Chapter 8 ***Cook and Serve***
Erica began to sweat and struggle futily as the oven first began to cook
her alive. She wondered how she went from worrying about boys and school and her
weight to being fattened and shoved into an oven like a turkey. She knew she was
done for, and the oven only got hotter and hotter. She began to bake well and
scent from the cooking meat, juices from her body and her layer of fat, wafted
into the audience's direction. They commented on how delicious she smelled, and
how good she would taste.
Even she thought she smelled good. It's strange, but perhaps because she
knew she was done for, a part of her wondered what she would taste like. It was
almost at that moment that Pierre opened the oven and moved her out slightly.
She was groggy and half cooked, but she was alive. Was he going to turn her over
or something?
He pulled out a cooking fork, and poked both of her tits. Pain exploded
in her head and brought her to her senses; he wanted to make sure that her
breasts didn't burn. They were, afterall, a delicacy. He then brandished a
knife, and poked her tit again, this time cutting out a small chunk.
Erica screamed in pain as he did this; were they going to eat her before
she was even dead? How much crueler could this get?
Pierre then removed the apple in her mouth, and fed Erica the piece of
her breast. At first she resisted, but then she took it and began to chew. It
was succulent, and tasted delicious. It seemed to melt in her mouth, the perfect
combination of fat and meat. She swallowed and he put the apple back in her
mouth. This stunt had driven the audience wild. Soon they would eat.
Back into the oven she went, and the door closed. They watched their
young, sixteen year old victim pass out and finish cooking. The men were jerking
off, and the women were playing with themselves, all at the thought of watching
her bake, and how she would taste.
They waited about an hour, and then Pierre exclaimed,
"Dinner is served!"
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