Chapter Six - Improving Your Meat

Next day Cecily was unusually silent in the back of the car that was driving her to Stoke Hall. Last week she’d had quite a good chat with the driver, at least on the way there, but the whirlwind of events since then had left her reeling. The thought of the appointment between her backside and John’s paddle, which had occupied her mind for most of the week before, had barely been considered this week until the alarm went off this morning.

Being dog tired didn’t help her state of mind. Only trepidation about the pain, and who knew what else that she faced, preventing her from leaning back and dozing against the soft upholstery. There hadn’t been much sleep for her last night. Paul and Tina, obviously inspired by the day’s drawn-out and punishing butchery of her daughter, had called her back to their bedroom for another session as an animated sex toy. They’d made her work, her jaw felt like it had been dislocated and her tongue was so stiff she could barely talk. When she was dismissed, as dawn was just breaking, to grab a couple of hours sleep, she barely even registered the emptiness of the bed before her eyes closed, her face still sticky with bodily fluids.

It wasn’t until they’d nearly arrived that the butterflies really got going in her stomach. She knew what her arse and tits were facing, and that was bad enough, but how was John planning on topping the pain and humiliation of the past two weeks? She didn’t even consider that he wouldn’t think of something. Cecily wasn’t sure what was worse, the degradation from what was going to be done to her, or the realisation she’d probably wank about it afterwards.

****

She slipped past the cook, face-fucking an assistant - the brunette this time - so hard that snot was erupting from her nose, and headed straight upstairs. Hopefully, the sooner she reached the common room, the sooner her tenderising would be over, and then maybe, she still shocked herself with the thought, there’d be a good stiff cock. At least, even if she didn’t get a hole full of hot cum, she could get back to the stock cupboard, dull but warm, where she could nurse the damage until teatime.

Her hopes were fulfilled, at least to begin with. After he’d done his work, John then did enthusiastically fill her rectum before releasing her from the horse. It was only when, instead of following his usual practice of immediately leaving, he hooked two fingers into her nose and led her out through the door, that she realised there wasn’t going to be the stock cupboard, at least not yet.

“Here you are sir. The meat-girl you asked for.”

They’d entered a science classroom. The walls were covered with posters showing the parts of plants and animals with their different stages of growth. On a long shelf that ran right around the back and sides, various pots and tanks held smaller plants and the more docile examples of fauna. Arranged behind the long benches were over a dozen boys, looking rather more excited than the average teenager about to experience education.

Cecily wished John had given her a chance to adjust her dress, but he’d led her here so fast that she’d been forced to concentrate on staying upright. Her skirt was still tucked up into her waistband, and her exposed bottom had been drawing comment in the corridors, some eagle-eyed students even spotting the dribble of cum that was escaping from her distended arsehole.

“Thank you John.” the class teacher, an elderly man with a moustache, told him. “I’ll get one of the boys to take her down to the kitchens when we’ve finished.”

“Right then.” the teacher said sharply, silencing a few excited whispers that had broken out. “Let’s see if any of you have actually managed to remember anything I’ve taught you.”

Left standing by the door - John had closed it behind him after being dismissed - Cecily listened nervously as she discovered that she was to be a live anatomical model for this third year biology class. She didn’t even try to pull up her skirt back down, they’d all be drawing a diagram of her vagina, there didn’t seem much point. When she was told to undress and stand on the podium at the front, it was almost a relief.

“And, as you can see, the extreme stretching of the stomach during pregnancy has left these little red stretch-marks behind, even though the skin itself has contracted. Yes, what is its Michael?”

“Is that why the nipples are so long as well? From the baby suckling?”

“An interesting idea Michael, but no. The elongated teats, or nipples, are actually a side effect of the hormone treatment this meat-girl’s been given to enhance her breasts.”

The teacher seemed to be very good, most of the class’s questions, as he worked through a description of all her parts, were intelligent enough to suggest they’d learnt something. If it hadn’t been her own body being prodded and described in unflattering clinical detail, Cecily would probably have actually quite enjoyed the lesson.

“Okay.” the teacher smiled. “Let’s get on to the part you’ve all been waiting for. We’ll just get the model up onto the table, and - Jason grab me those two large stands by the snake tank and a couple of clamps - get her legs fixed open so we have a good view.”

“Now. As you can see the anus has still not fully closed after recent sodomy, usually that would be squeezed up tight, but apart from that we have fairly typical female genitalia. If you’d like to take out your exercise books and make a quick sketch of it, listing all the parts please, we’ll then be able to do the internal exam.”

There was a flurry of paper and, out of the corner of her eye from her prone position, Cecily could see a dozen flickering pencils as the boys hastily drew her pussy. Indeed, there seemed to be more haste in the room than she would have expected.

“Those all seem okay.” the teacher said, as he returned from a tour of the classroom. “A little hastily drawn, but accurate at least. Let’s have you forming an orderly queue at the front then.”

Presumably they all needed to be close for the internal examination the teacher had promised. Cecily braced herself for the cold blades of a speculum, but they didn’t come.

“You all remember the technique we covered last lesson?”

A row of anxious nods.

“Good. You can go first then Jason.”

It most definitely wasn’t what Cecily had expected, and she gasped more from shock than pain.

“Have you managed to find the cervix. You should be able to get one finger through it, but it’ll be too tight for more without damage. The cook won’t be happy if we do that, not for this special meat.”

The internal examinations turned out to be a matter of touch. This was now the seventh young hand that had been forced into her vagina, although less force seem to be needed than at the start. In truth it wasn’t too bad, almost pleasant. If she hadn’t had half a dozen clumsy fingers jammed into her womb, something that didn’t get any less disagreeable, Cecily might actually have enjoyed the experience.

As it was, when the boy tasked with getting her safely to the kitchens told her to kneel down in a quiet corridor and blow him, she didn’t refuse, even though she was unsure if he had permission to do so. After such a cold and objective study of her naked body, it was, she admitted to herself, a relief to be used for the boy’s pleasure.

*****

The afternoon in the stock cupboard was extremely boring, something she was learning not to complain about. She had her hands full, these days literally, nursing her breasts. The injections still went in through the centre of her nipples, nipples that were now very long and hyper-sensitive to the slightest touch, never mind being pierced along their entire length. Her back was already starting to ache from supporting the unbalanced weight the hormones were producing. She reckoned, if they swelled to the size of some of the grotesque mammaries around her in the cupboard, her slaughter might actually come as a relief.

As the burning sting from the injection had descended to a dull throbbing, she did look around at her fellow meat-girls, the usual collection of older women in various stages of morbidly obese, until her eye was caught by the thinnest body in the room. The meat-girl - still thin by the standard of the room - was leaning back with her legs slightly apart and had not yet grown so much that her fat had swollen to hide the sure sign she was a natural blonde from Cecily’s eye. It was hard to be certain with, already, a new layer of fat on a belly swollen by the force-feeder and her mouth held open by the tube, but she thought the new meat-girl had been one of the kitchen assistants. She’d noticed that girl, with her tiny skirt and no pants, had been a natural blonde too. Cecily wondered if becoming meat was a requirement of the job, or if she’d done something to annoy the cook.

****

The blows rained down, each one cracking against her dreadfully bruised flesh with pain like the stab of a knife. John was panting and grunting on each stroke, using every ounce of strength he could muster to drive the thick wood into her punished rump. He’d tied his mother’s gag on uncomfortably tight, which was probably saving his hearing.

“Give us a hand lads. This sow isn’t walking, and it’s got a car waiting downstairs.”

“Just give me a moment. There’s some flowers here we could use to garnish it.”

Cecily wasn’t walking, the muscles in her arse felt like they’d been turned to jelly. Her rump was probably suitable eating now for a ninety-year-old with dentures. She felt four strong pairs of hands lift her up and carry her, face down, through the corridors to the back door by the kitchen.

“Just dump it on the back seat. She can always be tipped out at the other end if she’s still not able to stand.”

Still groaning into the gag that John had forgotten to remove, Cecily barely cared that her punished buttocks were on display as the hired car drove away, just glad of the cooling breeze. She hadn’t noticed the grins of the boys they’d passed in the corridor, or the backward smirks as John and his friends returned inside.

After an hour’s drive, Cecily was recovered just enough to notice her rectum felt strangely full. Gingerly surveying the site with the tips of her fingers, it didn’t take long to establish the cause. An unseen wag had indeed garnished her bottom with flowers, they just hadn’t troubled to take them out of the vase. For the past hour her driver had been able to see her bare arse stretched wide around the large glass pot.

The driver was well-trained, easily managing to keep the car on the road as Cecily winced and grunted through the delicate removal of the outsize object from her colon. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied, she might have noticed a slight grin and a tendency to use the mirror more than was strictly necessary.

****

Cecily’s last week at home proved very quiet, she really could have done with more distraction. The changes to her body had finally reached the stage where they had ceased to be an inconvenience, and had become a constant annoying torment.

At least, by Tuesday, she was finally able to walk properly, if still a little unsteadily. On Saturday Cecily had been practically dragged to her bedroom, the swollen and torn muscles of her backside unable to bear the weight. Now at least she could stumble around the house, although she suspected all her former grace had gone permanently.

Not helping with her balance, or her comfort, was her bosom. Every time she looked down they bulged further out from her chest, making her spine ache as she leaned back further and further to avoid over-balancing. You couldn’t now miss her development of disgustingly long teats with dark compression bruises under skin stretched paper-pale, just like she’d seen on the other meat-girls. Sometimes, when their constant aching touched a fiery crescendo, Cecily practicality considered hacking the gross orbs off herself.

Then there was her diet. The first plate of it had been plonked on her bedside table by Tina on Sunday morning, while Cecily lay, unable to rise, in a small puddle of crap from her ruptured arsehole.

“What’s that?” she’d asked, staring at the unappetising bowl of slop.

“Your food for the week.” Tina told her. “The headmaster rang last night and asked me if we could put you on silage until you’re butchered. He wanted to make sure you were in tip-top condition for the dinner.”

Presumably it was the same stuff that was pumped into the stomachs of the sows fattening in the stock cupboard. It was utterly flavourless, but Cecily obediently ate the five bowls a day of it she was presented with. Its effects certainly gave her an insight into the flatulence the meat-girls suffered from, she was in the toilet three or four times a day now, but at least soft turds gave her sphincter some chance of healing. She was grateful she hadn’t been put on a constant force-feeder, even the occasional bowlfuls she was having were plumping her out.

There was one advantage to the emptiness of the house - even Paul had gone away - Cecily felt free to wander around naked, or as good as. The only item of clothing she now regularly wore was a half-cup bra, to try and ease a little of the strain that increasingly heavy tits put on her. If there’d been anyone more than Tina in the house, a woman whose shit she’d eaten direct from her puckered hole, Cecily would have felt forced to hide her itching unshaved legs and wild pubes.

****

It was not a pleasant surprise when Tina, knocking on her door and not waiting for an answer, announced, “You’ve got a visitor.”

There was no time to grab anything, not even a towel or cushion. She’d managed to accept Tina seeing her in such an unkempt state, but Cecily felt herself blush with shame at the knowledge another person was about to see her like this.

“Hi Ceci. I’d have called first, but I was pretty sure you’d refuse to see me.”

Cecily almost managed to feel relieved. The visitor was her friend Sandra, not exactly a stranger to the sight of her naked. If Cecily hadn’t felt her transformed body was quite so disgusting, she’d would have been quite glad to see her. She waved Sandra to a comfortable chair, a little surprised to see her normally smart friend in a shapeless dress that reached to her ankles.

“You certainly seem to have started a trend.” Sandra said conversationally, gently lowering herself onto the seat. “Did you know Janet and me are both meat-girls now?”

She hadn’t known. That certainly represented a thinning out around the tea table.

“Well, I suppose it was bound to happen eventually.” she commiserated with her friend. “Do you know how you’re going to be slaughtered?”

“It could be worse I suppose. My husband asked Jill to do the honours, so at least I know I’ll be cooked properly.” Sandra smiled a little ruefully and shuffled uncomfortably on the chair. “Although, at the moment I’m wishing the woman wasn’t such a perfectionist.”

Cecily looked at her friend. She certainly wasn’t looking relaxed in the way most people did in that particular chair. Given Sandra was now meat herself, Cecily suspected she knew why, even if she wasn’t sure of the exact cause.

“I’m surprised Jill thought your meat needed improving. What’s she doing to it? Surely she’s not pumping it full of hormones like these ugly things.”

Sandra didn’t bother to argue as Cecily lightly indicated her breasts. They’d known each other too long to take false compliments, and they both knew Cecily’s tits were grossly deformed.

“Of course not, Jill would rather give up cooking than do that. No, my husband asked her for that chilli-infused barbecue roaster like we had for Alison’s fortieth.”

“That’s unfortunate. I take it Jill’s already started the infusion? In that case I’m impressed you’re sitting so still.”

It was quite impressive. Jill wasn’t given to hiding the secrets to her culinary success, and Cecily knew what the recipe entailed. As well as sympathy, she was quite intrigued to see how it was done. She didn’t think Sandra would mind.

“As I’m going to miss your farewell tea party, do you think I could have a look at the chilli-infusing now?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s not as though I’m wearing anything underneath this dress anyway.”

The reason for such a loose costume was quickly revealed after Sandra stood up and pulled down the zip, shrugging the dress calmly to the floor.

“Bloody hell Sandy! How were you managing to sit at all, let alone so still.”

Cecily had good reason to be shocked. Her friend’s body was covered in raw red patches, at the centre of each a tiny cut held closed with a single stitch. In her belly, which looked quite bloated, a large gash was closed with half a dozen staples.

“It’s not so bad now. Jill insisted on using Ghost Peppers for maximum flavour and it felt like she’d tipped me in boiling oil to start with, but I think they’ve eaten through my nerves because it’s more like a dull ache now. If it wasn’t for this,” she gingerly patted her belly, “I’d probably be quite comfortable, given the circumstances.”

“You’ve been pre-stuffed haven’t you? I’ve heard about that, but isn’t it really tricky to pull it off?”

That meant, when Sandra’s belly had been sliced open, most of her guts had been cut out and her stomach wrapped into a thin cylinder. A quick tweak on a cheesewire that would have been wrapped around the base of her oesophagus, and the remains of her intestines could be pulled out in one go as soon as her anus had been cut free. Her bulging stomach would be full of a rich mix of herbs and spices, marinating her belly and organs with a superb hit of flavour.

“I should say so.” Sandra agreed. “It was absolute agony, Jill had to strap me on the kitchen table, which she didn’t even have to do when stuffing the cuts in my clit with peppers.”

“Ouch.” Cecily agreed, but she couldn’t help thinking of the result of all that torment. “Mind you, it really does give you a superb taste, there was a pre-stuffed meat-girl at Margaret Astor’s charity dinner a few years back.”

“I’m hoping it works as well as I’ve heard, I’ve never tried a meat-girl prepared like me. I really should be delicious, Jill’s even planning to have me drink a bottle of wine once she’s sewn my bottom back up. After I’m cooked and carried to the table, she’ll push a knife up my pussy and make it gush gravy.”

Cecily was really sorry she’d be missing that dinner party. Sandra was in pretty good shape anyway, and by the time Jill had finished with her she’d be bound to taste superb. More disturbing for Cecily was her arousal at the thought of seeing a knife plunged into the half-prepared pussy in front of her.

“Are you getting turned on by my meat?”

The question so exactly echoed the one currently burning a hole in Cecily’s brain. For a moment she couldn’t respond, just kept staring blankly into Sandra’s bush. When she finally looked up, it was to seem more understanding than she’d expected in Sandra’s face.

“I suppose I am a bit.” she answered reluctantly. “I really don’t know what’s come over me recently. I even got excited when John and his friends were tag-teaming my bottom.”

“It’s okay Ceci.” Sandra reassured her. “I’ve always got a bit hot every time I’ve seen one of our group as a meat-girl.”

“You’ve never mentioned that before.”

“Well, it’s not something you’d normally discuss, is it?” Sandra pointed out. “But now we’re just a pair of sows waiting for the butcher’s knife it hardly seems worthwhile being prudish.”

“Even after you’d finished assessing me?” Cecily couldn’t help asking.”

“I’m afraid so.” said with a slightly bashful smile. “I had to retire upstairs for a little ‘me time’ before I put the supper on.”

After that Cecily, and probably Sandra too, found the conversation as honest as they’d ever known. She told Sandra everything, even her shit-fuelled threesome with Paul and Tina. It was an incredibly cathartic experience, especially when her friend responded in kind.

“I never thought my husband was into scat either, but ever since my bowel’s been shortened he’s had me do my new party trick for his friends.”

“New party trick, what’s that?”

“As you can imagine, everything squeezes straight through me now in about ten minutes barely touched. He has me swallow a handful of mints, then crap them out in almost perfect condition into his friend’s mouth.”

She was sorry when Sandra, after another visit to the loo, finally had to leave. On the other hand, Cecily could finally see to the clit that had been swelling in her crotch every time she’d looked at her friend’s marinating body. She’d almost decided to break her final taboo and ask her friend to stay for a little mutual stimulation, but by then Sandra was in a hurry to get home and prepare her family’s evening meal.

****

There was one more surprise waiting for Cecily as the week drew to a close. Tina, most definitely left in charge of the house by Paul, dragged her off the landing and into the master bedroom. Cecily, pushed to the floor at the foot of the bed, wondered, in a daze, what was about to happen.

“Bloody Paul’s not going to be back until Sunday.” the younger woman announced petulantly. “I’m not waiting that long to get off. Get licking.”

Cecily had briefly considered running her fingers into Sandra’s snatch, but they’d been close for decades and it had been an intimate moment. Apart from that she’d had no particular desire to get up-close with another woman’s muff. Before she’d have refused outright, but she knew how a meat-girl stood and reached out a tongue to the dripping gash that was descending towards her.

“Get this down. There might even be a bit of your delicious daughter left in there.”

If Cecily had doubted Tina’s commitment to scat, she didn’t any longer. She felt the woman’s sphincter pucker and part as she obediently probed it with her tongue, until the first soft stinking turd began to push out into her mouth. She assumed Tina was pissing as well, until insistently clenching thighs revealed how aroused the young woman was becoming by her degrading treatment of Cecily.