Piggie Plumpkins encounters the Femcan Convent.
Episode 19
“Let’s skewer the sinner! Skewer the sinner!”
“No--let’s bake his buns! Bake his buns!”
Such was the full-throated debate conducted by the theological throng of voracious vixens as they paraded Plumpkins around the dining hall upon their comely shoulders. All that remained of him now was his head and torso helplessly riding upon an ornate silver platter. And thanks to the kitchen crew’s previous palate pleasing preparations, he was also tenderly trussed up inside a cozy netting of butcher’s twine.
Prioress Painette soon saw that her famished flock would never agree upon a single method of preparation for the evening's flavorful fare…so she declared with the wisdom of Solomon “He shall be both BBQ’d and baked!” She pointed ominously toward a fireplace at the center of the hall “Slide him onto the roaster spit!”
Awaiting Plumpkins was a horrifying combination brick baking oven and barbecue pit with a cruel pile of burning oak roaring within, heating the blistering brickwork red hot! As each brand of fiercely snapping and popping firewood crumbled into embers, attentive young novitiates raked the gleaming coals into a trough that paralleled a long wicked steel skewering spit extending through the center.
And along the glowing gutter’s satanic sides were seated the entire gang of bully girls--each of them vigorously pumping upon her very own huffing and puffing bellows, aiming directly into searing cinders! They giggled at each other boisterously and made a riotous game of who could get her section of the tray the most torrid. The youngest bully girl smiled mischievously at Plumpkins as she vigorously contested with the others to get her section of his coal-bed the hottest…
Then the sturdily buxom Sister Burndicka stepped up to the hellish contrivance and grasped the glowing hot skewer within thick leather mitt clad hands and removed it from the bearing fixtures. Holding her prize with flourish, she displayed it before Plumpkins with pitiless disdain and said with a sneer “THIS will teach you to defile a sacred temple of the Saintress--you disgusting, degenerate, licentiousness little PERVERT!”
The no-nonsense nun then stridently strode to a position directly behind him and commenced to forcefully slide the scorching spit up his helpless rectum. All the while, the cooking crew held Plumpkins firmly in position by tightly clinging to the butcher twine truss.
A raucous roar of rowdy delight arose from all the ravenous raving beauties as Plumpkins screeched out “YEEEEEHEEEEHEEEEOOOOOOOWWWCHOOOWWCHOOOWWCH!!!!” His limbless torso violently thrashed and twisted about like a writhing worm as the mercilessly determined Sister Burndicka relentlessly shoved her sputtering spear ever further--searing through him like a blast of erupting lava! She crossly muttered to herself with each pitiless push “This is just exactly what I’ve been waiting for…” and each spiteful shove “…its about time you got your just desserts!”
Plumpkins’ outcries instantly ceased as the searing spit suddenly sprang out from his mouth to sizzle energetically atop the tongue and upon the lips tightly wrapped around it’s girth. The only noises he could manage now were pathetic whimpers and moans as gushing tears cascaded over his cheeks.
Sister Burndicka removed her mitts with satisfaction and placed her hands on her ample hips. “NOW THAT’S WHAT I LIKE TO SEE!” She permitted herself a gratified smile as she gazed upon his sufferings. “Your days of depraved decadence are done!” She then continued to cluck quietly to herself with the contented conviction of a job well done!
The bully girls gleefully left from pumping their bellows to gather around close to Plumpkins’ agony contorted face. They eagerly offered ironically exaggerated expressions of mock sympathy like “Awwww…does poor Plumpo-wumpo hurty-wurty?” and “Does you have an owwwie?”
Then the youngest bully girl suggested helpfully “Maybe we should kiss hims on the forehead and make hims feel all better…”
The entire gorgeous gathering burst out with raucous laughter at that. When the merriment finally died down Prioress Painette declared “What say we get dinner cooking--those coals aren’t getting any hotter…”
The cooking crew stepped up to slide a two pronged spit-fork onto the shaft from the rear and buried the points deep into Plumpkins’ rump cheeks to hold him from slipping. They then hefted the entire entree up and set it back upon the rotisserie bearings inside the baking oven/barbecue pit combo. As the final item a manual crank handle was fastened upon the front end, providing the victim an excellent view of the spit-turner.
The youngest bully girl immediately volunteered for that happy task! She comfortably settled onto the well-cushioned leather stool provided and leaned in for a good look at the implacably torrid heat of the oven/barbecue beginning to hungrily caress the helpless Plumpkins.
A whimsical notion came to her and she began to blow kisses to Plumpkins and make ridiculous mugs at him as she turned the crank, to all the watchers amusement. Several pretty young novitiates, no longer needed for coal-raking duty, eagerly joined the fun. Soon a boisterous bevy of roisterously rowdy beauties were putting on a silly show before him--providing Plumpkins a most pleasant diversion while his sizzling flesh progressed steadily into cooked meat…
To be continued…
