the processing plants or the zoos.'

'Oh really?' Ms.Zander smirked. 'What makes you say that?'

'Well, there are very limited ways that a man can end up disenfranchised. After the first felony or second misdemeanor, or if they are forced to declare bankruptcy, default on loans, or fail to pay public fines or taxes. Really, as long as a man is law abiding and pays his bills, there's no way they are going to be disenfranchised.'
Of course, bad health of some sort will have you end up in the lions cage at the zoo, but that's another matter altogether'. 'Ah, the zoo! I _love_ watching those big cats eat....especially the lionesses! She enthused. You know, I sponser trips for the girl scouts to see live feedings at the zoo. They love it!'
'And how do you feel about the fact that homosexual men are exempt from disenfranchisement?' she prodded.

'It makes sense that they should be. As for the homosexual men, well, these days they aren't the problem. It's all those straight men wandering around without mates. Something has to be done to get those numbers down to manageable levels.'

'I suppose,' her tone seemed to indicate that she didn't think much of Matt's attempts at rationalization. 'So what did Michelle, I mean, Ms. Elder, tell you about this assignment?'

'That first and foremost I was supposed to make you happy-'

'Ah, that sounds promising.'

'- and in order to do that, I was to do a very friendly piece on your operation here.'

'Yes, yes,' she sighed dismissively. 'Interview the staff, tour the facilities… the friendly people, the tasty meats, the low prices, yadda, yadda, yadda. Been there, done that. If you're going to do something like that you might as well reprint last year's article.'

Zander now had even more of Matt's attention, if that were at all possible. Matt really hadn't been looking forward to putting together what would amount to little more than an advertisement for one of the paper's most important clients. 'Weren't you satisfied with the way you were handled?'

Zander gave him a smirk that seemed to say 'That set up is too easy to bother with.' 'The last reporter Michelle sent me worked out wonderfully. But somehow it strikes me as just terribly boring to do the same kind of story again.'

Matt couldn't believe his ears. This was exactly what he'd been telling his editor yesterday afternoon. Ms. Elder had been sure to emphasize that the point of this story was to make Ms. Zander a happy advertiser. And here she was expressing the same ideas about the story that Matt had. 'Well, tell me, Ms. Zander, what is it that you want?'

Zander regarded Matt with renewed interest. 'I want all kinds of things. You need to be more specific.'

'What is it that you want this article to do for your business? What are your needs right now? What can our paper do to satisfy those needs?'

'Hmmmm? That's a good question. Perhaps you noticed those protesters out front?'

'PETM?' Pronounced 'Pet 'em.'

'People for the Ethical Treatment of Men.' She rolled her eyes. 'As if I were running some kind of Medieval torture chamber here! Yes, those busy bodies. What can your paper do to make them go away? They're cluttering up my parking lot.'

'What you need is a story that shows that conditions in here are not what the PETM crowd says they are. Something that demonstrates the humane and sanitary conditions and shows that the men who end up here either deserve to be here, or are well adjusted to their new role in society.'

The smile that crept across Ms.Zander's face was positively Grinch-like. 'Not bad. Not bad at all. Michelle didn't mention you were smart too. That's a nice side benefit.'

Matt felt a little less flattered. Apparently 'smart' wasn't on Ms.Zander's ideal man list. Oh course, it also made Matt wonder what else his editor had shared with Ms. Zander. Matt had only been at the Daily Register a few days before his editor, Michelle Elder, had announced that the only way Matt was going to keep his job was if he learned how to satisfy her as she rode his face to one orgasm after another. A few sessions a week in the office had quickly grown to Matt staying late every night so that Michelle could fuck his ass raw with her 8' dildo and tie him down and sit on his face for hours at a time. If Michelle had shared any of that with Ms. Zander, there was a good chance Matt was going to have to please the older woman with more than just his writing skills.

'So maybe,' Matt continued, 'what I should do, rather than interview your staff is interview the meat? Get their perspective?'

Ms.Zander laughter was dismissive. 'Oh, that won't work at all.'

'Why not?'

'My meatboys are not in a very chatty mood, for rather obvious reasons, I should think. You go down there with a tape recorder and note pad and none of them are going to give you the time of day. Unless you want to be deluged by meatboys trying to explain to you what a terrible mistake this all is and how they really shouldn't be there.'

'No, that really isn't what I was hoping for. What I was hoping for was to get something of their perspective.'

'On the other hand, I think your idea has real merit,' Ms.Zander mused. Her eyes narrowed conspiratorially for a moment. 'Would you mind if I made a suggestion to you?'

'O f course not.'

'How would you feel about joining this morning's herd?'

'What?' Even as the word leapt from his mouth, he knew he had just made himself look like a fool.

'Hear me out. This might work. If you joined this morning's herd that's coming in for quality assessment and processing, you'd be able to talk with my meatboys as if you were one of them. Plus you would get a tour of the facility, from the inside out. While there would be some discomfort, it would give you a unique perspective on our operation that no other reported has ever had. You would indeed have the meats' perspective since you will have experienced it. Somewhat anyways.'

Matt's mind raced through the possibilities. On the one hand it would grant him a special kind of access, possibly giving him the makings of a truly great story. Besides, if he discovered that the PETM protesters were right, he could sell this story to a bigger paper, maybe make a real name for himself. Even if there wasn't a scandal to be found, a gutsy move like this might show his editor that he had what it took to do real investigative journalism. On the other hand…

'Just so long as you don't lose me among the herd. I don't relish the idea of trying to explain to your butchers that this is all some terrible mistake and that I'm really an undercover reporter.'

'Like they haven't heard that one before! Don't worry about that. I'll be with you the whole way. Besides, all the meatboys wear programmable bar-code tags. Nothing irrevocable happens to them without that tag getting read. I'll be sure to give you one that will keep you out of harms way.'

'But you're sure you'll be with me? Keeping an eye on me?'

'Oh,' she growled. 'You can count on it.'


Five minutes later Matt found himself in a room filled with piles of clothes being sorted by dozens of workers in white smocks and gloves. Piles were being sifted into pants, shirts, socks, shoes, belts; all tossed into large bins marked with white stencil letters announcing the contents.

'This morning's herd already came through here,' Ms.Zander explained. She had grabbed a white work smock with her name and title stitched into the front pocket. In the pocket were a number of pens, as well as one item that looked like a small sliver of bone maybe three inches long. 'We have them leave their clothes here since they won't be needing them anymore. Clothes would only get in the way of our quality assessment anyways, but I also find that getting the meatboys out of their clothes tends to take most of the fight out of them. The clothes are then sorted out and sold at our second hand store. It does quite well for us since there's no overhead.'

'Do they ever give you any trouble?'

'Sometimes, especially the felons. But that's what the cattle prods are for. Also, I have my own pair of pet lionesses. The really bad ones are made examples of in front of the herd. Watching a male being eaten alive by my kitties knocks any thought of trouble right out of the herd. So? Are you going to give me any trouble?'

'Trouble?'

'About stripping. You're not exactly going to blend in with that tie and glasses.'

Matt was sure he was blushing. 'No, not at all. I'll just need something to put my clothes in to keep them separate. I don't relish having to drive home in the nude.'

'Don't worry. You won't.' She sounded quite sure about that.

Ms.Zander produced a medium sized cardboard box and quickly scribbled 'Property of Matt Johnson' on the lid with a blue marker. 'That should do,' she said tossing it onto the table in front of Matt. It took Matt a few seconds to realize that Ms.Zander wasn't going to leave the room or turn her back while Matt undressed. 'C'mon. Don't dawdle. You're holding up the whole herd here. We've got to catch you up with them.'

Matt turned his back on Ms.Zander and faced the wall. At least looking at the wall provided an illusion of privacy. He tugged his tie out from under his collar and folded and placed it in the box. Looking to his left, he could see the clothes sorters watching him unabashedly. So much more the illusion of privacy, he thought. He began unbuttoning his shirt.

'Ms. Zander, how did you come to own this company?'

'The company was started by a fellow named Holling back in the '70s. He was the one who gave me my start in the business as one of the butchers. He taught me everything he knew about the business. I worked my way up from there. Unfortunately he had the misfortune of suffering a personal bankruptcy which I conveniently arranged. I also made it so he was found dipping into the company funds to make up the difference. When the Board of Directors caught his hand in the cookie jar, he was disenfranchised.'

Matt put his shoes and socks into his box. Then the full impact of what she'd just said caught up with him. He turned quickly to face Ms.Zander and caught her eyes traveling back up from below his beltline. Ms.Zander didn't seem embarrassed at all by that. 'Are you saying your old mentor ended up in his own meat packing plant?'

'The irony is delicious even if he was not. Hurry up with those pants. Time's a wasting.'

Matt turned back to the wall and began to unbuckle his belt. This was the last hurtle before he was totally and utterly naked before this woman… this rather intimidating and compelling woman. Somehow, what with the way Ms. Zander had been looking at Matt all afternoon, he felt he wasn't really any less naked with his clothes than without. Matt unzipped his pants and let them drop. Stepping out of them he quickly folded them and placed them in the box. Now there only remained his boxer briefs. The air felt very cold. Taking a deep breath, he put his thumbs into the elastic and pulled them down and stepped out of them. There, he thought, all done. Except for the hard part; turning around and facing those unflinching and appraising eyes. Matt turned to face Ms. Zander.

Ms. Zander let her eyes walk slowly up Matt, from his feet to his eyes. She didn't hurry. Ms. Zander raised an eyebrow as her eyes drank up every inch of Matt's six-and-half-foot frame, but Matt couldn't decipher her expression. Was she mocking? Did she approve? When their eyes met Ms.Zander simply said 'And the glasses and your wrist watch. Meatboys don't have any personal effects.' Matt took them off and placed them in the box.

'Perfect,' Ms.Zander smiled. 'You'll fit in just fine. Now out those doors at the rear of the dressing room.' She pointed him towards a pair of swinging doors. As he padded towards them on his bare feet, the cool tiles sent a chill through him. Either that or the realization that all the women who were sorting the clothing left behind were watching him walk by, their eyes unabashedly feeling and stroking every contour of his body.

'Jane,' Ms. Zander said to one of the sorters, 'would you see to it that Mr. Johnson's things are properly looked after?'

Matt never saw the confused look on Jane's face, or the conspiratorial wink that Ms.Zander used to answer all of Jane's questions. 'Ooooh yesss, Ms. Zander,' Jane said, nodding slowly. 'I can sure do that.' Once Matt and Ms.Zander disappeared through the double doors, Jane tipped the box of his clothes and effects over onto the sorting table and began going about her duties.


Matt did his best to ignore his exposed genitals, figuring that the best way not to call attention to his nudity was to ignore it and hope that others did the same. It didn't seem to be working. Ms.Zander was hardly making any eye contact with Matt at all. Instead she was talking to Matt's big beefy chest, conversing with his incongruously pink and delicate looking nipples. Her eyes spent as much time below Matt's waist as above. It was becoming a bit uncomfortable, despite the initial feelings of flattery.

'There's one last detail were going to have to take care of before I introduce you into the herd,' Ms.Zander said. With that she produced a pair of stainless steel handcuffs. They dangled from the tip of her index finger. 'How many girls have given you jewelry on the first date?'

'I didn't realize this was a date?' Matt shot back. 'You treat all your dates like this and you're unlikely to get a second one.'

'Nonsense,' Ms.Zander said confidently. 'You're loving every minute of this.'

'Oh, am I now?' Matt suddenly felt ridiculous sparing with this woman without a stitch of clothes on. While he could verbally fence with the best rapier edged wit all day and all night, it suddenly seem like the height of folly now that he was out of his clothes and Ms.Zander was still fully dressed. It dawned on Matt just how much stripping the new meatboys early in their processing really took a lot of the fight out of them. Being naked around clothed people seemed to give Matt an immediate sense of submission. Acknowledging that, he turned and put his hands behind his back for Ms.Zander to attach the handcuffs.

'Good boy,' she said, as she snapped the cuffs onto his wrists. 'Didn't even have to be told to put your hands behind your back. I think you've done this before.'

'Not exactly, but I'm a quick study.'

Ms.Zander spun Matt around. 'We'll see about that,' she smirked. 'Now go through those doors on the left.' Matt obeyed and stepped through the swinging double doors into a huge room. Metal railings divided the room into aisles which each led to a set of wooden stocks at the far end of the room. They looked like something out of the Salem witch trials. 'Come along now. We've got to move quickly or you're going to throw the whole factory's production schedule off. Just put your head right in there.'

Eyeing the rather Medieval-looking device, Matt felt a wave of apprehension. 'What do you need to put me in that for? You're not going to brand me or something?'

'Oh of course not!' Ms.Zander almost laughed. 'Ranches brand. This is a meat packing plant. But yes, I do need to attach an identity tag to your ear. It's like getting your ear pierced.'

'What do I need that for?'

Ms.Zander put her hands in her pockets and struck an impatient pose. 'Well for one thing, all the other meatboys have them and if you don't want to stand out, you'll want one too. For another, like I already told you, it's bar coded with information about how you are to be handled. This one,' she held up a small steel rectangle on the end of a small metal ring, 'is for you. It's coded with 'Do not process' orders, just in case you get away from me in the sorting and grading room. It's your safety net.'

Matt was sure that it had to be the effect of his being nude that made him so compliant. Nevertheless, he leaned over at the waist, bending his knees slightly, and placed his neck into the well-worn wooden stocks. Zander quickly closed the stock over the top of his neck and dropped a pin through the latch to keep it shut.

'There you go. Mmmmmmm! Don't you look just great like that.'

'I'll have to take your word for it,' Matt said uncomfortably, the stocks being a little small for his thick neck.

Ms.Zander stood back and admired the lines and form of the big beefy bull she had at her mercy. 'You know, I'm a little surprised that you haven't ended up here sooner looking like that. If I were you, I'd consider switching your orientation? If you were gay you wouldn't have to worry about ending up on the menu. A real danger for a specimen like you.'

'Can we just get on with this?'

'Oh, so now you're in a hurry? Alright, let's see how you like this.' Ms.Zander took a small device off a nearby shelf. It looked a bit like a price gun, except the business end terminated in a pair of short stubs, set close together. Ms.Zander handled it like a gunslinger.

Matt craned his head to get a look. 'Is that for putting the identity tag on my earlobe?'

'No, it's not. It's for your other piercing.'

'What other piercing?'

With that, Ms.Zander struck like a snake. One hand grabbed Matt by the hair to hold him still, while the other one wielded the 'gun.' She stuck the two stubby protrusions up his nostrils, pressing them in a far as they could go. Matt was about to roar in protest when his head was filled with a loud 'crunch.' The pain was sharp and intense and went right through his eyes, which immediately filled with tears. He jumped crazily and bucked against the wooden stocks, which rocked a bit but held. The fingers on his cuffed hands worked crazily behind his back as he pulled at the steel links. Every nerve in his nose was firing wildly.

'Yaaaaooow-shit! What the hell are you- yugh- yyyyyyaaaaa-chooo!' A staccato barrage of sneezing cut off any further protest. Again the stocks rocked as the sneezes caused Matt to jerk and stumble in the stocks. The sneezing only caused Ms.Zander to laugh uproariously.

'I didn't realize you were allergic to steel,' she laughed.

'What the hell did you do?' Matt bellowed, pulling his head back against the stock. 'That hurt like hell!'

'I figured it was better to surprise you with it. That's your nose ring. All the livestock get one. We find it's a very efficient way to leash a meatboy.'

'You pierced my nose?' Matt licked his mustache and tasted blood. 'I'm bleeding!'

Ms.Zander brought a cloth up to his nose and squeezed it. 'All you need is a little direct pressure,' she said dismissing his protest. 'Don't be such a big baby about it.'

'I don't want a nose ring! I'll look like a punk rock retard!'

'You look like a nice beefy bull, but don't worry about it. We can take it out later and it'll heal over in a few days. Just like your nipple ring.'

'Nipple ring?' The rising panic in his voice was obvious. 'You said the ID tag went in my ear?'

'Well, normally yes, but you're so tall it makes the tag rather hard to read way up there. Hold still.'

'Oh come on! Waitaminute!' Ms.Zander put the first 'ring gun' back on the shelf and picked up another one. This 'gun' was distinguished by a metal tag dangling from the end of the 'barrel.' 'Look, I've changed my mind about this!'

'Come on, the hard part is over. This one just stings a bit. In for a penny, in for a pound,' Ms.Zander smiled. 'You're almost there.'

Matt gritted his teeth. 'Alright, but make it quick before I lose my nerve.'

Ms.Zander came around to Matt's side and knelt down. She brought the device up to his right nipple, and paused. 'Huh? You see something new every day in this business. What's up with your nipples?'

'What are you talking about?' Matt squirmed uncomfortably.

'Your nipples. They're all soft and puffy.'

Matt blushed down to his thighs. 'Yeah, well this may but a crimp in your nipple ring plan. I have inverted nipples. They poke in, not out.'

'I see. That's new one on me. Well, let's see what we can do about that.' She set the ring gun down and pinched the soft nipple.

'Ah! What are you-'

'Shhhhhhhh! I'm just teasing it out.'

Matt craned his neck left and right. He couldn't see anything Ms.Zander was doing, but he could certainly feel that more than just his nipples were being teased out. The wave of embarrassment that swept over him only seemed to encourage his cock to fill even more.

'That's it,' Ms.Zander soothed as she pinched and twisted Matt's nipple. 'There you go.'

Matt had just started to lose himself in the sexual glow Ms. Zander was stoking in him with the ring gun fired and pierced his nipple. 'YOW! Goddammit!' He bucked and jumped in the stocks while Ms.Zander stood back and waited for him to calm down.

'All through?' Ms.Zander asked mockingly.

'Yessss,' Matt hissed, more than a little humiliated.

Ms.Zander slipped the pin out of the latch and threw the stock open. Matt straightened up and stretched his back and legs. Looking down and pursing his lips he could see that thick steel ring resting atop his mustache. 'Jesus! It's freaking huge.'

'It has to be. A smaller one might get pulled out. Now, hold still while I confirm your tag.' Ms.Zander stood in front of Matt, apparently ignoring Matt's half-hard cock, and raised a bar code reader to his right nipple. Dangling from it by a thin ring was a small dog-tag sized metal tag. The scanner beeped and Ms.Zander turned it around so Matt could see the readout. It read: 'HOLD- DO NOT PROCESS'

'Happy?' she asked.

'Delirious,' he grumbled. 'Where to next?'

'First I leash you.' Ms.Zander clipped a slim chain to the heavy gage ring through Matt's nose. 'Then we go for a walk. Come along.' She gave the long chain a slight tug and Matt was immediately impressed with its effectiveness. He padded along a few steps behind Ms.Zander.

Ms.Zander quickly led him to a double door, which she opened with a swipe of her key card. The lock beeped and the doors opened automatically revealing a huge auditorium filled with hundreds of naked, handcuffed men of all shapes, sizes, ages and colors. They were milling around, filling the air with a buzz of hushed conversation.

Ms.Zander unhooked the chain from Matt's nose ring and gave him a shove forward into the holding area. 'Now play nice with the other livestock and I'll be by to collect you in a few hours.' With that the doors slid shut, leaving Matt with a last image of Ms.Zander's predatory grin.

Turning to face the crowd before him, Matt was again struck by the wide assortment of men that had been gathered. They were, however, all alike in their nudity, the handcuffs keeping their wrists locked in the small of their backs, the metal ID tags dangling from their ears and the thick steel rings piercing their septums. The rings lay heavily on their upper lips and in some cases seemed to affect their speech a little.

However disenfranchisement might have made them equals, the men still seemed to group themselves as if social and racial distinctions had any meaning in their lives anymore. The men, or perhaps a better term at this point in their lives would have been 'livestock,' gathered together in small groups sorted according to their age and race. Rather than intrude in any given group, Matt just circled through the crowd. There had to be hundreds of livestock crowded together here. Their muttering voices rose and blended together under the high roof of the vast room. Snippets of conversation drifted to Matt's ears…



'This is your goddamn fault! I told you those business deductions would be disallowed!'



'Sorry? Shit no. Th'only thing I'm sorry 'bout is that I didn't get a chance to knock over a few more banks before they caught me.'



'I never thought Dad would really do it. I mean, I woulda taken the trash out if I'd known he was serious.'



'Nah, the judge said it was too late for all that. Whatever I owned would be seized and used to pay the back taxes once I'm … well, you know.'



'She said he got a good price for me. I guess that's something…'



'I can't believe it. The woman said she was feeding me to her pet lions today!


'Hey dummy! You're here, they got you.'



'They say if you given them any trouble they can make it a lot worse.'



'How could it be worse than this? We're going to be butchered like steers?'


You could end up like him, fed to her lions! you want that? She'll throw you to 'em alive if you so much as back talk to anyone! So if you know what's good for you, you'll just say 'Yes, ma'am, and smile.'


The stories Matt heard were vast and varied. Everyone here has screwed up in some way. Transgressed against the new order. Nevertheless, to a man, they had ended up here through no fault but their own. They were debtors, criminals, fools and slackers. It was a wonder more men didn't end up here. Hell, it was a wonder more men didn't opt to change their orientation to homosexual. Matt felt a lot more comfortable once he listened to the men's' griping and complaining. Unlike some of the rumors he's heard, no one was wailing about having be snatched off the street, or tricked into signing away their enfranchisement. Of course, since the date of his appearance at the plant had been known for weeks, perhaps that did not prove as much as he'd like it to.

After about an hour in the pen, a loud claxon sounded and a set of doors opened at one end of the vast holding area. Through the doors filed several dozen women dressed in white smocks, plastic work helmets and safety glasses. Each carried a heavy baton. Judging from the weight and heft of them, Matt figured they might be heavy-duty cattle prods. The women fanned out and one of them began to address the milling crowd with a megaphone.

'All livestock will assemble for inspection and grading! Begin forming yourselves into straight lines! Don't give anyone any lip or you'll get a taste of the stun prods!'

There was some resistance. Some of the felony convicts tried to cause a problem, but with their hands tied there was little they could do except get hit with stun prods and go down quivering like jelly. It didn't take more than a few jolts before even the most troublesome livestock were willing to take their place in line.

The overseers formed the herd into a dozen or so lines that stretched across the length of room. Even so, there were so many men crammed into the space that they were forced to stand uncomfortably close together, often times pressed chest to back. Forced into such proximity the chatter from the crowd dropped off to zero. Being a head taller than most of the herd, Matt could easily see to the front of the lines. Waiting at the front of each line was a table with a pair of overseers. Armed with clipboards they walked around each man, giving him about thirty seconds of their time. They poked him, prodded him, pinched him here and there. Then they took one of several color-coded pens from their table and made a mark on his right hip. Once the assessment was done a leash chain was attached to his nose ring and he was led out of the room through one of four doors marked A, B, C or D.

As he was drawn inexorably closer to the front of the line, Matt began to cast his eyes about nervously for Ms. Zander. He has assumed that Ms.Zander would be waiting there at the front to pluck him out of line before he was sent to processing. On the other hand, the beautiful bitch did seem to enjoy letting him squirm. There was no telling how late in the process she might choose to intervene. In fact, Ms.Zander might not intervene until she saw a little nervous perspiration on Matt's forehead. That would be just about her speed.

Finally, he watched nervously as the man in front of him, a recent college graduate who had defaulted on his loans, was inspected and then stenciled with a purple 'B.' Then the overseer in front of him waved him forward with a no-nonsense 'Next!'

Matt stepped forward and cast his gaze around for Ms.Zander. Without his glasses Matt couldn't tell if Ms.Zander was nearby. She might be nearby, but most things beyond twenty feet were fuzzy enough that one woman in a smock with a hardhat on was pretty much going to look like any other.

'Step up on the scale,' the overseer commanded. Matt did as he was asked. Suddenly the overseer gave a whistle of surprise. 'Well now, three hundred pounds! You are a big boy.'

'What have you got there, Megan?' came a familiar voice. Matt turned to see Ms. Zander descending a set of steps onto the sorting room floor. She was wearing a white smock like the others, but no hardhat. Apparently OSHA regulations didn't apply to the boss.

'Hello Ms. Zander,' Megan answered. 'It's nothing important.'

'I'll be the judge of that if you don't mind,' Ms.Zander smirked as she sauntered up to where Matt and Megan were standing. 'My, my, my! He is a big one,' she said as she looked Matt up and down. 'Did you grade him yet?'

'No Ma'am, I was just about to.'

'Well, give me your clipboard for a moment. I like to keep my hand in now and again so I don't lose my eye for evaluating man-flesh.' Megan handed the clipboard to Ms.Zander who produced a pen from her breast pocket. 'Now let's see… he weighs in quite nicely. And his legs…' Reaching down she gave the muscles of Matt's thigh as hard squeeze. The feeling of Ms.Zander's hand on his thigh was electrifying to Matt. He swallowed nervously and hoped that his inspection would not get too much more intimate, lest his anatomy betray his rather taunt sexual frustration. Looking up from his thigh, Ms.Zander gave Matt a surreptitious wink. Dammit! he thought. She's going to make this as difficult as possible for me.

Ms.Zander walked in a slow circle around Matt. As she ticked off various points of Matt's anatomy she gave each a little pop with the end of her pen. 'Excellent shoulder steaks on this one… a good meaty brisket…and a nice soft belly. That'll mean good marbling throughout. Not enough fat and they're dry and tough. Bet there's some nice juicy bacon under that downy belly, eh ladies? A couple of meaty racks of ribs too, topped by these succulent steaks.' For added emphasis, Ms.Zander stuck her clipboard under her arm and grabbed Matt's meaty pecs with both her hands. Suddenly feeling his nipples squeezed by Ms.Zander's feminine fingers caused an involuntary gasp of surprise to leap from Matt's lips.

'Hmmm? Still some life in him too,' Ms.Zander quipped to her overseers. 'Yes… a nice layer of fat over all that good meat… long and broad… handsome too, for that matter. Yesssss…' Ms.Zander seemed lost in thought for a second. Then suddenly she slapped Matt's ass cheeks hard, first the left then the right. 'Good. Yes, I like this. A fine firm pair of mouth watering rump roasts.'

Sliding around in front of him, Ms.Zander cupped Matt's fat ball sack and began kneading and rolling his testicles like bread dough. The rather rough handling made Matt grunt uncomfortable and stoop a little in discomfort.

'Those are quite the oysters you've got there, big boy. Been a while since I felt some this fat and heavy.'

'Thank you.' The mumbled words were out of his mouth before he even realized it. He blushed furiously as Ms.Zander and the rest of the overseers laughed out loud.

'Oh no,' Ms.Zander laughed. 'Thank you! Thank you for bringing us such a fabulous feast. You've done an amazing job keeping that perfect balance between muscle and fat. It's quite amazing. I just wish I had a hundred more like you.' Then turning to the rest of the overseers Ms.Zander cleared her throat and spoke to get all their attentions. 'Ladies, I want you to listen up for a minute. When you are grading the incoming meat, I want you to keep this meatboy in mind. This specimen is what I have in mind when I think A quality beef. Go ahead,' she said quietly to Matt, 'give them a slow turn.' Shocked, but still undeniably excited and intrigued by what Ms.Zander was saying about him, Matt slowly turned in a circle for the gathered overseers. 'Note the thick arms and legs. The broad shoulders, heavily laden with meat. The full chest and belly. Those round hams. That creamy, perfect skin. There isn't an ounce of this meatboy that isn't top of the line beef. If we ever start raising them here like battery farms, this is going to be our goal, our meatboy ideal. Have you got that?'

A chorus of 'Yes, Ms. Zander,' was returned.

'Good.' Snatching up a blue marker from her pocket, Ms.Zander wielded it against Matt's right hip like a foil, leaving a dark blue A surrounded by a circle. 'And as the best Zander Fatted Longpigs has to offer our consumers, I shall be taking this one for some special handling.' Removing a chain from her pocket she deftly hooked it through Matt's nose ring and with a gentle tug and 'Come along, meatboy,' she led Matt through the doorway marked with the big letter 'A.'

Once they were through the doorway Matt professed to Ms.Zander. 'I see you haven't lost your sense of humor.'

'About what?'

'All that bunk back there about my meat quality. You know there's no reason to try and embarrass me anymore. I promise you I am sufficiently embarrassed.'

Ms.Zander stopped and turned to look at Matt. 'You think I was making that up? Please! I'm not going to give incorrect directives to my quality control staff just to make you feel uncomfortable or needlessly flatter you. I meant every word I said in there.'

Matt could feel his brain stumble, but he failed to hit the brakes on his mouth before the words came stumbling out. 'You- you really mean I rate so- ?'

'You, Mr. Johnson, are A grade livestock. That mark on your hip is my highest seal of approval. If you were one of our livestock you'd be reserved for special events sales only. No getting quartered or reduced to steaks or lion food for you. Your meat and your looks qualify you as one of our whole roasters. Maybe even one of our live roasters.'

'A live roaster?

'Oh yes, only the healthiest, meatiest and prettiest qualify to be whole live roasters. It's a service we provide here at the plant for a select clientele. Now, come with me and I'll give you a tour of the rest of the plant. You might as well see where the lesser grade meatboys end up. It might make you appreciate the privileges of your grade.' With a soft jerk on his nose chair, Ms.Zander led him deeper into the processing plant.

'What about getting me back into my clothes?'

'Not just yet,' she smiled. 'I want you to have the full meatboy experience before you leave here, or at least as much of it as you're able to legally. You won't be getting those clothes back just yet. Besides, I think I've decided that I like you naked.'

'Oh have you now? And who are you to decide that I should be naked?'

Ms. Zander gave him a hard stare. 'I am Ms. Zander. I'm your paper's leading advertiser and I'm a personal friend of your editor, who would fire you with just a single word from me. If I decide I want you naked, you are naked. Understand?'

Matt felt the fear and excitement crawl up his back again. How was it that this woman could make him feel so helpless and so turned on at the same time? 'I understand,' he mumbled.

'Besides,' Ms.Zander said with a grin, 'I think you're enjoying all this attention, just a little. Aren't you?'

'It's a little strange to be the center of so much attention,' he carefully admitted.

'Yes, but you seem to be enjoying it. I bet you're quite the ham. The stage kind, not the breakfast kind,' she teased.

Eventually Ms.Zander led Matt across a catwalk high above the factory floor. The air was filled with the din of machinery. The very air vibrated. Below them crawled a conveyor belt, upon which dozens of men stamped with red 'D' grades were hogtied, ankles secured to wrists behind their backs. The conveyor belt led to the open back of an 18 wheel truck and the men were being stacked on it some right on top of one another. The side of the truck was emblazened with the letters 'Alpo dog food'. The rumble of the conveyor and the rest of the machinery drowned out the voices of the men below, but judging from the way they were flapping their lips, they were not going quietly. A skinny elderly man, white faced with terror, reached the end of the conveyor and was unceremoniously tossed on top of those already in the truck. Just behind him, a flabby, gray hair man who, if you'd put him in a suit, could have been a banker, was next and feebly struggling as he too was tossed into the truck.

'This,' Ms. Zander shouted over the noise, 'is where our D grades end up. The girls call this 'The Skank Truck' since this is where the dregs of our daily take end up. Most end up as dog or cat food. But many are sold to the zoo to feed the carnivores. As I said before we even sponser a girl scout trip every year so the girls can watch live feedings to lions, tigers, crocs....even a large snake every once in a while. At the Alpo dog food plant, they are ground up in a huge abbatoir. Everything goes in: meat, hair, bone and giblets. Once they're ground up they end up in huge pressure cooker where they are simmered and boiled for a couple of days. Some of it ends up canned for pet food. Some is used for agricultural animal feed.'

Matt looked on curiously as another struggling man was hauled into the back of the truck. 'All these men will end up as some sort of pet food. Is this where you find the meat for your lions?

'Well,' Ms.Zander explained. 'The D grades all end up here, regardless of their behavior. However, the troublemakers are fed to my kitties regardless of what grade they are. Trust me, you wouldn't want to end up in a cage with them! Their natural born sadists, those two. They can feed on a man for hours without killing him. They can eat upwards of half his weight while he screams away in agony. After that the male is beyond comprehending. Quite a show really. Which reminds me....Alice? Could you get me a hard case and put him aside? The cats need to be fed today'. 'Yes, Ms. Zander!' She replied happily. 'Shall we move on?' A gentle tug and they continued deeper into the facility.

'Doesn't that seem a bit, well, inhumane?'

'Well, that would be an issue if they were human,' Ms. Zander explained over her shoulder, 'but they aren't, are they? By the time they come to us a court has already made the determination to disenfranchise them. Besides, cat's gotta eat ya know? Mother Nature Red in tooth and claw. I can't imagine what goes through their mind while the lions feed. Frankly, if they knew what was really in store for them, a lot of livestock would kill themselves if they could. Let's see about the B and C grade meatboys.' Matt shuddered as he watched Alice grab a male put him aside as Ms. Zander asked. An image formed in his head of Ms. Zander throwing this poor male to her lions and then watching as they ate him alive.

Ms. Zander pushed open another door to the side and led Matt into a room where the coppery scent of blood hit his nose like a slap in the face. The room was long and narrow. On one long wall were a series of big tubs marked 'Heart,' 'Liver,' 'Kidneys,' etc. On the opposite wall was a long line of naked men, wrists tied behind their backs and hanging upside down by their bound ankles. Their ankle restraints were hung over heavy meathooks that dangled from a set of casters set in a track in the ceiling. They entered the room from the left, rolling on the ceiling mounted runners through a door that swung open and closed automatically, and proceeded to the right. As the men entered they quickly got a look of where they were, but before more than a short syllable could be uttered, one of the workers drew a scalpel-sharp blade across the dangling man's throat, from ear to ear. The first man Matt saw enter the room was young, mid-twenties, with a trim but hard body covered with tattoos. He hardly had time to utter more than a gasp before he gushed like a punctured wineskin. The dying man's confusion and disbelief were utterly apparent, but didn't last long. The executioner quickly passed the helplessly wriggling man down the line to the next worker who pushed a narrow blade into his belly, just below, or depending on orientation, above his breastbone. She popped the blade in and drew it up to just above his pubic hair with all the effort and seriousness of someone zipping up a jacket. Still flopping and writhing, the dying man's belly immediately bloomed with a bouquet of thick ropey intestines. The disemboweler gave the twitching, draining body a shove and he rolled down the line to the next worker who deftly reached inside this new opening and began to remove the man's innards. The dying livestock continued to wriggle like a fish on a line, only more weakly. By the time she passed him to the worker who removed his liver and kidneys, setting them in the marked tubs, his movements seemed merely reflexive.

'Mass production,' Ms.Zander said proudly. 'Each worker performs just one step in the process. While they're draining out, the line workers set to gutting, skinning, cleaning and quartering them. Once they're quartered our more skilled workers set to reducing the carcasses to the roasts and steaks you see in most meat departments. At least with the B grade meatboys. The C grades are de-boned and end up as either ground beef or the filling for sausages. Hot dogs, breakfast fritters, Kielbasa. You name it, we stuff it.'

Even before Ms.Zander had finished her short speech, a second man, looking like a corn fed farm hand, was being opened from ear to ear and shoved unceremoniously down the line. Matt felt a sudden and unexpected sense of connection to these men. After all, he'd been down there on the sorting floor with them only a few minutes earlier. Sure, it was their fault that they'd ended up here, the law was the law, but somehow, the idea of being loaded so mechanically passed down the line, like some sprocket in a mass production assembly line, was utterly chilling.

'C'mon, Matt, no point in lingering here. This is no place for an A grade meatboy like you.' Ms.Zander led him down the line, further and further away from where the men first entered the room. As they walked along, the hanging men became less and less recognizable. Before long they were just empty half carcasses, being taken down off their hooks and placed onto butcher's blocks. The workers efficiently wielded their tools, dismantling them like jigsaw puzzles made of meat. As he was lead out of the room Matt caught sight of a table piled high with heads. Many of them still bore an expression of amazement. Others appeared asleep. One he recognized as the teenager who wouldn't take out the garbage.

As soon as he was out of the cutting room Matt's mind began to race, as if it had been running at high revolutions and suddenly popped into gear. He had been mesmerized by the scene; unable to form a single question. Some reporter you are, he thought. Trying to recover he cleared his throat.

'Ahhhh… so? Um, what do you do with the A grades?'

'Don't you worry that plump little behind of yours one bit. You'll be finding out soon enough.'

A few turns and doorways later Ms.Zander brought Matt into a fairly small room, not much more than 20' x 20'. The room had another door on the opposite side from the one they'd entered, what looked to be a phone hanging on the wall, but the dominant feature was a strange, bench-like contraption at center stage. Ms.Zander led Matt to it and then turned to face him with a flourish.

'Now, my handsome meatboy, this would be the end of the line for you, well, prior to the barbeque pit anyways. Certainly you won't be going any further along the process than this, unless you'd be willing to sign some wavers?' she leered.

'No thanks,' Matt tried to reflect his levity. 'I think I prefer being a tourist.'

'Oh well. In any case, this,' Ms. Zander said with a wave of her hand, 'is the Zander 4000, the latest in our line of live spitting stations here at Zander's Fatted Longpigs. A grade A quality meatboy like yourself would be strapped in and, with a flick of a switch, the machine takes care of the rest.'

'And this thing spits them alive? Alive as in they are still alive by the time they are put on the cook?'

'Of course. We do have a small failure rate. Live spitting used to be an art, but now we have it honed to a science. Almost anyways.'

'Why do you spit them alive?'

Ms.Zander smiled evilly. 'Because it's fun, you foolish meatboy. Not for the roaster, of course, but it is a lot of fun for the guests. I quite enjoy seeing a big, strong bull like yourself wriggling and struggling on the spit. Trussed, impaled, trapped from the inside out, utterly helpless, but every muscle straining and quivering with exertion, desperately trying to escape the heat. It's useless by that point of course, but they fight with every ounce of strength and endurance they have. Depending on how we position him over the coals, a good healthy meatboy can last nearly an hour. Such dramas are quite … stimulating.'

'How's it work?'

Ms. Zander's smile grew to shark-like proportions. 'I thought you'd never ask.' With a sharp tug on the nose ring chain Ms.Zander deftly maneuvered Matt over the machine, leaving him standing with one leg on either side of it.

'Hey! Ow! Just a minute! What are you doing?'

'You did ask how the Zander 4000 worked didn't you?' she said, grinning maniacally.

'You can just tell me, okay! You don't have to show me!'

'What fun is that?'

'Look, I think we're done here okay? I'd like to get dressed and go.'

'Look at you!' Ms.Zander laughed. 'You're scared, aren't you? What do you think is going to happen? That I'm going to spit you, roast you and serving you at some dinner party?'

'Well, I…'

'Have you been disenfranchised? Have you been noticed of your loss of citizenship?'

'Well, no, but…'

'And your editor and other people at the newspaper know you are here, right?'

'Yes, yes they do.'

'So what is it exactly that you are so afraid of?'

Matt's mind struggled to regroup. Ms.Zander was right. There was no reason to be afraid. He wasn't a meatboy. He was a reporter. That dash of panic was just his mind playing tricks on him. 'Nothing, I guess. Alright, show me how this contraption works.'

With a feral grin Ms.Zander arranged Matt on the Zander 4000. She had him kneel down and then lean forward, his hands still cuffed behind his back, until his chest was settled on a sort of short bench. A stock-like manacle held his neck in place and put his chin up on a contoured pad that tipped his head back as far as it would go. A strap was even wrapped around his forehead to keep him from tipping his head forward. Then Ms.Zander used a set of manual hand cranks to align him and adjust the height.

'We have to get the meatboy perfectly lined up for the spit,' she explained. 'It needs to go through with a minimum of damage. That means in his ass, through his colon, through the stomach, up the windpipe and out the mouth. Done properly there should only be two punctures in the GI track. So that means no wriggling around for you.'

A heavy metal bar was locked down just behind Matt's knees and a leather strap was tightened down over his back, pinning his shoulders to the padded bench. Two steel brackets were clipped into the floor to hold his ankles in place, one on either side of the main apparatus of the Zander 4000. Set like that, Matt couldn't help but feel like a party favor in a bathhouse, his ass open and poised, unable to turn his head one way or the other, his cock and balls dangling below him.

Behind him, between his legs really, crouched the real workings of the Zander 4000, a long box about two feet wide by three feet tall and set flush against the wall. Set dead center of the box facing Matt's ass was an ominous round hole about four inches in diameter.

'Comfy?' Ms.Zander asked brightly as she plopped herself down in front of Matt on the padded bench. Straddling the bench like this brought her obviously swollen and flushed vagina uncomfortably close to Matt's nose.

'Comfortable enough. So? Now that you have your grade A meatboy strapped in and aligned, what's next?'

'Next,' Ms.Zander leared, 'we'd clean you out. We'd work the spit into your ass about ten inches or so and then through it we'd pump you full of a solution to clean out your GI tract from the stomach south. For a live spitting we don't gut our meatboys. They rarely survive the experience, at least not without the assistance of a truly skilled surgeon. Instead we'd clean you inside and out, then, once that was done, the machine, using a kind of x-ray technology and medical scanning software, will slowly spit you alive.' Ms.Zander let a single fingertip land like a feather at the top of the crack of Matt's ass. 'The spit will be pressed in until it pierces your colon. It's equipped with a heating element to cauterize as it pierces so you won't bleed. Then it will be maneuvered upwards between your more delicate inner workings until it reaches your stomach.' As she spoke, the finger slowly traveled up along Matt's spine, growing closer and closer to the back of his head. 'After it pops its way into your stomach, then it will be inched up your esophagus, over your voice box and ultimately out your mouth. With any luck you wouldn't chip a tooth.'

Matt could feel the sweat beading up on his forehead. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. 'With my windpipe blocked wouldn't I choke to death?'

'Not at all,' Ms.Zander said as she let her fingers play through the curls atop Matt's head. 'The spit is hollow and perforated so you could draw air in through it. This is particularly important for keeping you alive over the fire. The air you draw into your lungs would be sucked in from either end of the spit. It takes some effort, kind of like using a really long snorkel, but that air will be much cooler that the superheated air caressing your meat. Not to mention it will be free from all that unbreathable hickory wood smoke which will lend such marvelous flavors to your flesh.'

'Okay, I think I get the picture. Can I get up now, please?'
'But why? I just got you strapped in and now you want up again?'

'This is feeling a bit more uncomfortable now.'

'Indeed? Maybe this will help you relax?' Ms.Zander's hands roamed over Matt's sore shoulders, the muscles knotted from the hours spent with his wrists so closely bound. Her strong fingers ground themselves into the muscles, causing Matt to groan aloud.

'Ahh! That does feel good, but, I'd still prefer it if I could get up now.'

'You don't want to get up now,' she soothed. 'Because if you did, you'd miss all this…' From some unseen container, Ms.Zander poured a stream of warm, slippery liquid across Matt's lower back. Her hands worked the slippery oil in circles around Matt's ass and hips.

'What are you doing?' Matt gasped. The sensation of Ms.Zander's slippery hands on his smooth skin was already answering that question for him. Ms.Zander's nimble hands were coaxing Matt's cock into a rock hard erection, and as his blood rushed south to engorge his member, important things like his brain were going to have to do without for a while. All across Matt's body he could feel the blood rushing to his skin, like a slowly creeping blush that started at his face and slowly marched south.

'I'm giving you the full A meatboy experience,' Ms.Zander whispered huskily. 'Most of them seem to really enjoy this part.' Her slippery fingers dipped down into the crack of Matt's ass. As the feather light fingertips played across Matt's tender, puckered hole, each contact released a gasp or a sigh of pleasure.

'Ms. Zander! Aaaaaaah! Let me out of this thing, please. Oooooh Jesus! You're driving me crazy!'

'You like that?' Ms.Zander cooed in his ear. 'Then you'll love this!' A slender finger began to wriggle its way inside Matt's tight little hole. The effect was instantaneous. Matt arched his back and bucked and wriggled in the restraints. But, locked in as he was, neck and knees all but immobile, all he could really do is let his muscles pull and stretch and heave against the intrusion.

'Omigod!' Matt breathed. 'Omigod! You- you're… oh jesus…'

'Yesssss. Yes I am… I'm fucking your ass with my fingers.' Her hot breath felt like boiling steam against Matt's neck as her index finger orbited around and around inside Matt in a slow circle. 'And you're loving it, aren't you? Come on, you love it. Say it! Tell me how much you love having your tight little hole fucked! Of course, if I'm wrong, if you don't love it, I'll stop! I'll pull this finger out, toss you your clothes and point you at the door.'

'No! ugh! Don't stop! I love it! I love you fucking my tight little hole!' Matt could scarcely believe the words that were racing from his lips. As frightening as it might have been to have this woman reach inside him and plunder him, the thing that frightened him worst was the idea that she might stop.

'Goooood. That's my good little meatboy… or maybe I should call you my meatslut? Would you like that? Meatslut?' Zander's free hand glided down over Matt's ribs and traced nonsensical patterns in the downy hairs on his belly. The slithering finger dancing over Matt's prostate was joined by a second. 'Yess, you are a big wanton meatslut, aren't you?'

'Do- do you treat all you're live roasters like this?' Matt gasped, trying to avoid Ms.Zander's question.

'Only the handsome ones,' Ms. Zander laughed as her fingers traced slow circles through the thick bush around Matt's cock and balls. 'Only the ones I suspect are really meatsluts. You know what a meatslut is, don't you?'

Matt couldn't shake his head in the stocks, so he quickly gasped 'No!'

'A meatslut is one who was born to ride the spit. One who craves to feel that big, thick, long spit sliding into their ass. That's what I think you are! A big succulent meatslut.' As she pushed a third finger inside Matt's ass, Ms.Zander reached up and gave Matt's balls a hard squeeze with her still slippery hand. She squeezed so hard that his balls 'popped' out from her grip and sloshed around his sack.

'Auuuugh!' Matt groaned. 'Please! Not so hard!'

'I won't hurt you, you stupid meatslut. I think I know more than you about handling male anatomy? Don't you? How many big fat ball sacks have you handled?'

'Just my own,' he said.

'So don't you worry,' Ms.Zander purred as she slowly began squeezing Matt's balls. 'I've handled thousands, in my professional capacity, of course. I won't do anything to damage you.' She squeezed Matt's balls, harder and harder. Matt grit his teeth as sweat ran down his furrowed brow. At last Ms.Zander forced a cry of pain out form between Matt's lips. Perhaps that's what Ms. Zander wanted because as soon as that shuddering cry escaped his lips, Ms. Zander released him. 'See? Not a bruise on you.'

Ms.Zander stood for a moment and began to fiddle with the controls on the side of the Zander 4000. A click and a beep were followed by an ominous whirring sound.

'Oh my god! What are you doing?' Matt nearly shrieked in terror.

'I'm getting the spit lined up, what does it sound like you stupid meatslut?'

'You can't be serious!' Matt pulled with every muscle in his body. Nothing shifted a millimeter.

'Don't I sound serious? Maybe you don't believe me because you can't see the spit? It's coming for you meatslut. It's coming right for your sweet ass. Oh! I think it likes you! Maybe it just wants to be friends?'

'Jesus Christ! You can't do this!' Matt screamed. 'Please! What did I do to you?'

'You asked for this, didn't you?' Ms. Zander laughed. 'Didn't you want to get the meats' perspective?'

'Yes, but not spitted alive! Please! Please don't spit me!'

'Well who said anything about spitting you?' Ms.Zander stood and walked behind Matt where he couldn't see her.

Matt's veins were clogged with adrenaline. Sweat was pouring off every inch of his skin. 'Whuh?' he boggled.

'I said, 'Who said anything about spitting you?''

'B-buh, but you said…'

'I said nothing of the kind,' she corrected him. 'On the other hand, maybe that rush of adrenaline will truly give you the perspective you wanted, eh? No, my stupid meatslut, I am not going to spit you. I am, however, going to fuck you.'

'What?'

'Don't act so surprised. You didn't think you were going to get up off that thing without having your ass fucked?' With that Ms. Zander stepped back in front of Matt.

'Oh my god!' Matt gasped. Ms. Zander had stripped herself out of her clothes. She stood as naked as her captive meatboy, She was gorgeous..large breasts, dark flawless tanned skin....a true amazon in the flesh. but Matts attention was immediately drawn to her between her legs. She also was equipped with.....with...a cock! She had a cock! Matt's jaw dropped in amazement. He had heard rumors that women were getting surgery to extend their clitoris into the shape and size of a man's penis, but he thought they were just rumors! 'You like?' she quipped. 'Surprised? come now, all the girls are doing it. I still have a nice pussy to fuck, I've simply enhanced my clit, for pleasure. She began stroking her appendage slowly and Matt watched it engorge and harden. She was bigger than he was! Then she started to slowly walk toward him again. 'What are you doing?'

'I told you your editor and I go way back, Ms. Zander laughed. 'She speaks very highly of you, not as a reporter mind you, but as her favorite office fucktoy. You know, if it weren't for your skills at pussy eating and that sweet hole of yours, you would never have lasted as long on her staff as you have.

Matt's mouth flopped open and stayed there, moving weakly. He couldn't believe it, but it was the only thing that made sense. His editor had pimped him out. Shared him with an old girlfriend like she was passing her the unfinished portion of mashed potatoes. His face burned, even as he blinked a drop of sweat from his eyes. 'Michelle sent me to you… to be your fucktoy?'

'Well now, look at that,' Ms. Zander smirked. 'It's trying to think. Yes! Of course she did! Why you couldn't see this coming a mile away is beyond me. Some reporter you are! You know, she's getting one of 'these' as well' she said waving her hardening penis in his face. Think you can handle both of us, meatslut'?

'She's been bragging on you for months and last week I finally put my foot down and demanded a slice for myself. I must say I am not disappointed so far. You've got me worked up, you big manly bull! But you've got your work cut out for you. I've quite an appetite now, and if you leave here without thoroughly sating me, you might as well go straight home and open the want ads, because there won't be a job waiting for you back at the paper. We lodge sisters have to stick together, you know?'

Matt was trapped. If he failed to please Ms.Zander, Michelle might fire him out of some kind of solidarity, or even to show her lodge-sister how little Matt meant to her. But if he gave Ms.Zander the ride of her life then Michelle might still fire her out of some spark of jealousy. If he lost his job it wouldn't be long before he began running up debts, then he might find himself back here, under less pleasant circumstances. Well, he was sure that things would go worse for him if Ms.Zander was unhappy with him so Matt licked his lips, tried to give her his best 'hungry' look and growled 'You let me up from this thing and I'll show you just what kind of a bull you've got on your hands.'

'Oh I don't think so. I like you just the way you are. Besides we're not through with your meatboy experience yet. After I loosen up that tight ass of yours I'm going to ease about 10 to 12 inches of spit up that sweet ass of yours. Then I'm going to go ahead and activate the automatic irrigation system to clean you out. It'll probably need to flood and rinse you three or four times before you'd be clean enough to roast. That way you will have experienced everything a grade A live roaster would here at Zander Fine Meat. Short of the actual spitting and roasting of course. And once that's done, I'll unstrap you. But first…'

Ms.Zander moved around behind Matt, walking slowly. Ms. Zander knew she had the big red headed bull worked up into a frenzy, and she was enjoying making her captive wait for her ravishment.

'A good man is hard to find,' Ms.Zander mused. 'And hard to pass up.' Kneeling down Ms.Zander pushed her cock between Matt's quivering ass-cheeks. The fat head of her cock pressing deeply into Matt's puckered anus.

'Please! Please!' Matt moaned. Not that, please not in the ass!'

Matt cried out as Ms.Zander popped her cock in and shoved it in to the roots with one thrust. 'There you go, meatslut!' Ms. Zander growled. 'That what you need?'

'Oh god no! No!' Matt moaned in embarressment.

Ms.Zander rode Matt like a bronco buster. In and out, she ground her cock into the swampy insides of Matt's ass, squeezed tightly by his puckered ass. She worked her cock deeper and deeper, grinding the flared head hard against Matt's prostate. Ms. Zander threw herself forward even as she continued to pump, and sank her teeth into Matt's back muscles. Matt howled and moaned. Holding the soft skin between her teeth, Ms.Zander grunted and groaned around the mouthful of flesh. Flesh she would very soon be able to bite off by the mouthful.

As Ms.Zander released her toothy grip on his meat, she sat up and admired her handy work. A livid purple mark glared back from where her mouth had locked onto Matt. 'You bruise like a grape!' Ms. Zander gasped as she began to increase the tempo of her strokes again. 'Oh yes… I knew you were a good one. From the moment I laid- ahhh! eyes on you, I knew you were going to be good. God, I wish I could roast your meaty ass. They'd line up around the block for a slice off your tender ass. Fuck! I wouldn't even have anything left to make soup with.'

'Oh god,' Matt groaned and panted. 'You want to eat me?'

'You know it you fat little piggie!' Ms. Zander growled. 'I'd love to get you on a spit for real.'

The effect of her words on Matt was electric. Each one sent a pulse of energy through his cock. Each thrust of Ms. Zander's cock felt like it was stroking Matt's from the inside out, but he knew that as humiliating as it was it felt great as his ass adjusted to accomodate the fat intruder. As she worked him the intensity increased to a cresendo and he knew he was nirvana and really began to understand her domination of him. However, when Ms. Zander talked of eating him, getting him on a spit, Matt felt as if he was going to shoot his load.

'Oh yes! Look at all that fine, tender meat,' Ms. Zander whispered. 'So soft and tender and so fucking firm and strong.'

Matt groaned as a terrible fear rose in him.

'Oh, my big meaty boy… you've got the sweetest ass…I'd eat it myself, along with your big fat balls.'

He was going to cum. Ms.Zander was going to make him cum the biggest wettest orgasm of his life, skewered on her cock, like a suckling pig on a spit.

'And a nice thick steak carved from your meaty ass.'

And the part that was going to send him over the top was her lust filled descriptions of how delicious he would be.

'All plump and brown and dripping with juice…'

Her words were spurring his orgasm on like a wagon driver cracking a whip over the shoulders of a team of oxen.

'Such a fine meaty bull! I wish I could have entered you in the country fair. You are a blue ribbon winner if ever I saw one…'

Matt closed his eyes and tried to think about something else. Tried to deny what was happening.

'Come on you big beefy bull. Squeeze my cock with your tight ass!'

If he came, if she made him cum like this, then he really was a meatslut.

'Milk my cock!'

Then this really was where his whole life was leading him.

'Suck my cock dry with your thirsty ass!'

If Ms. Zander made him cum like this, then he belonged on a spit.

'Show me how much you want to be my dinner!'

Matt came, just like the big meaty bull that he was. As his hot cum shot hard all over the Zander 4000. Matt howled in climax, his trembling ass milking Ms.Zander's cock for everything it had. Every inch of him trembled and shook with the intensity of it.

With a growl and a sudden burst of speed, Ms.Zander pounded Matt's ass savagely. Grinding her fingertips into Matt's ass and roaring like a beast, Ms.Zander emptied herself into Matt.

Panting, Ms. Zander checked her watch. 'Impeccable timing my big juicy meatslut.' She slowly dismounted Matt, sighing gently as she slid her hard cock out of Matt's ass. 'Damn. Felt like I pumped a gallon into you. And look at your load. You would have done great at an industrial milking plant.' Moving back around to Matt's side Ms. Zander knelt down next to his upturned ass and taking up the plastic squeeze bottle of oil began to lube up the four-inch diameter stainless steel spit. 'Now just give me a few seconds to lube this up and I'll get it lined up with your ass, okay?'

'Okay,' Matt answered meekly. The day had been one exhausting humiliation after another and all his strength felt drained. Now he was going to have this terrible machine bugger him and give him some kind of super powered enema! At least this was the end of it. The final humiliation to be heaped atop his already badly bruised ego.

Matt could only hear the hum of the machinery as the spit emerging from that ominous hole in the device inched forward towards his quivering ass. Ms.Zander adjusted and readjusted the angle as it held its position just centimeters from his puckered opening.

'All ready back here. Are you ready?'

'Would it make any difference if I said 'no?''

'No. Not really. The real meatboys don't get a choice, why should you? Now hold still. We don't want to hurt you.' With a flip of switch the tiny tip of the shiny steel spit began to press itself into Matt's clenched hole.

'Come on! Relax a little here. If you clench up it'll just hurt,' she goaded.

'You try relaxing like this,' he barked petulantly.

'You were certainly relaxed enough when I was fucking you and calling you my little meatslut. Hmmmm? Maybe a little meatslut treatment is just what you need?' With one hand guiding the spit, she dropped her other between Matt's legs and caressed his dangling balls and swaying cock with her teasing fingertips. Matt's cock leapt immediately at her touch and he groaned aloud. 'Yesss… there you go. You like that don't you? Yesss you do.' Ms. Zander's palm closed around the thick slippery shaft and, with a painful slowness, began pumping it up and down. Milking it. Up and down. Matt groaned aloud with every stroke.

Meanwhile, the spit entered his well-lubed ass inexorably, one inch after another was slowly swallowed by his hungry hole. As more of the tapered tip slid in, it stretched his ass wider and wider. More delirious moans and groans dripped from Matt's lips as it inched forward. Finally the full tip was in, the spit spreading him open to its full girth, and still more of it sank into him.

Matt lost track of everything. Time, place and person meant nothing to him. All that remained was the deliciously full feeling spreading through his insides, and the fiery feather-soft touch of Ms. Zander's palm encircling his cock.

'Yesss… there you go my sweet little meatslut. All in. You took that sooo easily. I'll bet you wish there was more, don't you? Well, I'm afraid that's all you get, you greedy hog. Can't take the risk of puncturing anything in there. But if you like having your ass stuffed, you're going to love this!' Ms. Zander released Matt's cock and rose to her feet. A few switches were flipped on the Zander 4000 and Matt was suddenly jarred by the sensation of hot fluid rushing into his bowels.

'Ugh!' he grunted. 'What is that?'

'How soon they forget,' she mused. 'That's the cleansing solution. The head of the spit is quite the marvel, you know. It's hollow and has openings so that it can pump you full of fluid and suck you dry again. Based on your size you should be getting a couple of gallons…'

'Gallons?' Matt gasped. 'I can't hold gallons!'

'Of course you can. Your intestines are quite flexible you know, and they can expand remarkably. Believe me, I've stuffed enough sausage skins to know what a man's guts can and cannot do.'

Matt groaned under the creeping pressure inside his belly. The warmth of the fluid was working its way through him, heating him from the inside out. Beads of sweat blossomed out in earnest across his back and chest. The pressure continued to grow and grow. It quickly grew from discomfort to something like the worst stomachache he'd ever had. If he could have looked down he would have seen his pale, furry belly expanding, hanging lower with the weigh of the solution. Matt groaned and moaned and wriggled in his bonds. He prayed it was just his imagination, but he would have sworn that he could feel the liquid sloshing inside him, like he was a beer keg being filled.

'Oh god!' he moaned. 'Is it done yet? Please! I cannot take any more! You're going to rupture my guts! Please!'

'Oh you big baby,' Ms.Zander laughed as she patted Matt hard on his belly. Matt grunted in pain as he genuinely felt his guts sloshing. 'You need at least another gallon.'

'No!' he pleaded. 'Please! I'll burst! I can feel it! I'm going to fucking explode! Please turn it off! Please!'

Ms.Zander ran her palm over Matt's now slightly distended belly. 'Yes, you're nice and full now, aren't you? Definitely a stuffed thanksgiving turkey.'

'You like stuffing me?' he tried to ask calmly through gritted teeth as she gave his belly a firm patting.

'Not like this, meatslut,' she whispered. 'If I was really going to stuff you I'd use my cock, or maybe a nice cornbread stuffing with garlic and manbeef sausage mixed in? Would you like that?'

'I think I'd prefer your cock,' Matt grunted.

'I would expect so. You're ass practically gobbled it. Yes, you are definitely a big hungry meatslut. But let's get you cleaned out and off that machine shall we?'

'Yes, please.' Matt hoped the relief in his voice was not as obvious sounding as it was to him.

Ms. Zander fiddled with the controls and Matt was overwhelmed with a sensation of relief the likes of which he had never before felt. The machine reversed itself and deftly drained him dry in just a minute or so. The pressure gone, Matt almost sobbed his gratitude. 'Oh god, thank you so much. That's so much better. I feel like…'

His gratitude was cut off by another rush of warm water flooding his insides.

'Oh no! Come on!'
'I told you you'd get three or four just like that one, didn't I? It gets easier with each irrigation, your tripe expands to accommodate all the extra volume.'

'There's no point to this,' Matt croaked. 'If you're not going to cook me then I don't have to be clean. I got it, okay. You wanted to treat me like meat and you have. Now you can let me up.'

'Oh you don't get off that easy.' Then she reverted to her humid whisper. 'Don't you worry, my plump, tasty meatslut. I'll give you something to keep your mind off your troubles.' Ms. Zander sat down atop the bench Matt's head was strapped to, straddling it, her legs thrown wide. Her fat cock head was only the width of a hair from Matt's nose. Uncovered and so close, Matt felt as if the scent of her cock, still wet with cum and lube, was making him dizzy, as if his cock was bathed in ether.

'Why don't you show me what you've been doing to Michelle's pussy for the last six months?' She breathed down at him. 'You've got a hell of a reputation to live up to. Oh, and call me Mistress'.

The scent and sight of Mistress Zander's cock made Matt feel genuinely drunk. Opening his mouth the found that his lips couldn't quick reach her no matter how much he strained. Extending his tongue to its farthest reach only allowed him to touch the tip of his tongue to Mistress Zander's glistening head. Even so, the shock that ran through Matt's tongue and into his brain felt like a jolt from a live wire. He redoubled his efforts to get his mouth around Mistresses cock and got absolutely nowhere. However it did get a chuckle from her.

'You get an A for effort, Meatslut, but why don't I give you a little help.' With that she grabbed the back of Matt's neck with both hands, and pushed her cock deep into Matt's mouth.

Mistress Zander interlaced her fingers through Matt's hair and twisted and pulled as she ground her erect cock into the back of Matt's throat. Shifting her weight off her ass and onto her heels, she rocked her hips up and down and back and forth, grinding her cock into every crevice of Matt's mouth and throat. She moaned and sighed as Matt's lithe tongue slithered across her delicate and sensitive shaft. Looking down she smiled to see her newly minted meatslut completely lost in sucking her cock. Confident that his attention was firmly fixed, she quickly checked her watch. Just after one thirty… plenty of time. Getting a good grip on either side of Matt's head, Mistress Zander leaned her shoulders back, pushing her cock deeper and harder, enjoying the desperate attention she was receiving.

Matt strained to catch his breath as he gobbled, licked, and sucked at his Mistresses drooling cock. He strained in his stocks to get his mouth further down her fat shaft. After what felt like forever, Mistress Zander finally shifted her position and her cock began to slide in and out with a delicious rythm. Matt was impressed at the size of it. Mistress grunted with pleasure and threw her head back and she bucked against Matt's mouth. Despite her frantic thrusts, Matt never let go of her cock, even when she cried out and gushed hot juice down his throat as she shuddered through her first of many orgasms.

'Oooooh yes! Yes, my big beefy meatslut,' Mistress Zander laughed as she pumped the last of her load down Matt's throat. 'You are good. Now let's see what your endurance is like.' Twisting her fingers tighter she pumped her cock with renewed vigor, making sure that her erection did no flag despite her ejaculation. Looking down Matt's long body, she admired the muscles twisting and turning under Matt's pale, smooth skin. The corded muscles wriggled up his arms, his shoulders, and back. His hips undulated ever so slightly, trying to squeeze a little in and out motion from the spit that was neatly bisecting his two meaty hams. Mistress Zander smiled. 'Yessssss… fuck that big fat spit you delicious meatslut. Let's see you give that shiny steel cock a nice ride.'

Checking the indicator lights on the Zander 4000, she growled in her sexiest voice. 'Can you feel that gushing inside you?' His mouth stuffed full of cock, Matt could only grunt in the affirmative. 'That's my big steel cock cumming. Your sweet ass is making my big steel cock cum. Filling you up with all of my nice warm jizz.' She could see Matt's ass trying to pump the spit even more frantically. 'Yes, you love feeling your ass getting pumped nice and full… don't you meatslut?' As close as she was to her orgasm, she needed to hear Matt's voice, hear him bending to her will. She pulled her spit-shined cock out of Matt's mouth with a 'pop!'

'I said, you love getting your ass pumped, don't you meatslut?'

'Yes!' Matt gasped. 'Yes, I love it! I love getting my ass pumped Mistress!'

'Is that all?' Mistress Zander prodded, her shiny cock held just out of reach.

'No, no,' Matt panted, obviously stalling. 'No, I love your cock. I've never tasted anything like it. I can't get enough of it. Please, let me suck you!'

'Uh-huh, that's all very flattering, but isn't there something else you'd like to tell me, hmmmm?' She circled her hips, making her cock wave back and fourth like some kind of pornographic metronome.

Matt's eyes flicked back and forth, searching frantically for an answer. Then it came to him, but it wasn't easy to say. 'P-please… please let your meatslut suck your cock.'

'Oh,' she teased. 'So, you're my meatslut now, are you?'

'Yes,' Matt breathed. 'I'm your meatslut.'

'Yes, and what does one do with a meatslut? Hmmmmm?'

Quivering Matt found the words. 'You fuck them and then you roast them and then you eat them Mistress.'

'Yes you do… yes you do,' she murmured. 'Now here's your reward for being such a good meatslut.' She shoved her cock back in Matt's mouth and began pumping her hips hard and fast. Matt feasted upon her flesh like a ravenous beast and it wasn't long before another orgasm shuddered through Mistress Zander's flesh.

As she panted, coming down from the peak of her climax, she looked over Matt's upturned ass to check the readout on the Zander 4000. The machine had just finished the second irrigation, but the color of the solution in the lines showed that he could stand another flush.

When she looked at her watch again she gasped. It was two ten! She'd had no idea that she'd been riding Matt's face for so long. She walked around to check the readout on the Zander 4000. The machine had washed out Matt five times. The water being sucked out of him was running as clear as tap water.

'We've let this wash you far too long.'

'Is… is that a problem?' Matt panted. 'Is there any damage?'

'Oh, there's no problem. We just used up some of our time. Fortunately I was sure to budget an extra thirty minutes. We just have to move along to the next stage.'

'Oh good. My muscles are really starting to cramp in this thing.'

Mistress Zander quickly set the controls on the Zander 4000 and then turned and walked along Matt's long form, trailing her fingertips from Matt's obscenely stretched ass up to his sweat soaked hair. 'I bet you're anxious to get back to the newspaper, start writing your story?'

'I wouldn't say that,' Matt leered up at her. 'What I can't wait to do is get up off this machine and get my ass pounded raw by that big cock of yours Mistress.'

'Oh? Your ass needs some more, does it?'

'Yes! Yes! I need it so bad. I need to be fucked!'

She chuckled low and chesty. 'Don't worry. You are.'

Matt's eyes showed a touch of concern. 'What do you mean?'

'You know, meatslut, you really should read a document carefully before you sign it.'

'What are you talking about? I didn't sign anything.'

'No, no you didn't. Not today. I'm talking about your employment contract at the newspaper. Oh what do you know? Here's a copy of it right here.' Mistress Zander pulled a folded paper document from one of the pockets of her crumpled smock like a stage magician producing a rabbit out of a hat. She flipped about a dozen pages, studying the document with an overplayed intensity. 'Here we are!' she announced jauntily. 'Section 17, sub-section five, paragraph nine: Employee Surrender of Enfranchisement.' Then she began to read in her best faux-lawyer voice. ''The undersigned employee of the Daily Register does hereby and voluntarily surrender their enfranchisement as a citizen and a human being to the Daily Register, to dispose of as the corporation sees fit.' Huh? You know, I'm not attorney, but I'm pretty sure that means when you signed your employment contract you also sold yourself to the newspaper. That wasn't very smart, now was it?'

Matt chuckled nervously. 'I don't believe you'.

Mistress Zander just held the contract up in front of Matt's immobilized head. Then flipped to the appropriate page, pointing out the passage with her index finger. Then with a final flip she turned to the last page. 'Is that your signature there?'

Matt swallowed and found his mouth suddenly bone dry. 'That… that's a fake. You and Michelle cooked this up to scare me.'

'Funny you should say 'cooked,'' She grinned. 'However, despite your denial of your obvious predicament, you are on the right track. Michelle and I did come up with this plan, a long time ago. Every year she hires a new cub reporter, takes him under her wing, keeps a close eye on him, watches what he eats, what he drinks, and then, when the date of her company picnic draws near, she sends him to me… to do a story.'

Matt tried to laugh in her face, or at least her knees, but it caught in his throat. The sweat on his brow turned cold. 'Oh no.'

Mistress Zander's smile uncoiled like a snake. 'Oh yes. And you know what today is, don't you? Today is your annual company picnic. Funny how you were hired just after last year's, isn't it?'

'You're playing with me,' Matt hissed defiantly. 'You're just pulling my chain.'

'I've been pulling your chain all day. This is the first time I've been honest with you. Well, that's not exactly true either. I was being completely honest with you when I told you that you were an A quality live roaster… as you are about to discover.'

'Bullshit!' Matt spat.

Mistress Zander just laughed sexily. 'Yes. Bull shit. You're the bull and by this time tomorrow you'll be nothing but-

'No! NO! NOOOOOOOO!!' Matt heaved against his restraints again. He shouted! Howled! He hurled angry curses and blasphemies. It went on for a couple of minutes before he finally sagged in the restraints.

'And I thought I tired you out!' Zander laughed taking a position by the machine's control board. 'Glad to see you still have a little life left in you.' Looking underneath him at his dangling balls and still rock hard cock she clucked her tongue at him. 'Methinks he doth protest too much. Your lips say no, no, no, but your cock says yes, yes, yes.'

'No! No! Please!' he blubbered. 'Please don't do this! There's no reason to do this!'

'No reason? But there's every reason to do this. Look at you, all meaty and ripe and succulent. Your ass is just begging for more of that spit. Besides, the guests are going to be arriving soon and there's no one else to cook.'

'This is a meat packing plant. There's hundred of men here,' Matt babbled nearly hysterical. 'Take one of them instead.'

'Well, you do have me there. There are hundreds of meatboys here, but everyone's expecting you. The whole staff at the paper has been looking forward to this day for nearly a year. You wouldn't want to disappoint them, would you?'

Matt shattered mind spun this way and that, trying to find something to say, something that would get him up off this machine. 'The whole staff? You mean they all know?'

'They've known all along. From the day you were hired. In fact, Michelle tells me that actually voted for you over several other prospective candidates.'

'This can't be happening,' Matt mumbled. 'I've done nothing wrong. I've paid my bills. I've obeyed the law. What did I do to deserve this?'

'You walked around looking like that, my big delicious bull. It was inevitable that some woman would find a way to get you on her dinner table. I'm just glad I got to you first. A fine hunk of meat like you deserves the best.'

'But why did you go through all that business about assuring me that nothing would happen to me? Once you had me strapped in to your spitting machine there was no reason to keep lying to me. Why? Why?'

'Well, for one thing foolish meatslut,' She leaned close and gave Matt a firm bite on his earlobe. 'I like a little sauce with my meat. Besides…' She moved around and gave a cobra quick lick across his lips and mustache, tasting his strong flavor on her full lips '…I wasn't sure you'd be as enthusiastic about sucking my cock if you knew I was going to be eating yours in a few hours.'

Matt tried to lunge at her and snapped his teeth at her lips. Strapped in as he was he never came close. Mistress Zander returned to the controls laughing.

'I- I'm sorry about that!' Matt's voice quavered. 'I panicked. I didn't mean it.'

'That's okay,' she said as she flipped the safety cover off the 'ENGAGE' button. Her finger hovered over it. 'I know you didn't mean it. Just like I don't mean this.' Her finger stabbed the button.

There was a sound like a pneumatic press and the spit began inching into Matt's quivering ass.

'Nooooooooo! Pleeeeease!' he wailed. 'Please! I'll do anything! I'll give you anything you ask for!'

'Don't be such a big baby about this. It's not like I'm being mean and feeding you to my lions, that would be mean and cruel'. She gave Matt's meaty ass cheek a resounding slap. 'You act like you're the only meatslut ever to get spitted.'

Then Matt screamed inarticulately. Every muscled strained ferociously against the bonds. As his bestial roar reached a crescendo, as every muscle was bulging at its maximum flex, he flopped limp and silent, hanging in his restraints like a stringless puppet.

Mistress Zander clucked her tongue again and shook her head with obvious disappointment. She quickly went to the shower and cranked the cold-water knob, filling a large glass to the brim. Returning she hurled the ice cold water into Matt's face and he woke up sputtering. 'Rise and shine, Mr. Johnson. You wouldn't want to miss your spitting. Otherwise how are you going to get the meat's perspective for your story?'

Matt rolled his eyes up to meet hers. 'Why?' he moaned weakly. 'Why couldn't you let me stay unconscious?'

'Still the reporter bursting with questions, eh? It's like I said before. It's so much less fun if you don't put up a fight. I like my meat to have a little spirit.'

'Please, it's not too late. You can let me up. I could go to a hospital…'

'That's a very good idea, but how exactly does that further my goal of having a tummy stuffed to bursting with your roasted meat?'

Matt's answer, if he had one was lost in a groan of pain. 'Oh god! I can feel it moving. It's moving through my guts.'

'It sure is, about an inch every five seconds. It should be hitting your stomach any time now. Hope you saved some of that lungpower for that one. It should be quite memorable.'

'This can't be happening,' Matt whispered horsely. 'You can't turn me into meat.'

'I am not turning you into meat. You always were meat… meatslut!'

'I am not meat…I'm a reporter… a writer… I'm writing a novel…'

'Well, I don't mean to be cruel here, but I've read your copy. You're really not much of a reporter. I mean, you didn't see this coming, did you? How good an investigative reporter could you be if you couldn't see what was going on all around you? No, you are definitely better suited to be meat. It's like the 'Peter Principal,' you know? Everyone rises to their level of incompetence. Well this is your level of competence. This is what you are best at. Being big and meaty and delicious. At least take comfort when I tell you that I've seen a lot meat come through here and you are, without doubt, one of the best I've ever seen. So, you're at the top of your field. The very best beef you can be!'

Matt moaned loudly. Groaned and cried as the spit slid deeper and deeper. As it pierced his stomach he sounded as if he was giving birth. All the while his muscles quivered and shook and sweat poured from his skin, coating him in a reflective sheen. Mistress Zander bit her lip and slowly pumped her hardening cock as the huge spit continued its slow course through him.

'Ugh! Oh god! Oh god!' the trapped and dripping bull moaned. 'I feel it… its coming up my throat!'

Mistress Zander leaned in and probed at the base of his throat. 'Yes it is. I want you to know that I've really enjoyed our repartee. I like my meat to have some personality. Any last words?'

Matt's eyes bulged and he swallowed against the slowly rising invasion of his body. 'I… I… I hope you choke, you bitch!' he whispered hoarsely.

She smiled sardonically. 'Awwwww! And here I thought we were getting along so well. But don't you worry,' she whispered leaning close to his face, 'by the time I'm done cooking you, you'll be soft and juicy and falling off the bone. You'll go down nice and smooth.'

Matt opened his mouth, but all that came out was a gag. Then a cough. Then Matt convulsed in a series of coughing sputters. He coughed until he was red-faced. Then his eyes flew open along with his mouth. His tongue lolled out and from between his perfect white teeth, the shiny steel tip of the spit slowly emerged. It inched out of his mouth like an eel from an undersea cave, slowly, taking its own sweet time. For his part, Matt continued to gag around the huge intrusion, or perhaps extrusion was a better term. It continued to grow out of him, like a film of a plant growing in fast forward.

Matt thrashed blindly on the spit, the need for air driving away all other thoughts. She stepped up once the spit extended about a foot past his stretched lips and quickly unscrewed the tip of the spit. Once removed, Matt drew in a huge heaving breath down the hollow spit and into his lungs. His chest heaved and pulled to work the air in and out of his lungs, but his color soon returned.

'There, that's better, isn't it?' Matt could only blink back at her with his sweat and tear brimmed eyes. 'Just lay back and relax for a while. I'm going to let another foot or so of spit slide through you. Then, it'll be time to secure your legs to the spit.' Matt's eyes looked up at her, silently pleading, but she turned away and went back to monitoring the Zander 4000's progress. Matt's eyes shot back and forth, spinning in their sockets. Then he caught a glimpse of the spit slowly creeping from between his lips. He watched in stunned fascination as it crept out to a full two feet past his lips. Then it stopped and he let his teeth slide and bump against the unyielding smoothness of it. With such a huge intrusion in his throat and mouth, the broadly squeezed tip of his tongue popped out between his lower lip and the spit.

This isn't happening, he thought. This isn't happening. I'll wake up. I will. I have to… But there it was… sliding against his teeth, running over his tongue, stretching his lips and his ass. He was spitted. He was meat. The only thing that remained for him was to be roasted alive, carved and eaten!

Mistress Zander stepped between Matt's legs and began to attach the bar for his knees to the spit. It was a 'T' shaped affair, with the base of the T tipped with a bracket to fasten it to the spit. She screwed it in place and deftly tightened the bracket with an Allen wrench. Then she removed the bar holding down Matt's knees and put it aside. Then she unfastened the metal bracket holding Matt's left ankle and lifted it up, bending his knee over the T shaped bar that now hung down from the spit. She deftly affixed the ankle to the spit with some sturdy wire. She quickly repeated the process with the right. Matt's legs hung heavy in her grasp as she lifted and moved them. When she was done, neither of Matt's legs touched the floor.

'That's a good hog,' she said. 'You've had such a hard day. Not to worry. It's just about over.' She unbuckled the strap holding Matt's shoulders down and then undid the strap holding his head up in the neck stock. Flipping the stock open, she walked around to the front of the bench Matt had rested his chest and neck upon and gave it a hard pull. The bench slowly pulled loose from beneath him and Matt was shocked to find that he was utterly suspended from the spit. It bore all his weight, bobbing slightly. There he hung, head arched back to accommodate the spit traveling through the length of his body, his arms now bound in wire, the cuffs tossed aside, his knees slightly bent over the T-shaped bar, ankles lashed to the spit, his still hard cock and low hanging balls dangling in mid-air. He squirmed a bit. His shoulders shrugged back and forth. His hips wiggled weakly. His fingers and toes wriggled. Nothing budged. There was no way to get off this spit. It was his home for the rest of his life.

'My god,' she said breathlessly. 'You look absolutely incredible. You are going to be so popular at this bar-b-cue. Now, here comes the fun part…' She flipped a switch and, with a loud mechanical 'whirr,' the spit turned clockwise, the T-bar assuring that Matt turned with the spit rather than it just rotating inside his body. Matt wriggled uncomfortably as he felt his weight shifting on the steel shaft traversing him. Within seconds Matt was inverted, hanging like a pig on a stick…

That's all I am now, he thought forlornly. Nothing more than a suckling pig to be roasted… I can't believe everyone at the office knew… that when Louis offered me another donut she was trying to fatten me up… that when Belinda offered to help with my work she was imagining me turning brown over the coals…It's not fair…not fair…

Mistress Zander stopped Matt's rotation when he was completely inverted. Hanging like that, Matt presented her with a broad chest, topped with his puffy pink nipples. His processing tag still dangled from his nipple. 'We won't need this anymore,' she said as she clipped the tag off the nipple ring. Slipping her pinkie under the ring, she pulled the puffy nipple away from his chest. Matt's moan crept up the hollow spit, low and drawn out like woodwind instrument. 'This, however, I think we'll keep. It looks quite sexy on you.'

Releasing the nipple, Mistress Zander let her hands wander over Matt's meaty chest and belly, grazing her fingers over his hipbones. She whistled in appreciation as she found Matt's fat cock still standing up from the garden of reddish hair below his bellybutton. 'My, my, my… looks like someone overstuffed this sausage.' Grasping it gently she gave it a couple of slow strokes. A moan drifted up the hollow spit and a transparent drop of sticky pre-cum formed at the tip of Matt's circumcised cock. 'You sure seem to be enjoying yourself for someone who was complaining so much. Maybe you're finally adjusting to your place in the food chain, eh? Or maybe I was right about you being a big beefy meatslut?' Her hand increased the rhythm of its strokes. 'You were born to ride the spit, weren't you? Yesss… your whole life was all about shaping you, forming your tender flesh, and bringing you here so you could be the juiciest, most mouthwatering bar-b-que I have ever served… my gorgeous meatslut.'

Matt moaned in pleasure and in shame. He desperately did not want to feel the pleasure she was drawing out of him. He didn't want to enjoy any of this. He didn't want to revel in his own destruction. But it felt soooo gooood. He moaned and squirmed on the spit, trapped from the inside out, unable to wriggle away, or even speed up the process of his defilement. Then without warning, she released him. He felt a heaving sob form in his chest, but could not decide if it was out of relief or disappointment.

Mistress Zander walked back to the controls and hit the button to activate the spit. It slowly turned in the machine until Matt was returned to his cock-down position. Remarkably, his cock still stood out hard against his belly, the pressure of the spit against his prostate making it impossible for his erection to flag. She leaned close to Matt's face. Her eyes wandered over Matt's stretched lips, watery eyes and furrowed brow. She smiled sweetly. 'By the way,' she whispered, 'Zander is spelled with a 'Z.' Not an 'X' in there. I wouldn't want you to misspell it in your story.' Laughing she gave Matt's plump ass cheek another aggressive slap. 'I can't wait to see how you handle me!'

The door at the far end of the room opened and four workers entered wearing smocks and hard hats. 'Get this beef onto pit number three. And make sure to position his head just over the lip of the pit. I want him to last for a good long while'.

'Yes, Ms. Zander.' Without further ado, the four amazonian women grabbed the spit and slid it out of the Zander 4000. Then with a chorus of grunts they hoisted their delicious burden onto their shoulders and carried him out of the room.

Beyond the doors was a concrete ramp sloping up. The women huffed and puffed as they carried Matt. Every step sent waved of pain through Matt's jaw and hips. Then another set of doors opened in front of him and he was dazzled by the blinding light of the afternoon sun. As he blinked, Matt heard a roar of applause all around him. He opened his eyes to see that he was in a large grass covered picnic area. Dozens of wooden tables were covered with checkered tablecloths, piled high with plates and cornbread, and mashed potatoes. All around him, smiling and applauding as he passed them, were his colleagues from work. Beyond in the distance, just at the edge of the woods, the cage containing Ms. Zanders two lionesses came into view. The male from the meat factory was trussed and waiting just outside the cage, waiting to entertain the ladies at the picnic when they threw him to the cats. Matt was envious at first, then remembered Mistress Zander's bragging of their prowess at eating their prey alive. He couldn't think about that now. His attention returned to his 'colleagues'.

Oh course they had never really been colleagues any more than a farm-raised pig could be considered a partner in the farm. There was Tika from accounting… Betsy from the secretary pool… Joan who did the layout… As he was paraded past them he could hear their sniggering comments.

'Wow! He looks just like a sucking pig!'

'Hey, he is a sucking pig. Squeal for us piggy!'

'I've been waiting for almost a year to get a slice of those meaty hams!'

'Mmmm! And look at those legs! Think I can get a drumstick all to myself?'

'Hah! Greedy girl! Save some for the rest of us.'

'Wow! That's quite a boner he's sporting. How can he keep it up like that?'

'Michelle said he loved taking it up the ass.'

'In that case he must really be having fun now!'

And there by the glowing coals of the BBQ pit, beaming and puffed up with pride, was Michelle Elder, his editor. Mistress Zander moved from out of Matt's perception to go to Michelle's ear where she whispered something that caused Michelle to laugh heartily. Michelle strutted over to the women bearing their still twitching and blinking load and looked Matt right in the eye. 'Hello Matt,' she sang in her Tennessee drawl. 'Judging from your current predicament, I'd have to say you don't have what it takes to be a reporter. Being a mouthwatering dinner, on the other hand, is something you are eminently qualified for. And as your editor,' she said reaching under him to toy with his cock, 'I do get final cut!' She laughed bawdily at her own joke.

'Alright everyone!' Michelle called to the crowd. 'Let's get this piggy on to roast!' The jubilant cheer was thunderous. Matt was quickly born across the picnic area to a low bed of red-hot coals surrounded by a short brick lip. At either end of the pit were poles with several 'V' shaped brackets for holding the spit horizontal over the coals.

'Put him on the lowest one first. I want to singe the hair off him and brown him a little before the first coat of BBQ sauce,' Mistress Zander commanded imperiously.

As soon as the workers carefully lifted their heavy load onto the lowest bracket, Matt's underside was overwhelmed by the waves of heat radiating up from the glowing red coals. The heat reached up like an angry slap on every inch of his skin. His dangling cock and balls stung as if scalded, especially the delicate skin just under the crown of his cock. He jumped and trembled on the spit, struggling to escape the heat that was ravaging him, raping him. He heaved for breath and howled like a wounded beast down the long tube of the spit, grabbing the attention of all the partygoers who laughed and tittered in amusement. He twisted and turned, working every muscle in his tortured body, his fat balls and cock swaying just a foot above the coals. But he could not escape the heat burrowing into his flesh. The heat was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Like nothing he could have imagined. It lent a thick, soupy quality to the air that made him feel like he was submerged in boiling molasses. It caressed him with fiery tendrils from his feet to just below his chin, his neck hanging just over the brick edge of the pit.

As he wriggled and twitched and moaned in the boiling heat, Matt's eyes were affixed at the end of the spit jutting from between his lips. Behind him, just past his flexing toes, Mistress Zander was proceeding with her duties as the master of ceremonies. She screwed a gear wheel into the end of the spit and deftly wrapped a chain around it, which wrapped in turn around a gear wheel on a small motor. With a flip of a switch the motor hummed to life and Matt's world began to rotate.

At first there was some relief as his red, scalded chest and belly turned away from the heat, but then the rest of his skin, on his flanks and back began to howl for mercy. Around and around he turned, bathed in the orange glow of the coals. The party guests gathered close around to watch as he struggled mightily against the spit that held him still, but Mistress Zander kept them back with a few playful stabs of her long handled carving fork so that she would have enough room to work.

It wasn't long before the brutal heat singed his body bare of hair. Once Matt looked like he had been shaved from the neck down, Mistress Zander detached the gear chain from the spit and signaled for her workers to take either end of spit and heft Matt up to the highest bracket on the spit. This deposited Matt about three feet above the coals. His body was as naked as a newborn baby's and his skin was a bright red, as if he had received a bad sunburn. Once locked into his new resting place, Mistress Zander hooked the gear-chain back up again, and once again Matt continued to rotisserate.

Although Matt's body continued to fight against his bonds and the spit in a desperate attempt to get away from the heat, most of fight had gone out of him. As he turned over the coals, he was resigned to his fate. He only wished he could pass out and drift-off without having to hear the jibes and comments of the crowd gathered close around.

'Oh my god! He looked right at me! They really managed to spit him alive.'

'And he can hear everything we say? I wonder what he's thinking?'

'No doubt that he's one fucked little piggy.'

He was fucked. He'd been fucked by his contract. Fucked by his editor. And then Ms. Zander had fucked him, not once but twice. Despite all these betrayals, Matt could not muster any anger anymore. In fact, something deep in his thick meaty chest tugged at him for barking an insult at Ms. Zander before the spit passed over his voicebox. Ms. Zander seem to take it with good humor. Ms Zander stood by Matt's head and ladled cold ice water over his head from a nearby bucket. Matt knew she was just keeping him awake for the guests' entertainment, but he was still grateful for any relief from the heat.

'Alright everyone,' Ms. Zander announced, 'it's time to start putting on the bar-b-cue sauce. Because I am more than a little proud of my sauce, and because I don't want to have to answer this question fifty times, I'd like to take a moment to tell you a little about it. First of all, once you taste this sauce on Matt, you will ask me for the recipe. You will not get it. Bottles are on sale in the Zander Fatted Longpigs gift shop. I will give you a few hints, just to intrigue you.' She held up a heavy bucket laden with a reddish brown sauce. Passing in front of the guests she encouraged them 'Go ahead, stick a finger in and get a taste. You'll note that this is a sweet and spicy sauce. It's flavorful but not too overpowering. After all, you came here to get a taste of Matt, not my sauce. As for ingredients, I use vinegar, tomatoes, garlic, onion, some cayenne and honey and molasses to give it enough body to stick nicely.' Ms. Zander stirred the sauce with a long handled brush. 'I'll be putting on the first couple of coats, but anyone who wants to try basting Matt should form a line right over here.' As the guests lined up, Ms.Zander pulled out a brush thick with sauce and began to generously paint Matt's flesh.

The heat had left Matt dizzy and lost in an almost dream-like, half-wakeful state. As he felt the first cool splash of BBQ sauce on his hip, he almost cried in relief. It felt so wonderful, but there wasn't enough of it. He wanted Mistress Zander to pour it over him, douse him in it. Instead Ms. Zander slowly and painstakingly painted it over his angry skin. Each place the brush touched him was soothing like a cool breeze in the desert.

More! he begged wordlessly. More!

Around and around he turned. Time passed in a blur, but before long Matt began to realize that Ms.Zander had coated him from his neck to his toes, even squishing the brush down between his toes and over the arches of his feet. The sauce, combined with sweat, or perhaps melted fat, dripped off Matt as he slowly turned, hissing and popping on the coals. Ms.Zander continued to stroke him lovingly with the long brush, working the sauce under his armpits, behind his knees, down in the crack of his ass, behind his dangling balls. She brushed it tenderly over his nipples, which she noted now stood out stiff and hard, and his similarly straining cock. The sauce dried quickly on his skin in the heat, but remained tacky as sweat and juices bubbled up through his pores.
'Michelle? Could you be a dear and tell the staff they may now give the cat's their dinner? Everyone....if you would like to watch the lionesses eat, go ahead over to the cages, their going to be fed now'. Michelle giggled and ran off to get help so everyone could enjoy the lion's feeding time.

Eventually Mistress handed off the bar-b-cue brush off to a slim woman from the secretary pool. 'Now remember, you're supposed to brush his whole body, not just the fun parts.'

The woman laughed airily. 'Don't worry. I know how to treat a man right.'

As the woman began to paint the sauce onto Matt's skin, Mistress Zander moved around to Matt's head and ran a finger down his nose. Matt's half-closed eyes popped open and regarded her with a look of melancholy. 'Hey there big boy. How are you doing?'

Matt met her gaze unblinking.

'One blink for yes, two blinks for no. Can you hear me?'

One blink.

'Good. How are you feeling? Are you in much pain?'

Two blinks.

'That's the endorphins kicking in. That and your nerve endings are shutting down. All those endorphins and adrenaline that was shooting through you will go a long way toward tenderizing you. It also gives you a very gamey flavor. Sort of the difference between a farm pig and a wild boar. Would you like some more water?'

One blink. Mistress Zander poured a ladle of icy water over his head so that it didn't run up is nose as he turned. 'Better?'

One blink. Moments passed and Mistress Zander simply watched him cook for a bit. The quiet interlude was interupted by cheers from the guests, some loud growling and ear piercing screams that grew more desperate with every passing second.
Can you hear my kitties eating? Hear the male they are eating squeal like the pig he is? He's a pig just as you are, right? Pigs to be consumed?
One blink.
Everyone is over there watching my lionesses feed on him. Very entertaining you know.....us females love watching predators eat the genitals from their male prey.....it's as if Mother Nature intended for males to be meat, don't you agree?
One blink.

'You're hanging in very well. I'm impressed. Of course, just about everything about you has been impressive, both as a man and as meat. That was some of the best sucking and fucking I have I have ever had, even if it was from a pig'.

One blink.

'I'll take that as a 'thank you.''

One blink.

'I must say, you seem to be cooking up nice and even. You'll be ready to serve in a couple more hours. I'm sorry you won't be around for that. I'd like you to hear from everyone just how delicious you are. Would you like to know how good you taste?'

One blink.

Mistress Zander smiled with a kind of admiration. 'Good. That's very sporting of you. Think you can hold out for another hour? The lions should be done by then'.

Two blinks.

'You may still,' she said encouragingly. Then she knelt close and cooed 'Do you know how fucking sexy you look on that spit? I want to climb back on top of you and fuck you again! It's driving me crazy! I can barely keep my hands off my cock! Would you like to see that? See me pump my cock while I watch your big sexy body roast over the coals?'

One blink.

Mistress Zander suppressed a laugh. 'Oh, you have turned out to be a big wanton meatslut, haven't you?'

Matt blinked once. His eyes looked pleadingly into his Mistresses.

'Then watch me… you wanton meatslut. Watch me getting off cooking you for my pleasure…' Oblivious of the other party guests, who were more focused cheering on the lionesses eating a squealing, squirming pig of their own, Mistress Zander unbuttoned the buttons on her pants and hauled her cock out. She rhythmically began to pump her cock right in front of Matt's face.

'Oh god!' she grunted. 'You wouldn't believe how hot this makes me. Watching you, trapped and struggling, all those big strong muscles being slowly softened by the heat… watching you cook soooooo slowly. It makes my cock throb watching this biiig strooong man giving up everything he is and everything he's going to be just sate my ravenous hunger… My fine fat piggie! As soon as I saw you, I knew I'd never be satisfied until I had you like this. I'd never get enough of you until I consumed you… And now you want it, don't you? You want me to sink my teeth into your meat…feel it melt on my tongue …Yes!' she gasped as her climax burst upon her. 'You want it! You want me to eat you!' Mistress Zander closed her eyes as her cock convulsed with pleasure, gushing hot white cream onto Matt's face.

'Oh my god!' Squealed the woman basting Matt with BBQ sauce. Mistress Zander's eyes flashed open and immediately saw the source of the woman's surprise. Matt's cock was spurting cum. It shot from his sauce covered cock and splashed on his chest. As he turned, his cock fired into the coals, where it hissed and crackled. Amazingly as he turned belly up again, thick sticky ropes of cum continued to shudder out of his cock.

'I just gave it one stroke,' the woman blurted. 'I swear!' The guests watching the lions heard and turned around and laughed at this new develepment.

'Oh fuck Matt!' Mistress Zander gasped. 'That was incredible! I've never seen anything like that! You just made this the most unforgettable BBQ of my life! I'll remember that eruption until I have to gum my steaks! Have you ever come like that?'

Matt did not blink.

'Matt? Are you in there?' Mistress Zander poured another ladle of ice water over Matt's head. He did not change expression. 'Oh well. Came and went.' She closed Matt's eyes with her fingertips. Mistress Zander went in over to relax and watch the lions finish up on their pig and sat with a nice glass of chilled wine in front of the scene.Although the male pig was still alive as the lions ate, he was no longer able to scream and numbly watched Ms. Zander watch him being pulled apart and eaten.

Later, after an hour of circulating among the guests and fielding questions from a number of women interested in arranging for the roasting of a loved one, Ms. Zander found Michelle Elder surrounded by a fawning circle of pretty young staffers, vying for her attention, approval and support.

'Hey there, you ready to try some of your meatboy's more done bits?'

'If they're the parts I think you're talking about,' she drawled, 'I've already tried them.'

'Not with my bar-b-cue sauce you haven't.'

'Good point,' Michelle admitted tipsily. 'Lead on, I follow.' Michelle walked carefully behind Ms. Zander until they made it to the bar-b-cue pit. Ms. Zander waited until Matt rotated belly up before tapping the foot-pedal that stopped the motor. From the neck up he looked like he was asleep. From the neck down he looked a little swollen, his skin coated with the dark sauce, blackened in places. His cock, still erect, looked like a well-grilled sausage.

'Get a plate, I'll do the honors.' Ms. Zander speared the well-done cock with a long handled carving fork. It 'popped' like a well-done sausage. With a deft pass of her knife, she lifted the member and dropped it onto Michlle's plate. 'You may get the first bite, but if you think you're not going to share there's going to be a knife fight and I noticed you didn't bring yours,' She said, waggling her razor sharp knife playfully.

'Oh, there's plenty to go around. Slice that big fella right down the middle. And let's get those oysters too while we're at it.'

Three deft strokes and Ms. Zander freed Matt's well-cooked balls from his body and skewered them on the end of the carving fork. She lifted them onto the plate with the edge of the blade. One more stroke and his cock was neatly bisected down the middle. 'You first,' she said magnanimously.

Michelle stabbed her fork into the cock and lifted it to her lips. She gave it a couple of quick blows to cool it and then pounced on the crown. 'Oh my goodness!' She moaned as she chewed. 'He's wonderful!'

'Don't forget I cooked him,' Ms.Zander countered as she speared the other half. 'I can work wonders with any old piece of meat.' Biting gently though the tender flesh, Ms.Zander moaned as she chewed and swallowed. 'Mmmm! I just wish he'd lasted long enough to see us enjoying him.'

Michelle ate ravenously, gobbling down Matt's cock and ball before Ms.Zander was even halfway through the long shaft. Ms.Zander savored every tender bite, letting the symphony of flavors dance around her tongue. She was practically purring like one of her cat's when she tossed the fat testicle into her mouth and luxuriously chewed and swallowed it.

'Dammit! Now you've got my appetite in overdrive,' Michelle good-naturedly griped. 'How long do I have to wait?'

'Not long at all, not long at all.' Ms. Zander signaled for her workers to approach and together they moved Matt down to the lowest rung again. Once he was slowly rotating again, Ms. Zander decided to just stay nearby and watch him, the rest of the party guests having no real interest for him. Breathing deeply, she inhaled the incredible scents of Matt's roasting meat. She sucked the scent in deep, as if she was taking a hit off a bong and wanted to hold the smoke deep in her lungs in order to feel the effects quicker.

An hour later she announced 'Dinner is served!' The newspaper staff lined up with Michlle at the head of the line.

'I'll have a nice thick rump steak, please,' the increasingly tipsy editor slurred. Ms.Zander carved her serving with just a few precise strokes.

'I'd like a little something off the shoulder.'

'How about a pec? I'll take the one with the ring in it.'

'I like mine well done… how about one of those hands?'

'Give me something off the calve.'

'Some thigh please, with lots of that crispy cracklin.'

After the guests were served Ms.Zander carved herself a thick steak from Matt's ass and went to the potluck side dishes to see if there was anything she'd like to have with him. A quick survey convinced her that she should have catered the entire event herself. Not a problem, she mused. No side dishes means more room to pack full of Matt.

Like most of the partygoers, Ms. Zander went back for seconds, and then thirds. There were a couple of fat bitches from the paper's research department who were definitely working on their fourth helpings. Ms. Zander was sure that Matt would have appreciated their enthusiasm for him.

By nine o'clock, as the first women began to drift back to their cars, Ms.Zander swung by the bar-b-cue pit to see how things had turned out for her delicious meatslut. Matt's carcass was looking a lot like a ravished Thanksgiving Day turkey. A pile of well-picked bones were all that remained of his arms and legs. Ms. Zander could tell which ones she'd gnawed on because they were the cleanest. Despite the huge steel cock thrusting from between his lips, Matt's face showed nothing but an expression of contented bliss. Still on the spit, his torso had been whittled down to just his ribs and hipbone. The giblets had been set aside by Ms. Zander for some organ meat recipes that she was going to keep all for herself. That liver was going to make a fine pate', and then there was her recipe for tripe, not to mention all the sweetbreads, and even his tongue. The rest would simply go to her large dogs. Her bitches loved man flesh.

But the organ Mistress Zander was most interested in was his heart. She had a recipe for a kind of heart meat ka-bob that she was particularly fond of. Cooked slowly, the heart could be a tender but very strongly flavored treat. And this tasty morsel she was going to have all to herself.

Mistress Zander may have had to share Matt's cock, but she would never have to share his heart.

Wow! That was a very good fantasy! Thank you for sharing this thrilling, exciting, titillating, stimulating fantasy! I thoroughly enjoyed it! I became very aroused, and I was envious of Matt Johnson! I would have gladly traded places with him, would have gladly in fantasy become some woman's plaything, victim, man-meat, and dinner! And in reading your wonderful story, I felt that I was experiencing the fantasy myself!

Please write and post more! I am hungry for them just as I hope some woman in fantasy hungers for me! She may in our mutual fantasy do with me as she will, and I will not whimper, complain, struggle, fight, or resist! I will be nothing but tender, tasty, and delicious!

Thanks again!

Glad you liked it! Just going to clarify I didn't write it myself, I just found it and saved it.