by Ralph LeCan
© Copyright 1998 Ralph LeCan Enterprises, All Rights Reserved. This story may be reproduced only in its full, original, unedited and unmodified posting where: 1) full credit is given to its author and 2) no commercial gain of any sort is realized as a result of its reproduction. No permission is granted, actual or implied, to reproduce a modified version of this story, in whole or in part, without the express consent of the author.
Around six that early September 1973 Friday evening Marsha heard the door bell ring. She had just gotten home from work. One housemate, Ruth was at her boyfriend Ron's for the weekend and the other, Melissa would be late. The 28 year old lawyer was planning to drown her sorrows of not having a date by making a dent in the bottle of "Jack" she had bought on the way home. Marsha opened the door to find a tall, rather zaftig brunette, in her early thirties, dressed as if she had been transported in time from 1968, or had never changed clothes. Bell Bottoms, a tie-dyed T-shirt, sandals and a ratty looking leather vest were "complimented" -- to use the word loosely -- by a chain with a silver peace sign on it. Marsha recalled that there were still a couple of pseudo-60's style communes in the area.
"Hi," the woman said cheerily, my name is "Ariel" and I've got some rilly groovy candles to sell, its for a good cause, "Zero Population Growth,” a lotta my friends are, well, black like you, an' I know you people rilly like candles and stuff an', so, like I know you will rilly like these, can I show you. I also got some home made soap, smells yummy!"
Marsha particularly was charmed by the "you people" comment and was about to tell the aging flower son to get lost, when she glanced over Ariel's figure. People in Ariel's commune (if she indeed came from one), were not missing any meals, at least certainly not Ariel. Therefore, on impulse, she invited Ariel in. As the white woman walked by her Marsha looked down at the satisfying expanse of the woman's jeans clad backside, Ariel certainly met the definition of "hippie" in the more than one meaning of the word. "Gotta be a lotta bowls of crunchy granola parked back there," thought Marsha.
She recalled that, while the current granola craze sees it as a "health" food because it was grain, fruit and nuts, it reality it was a high fat, high sugar concoction. In fact the women were actually considering using to fatten up a future main course. Marsha was a devotee of the hindquarter portion of their various human main courses, and assessed Ariel's ample posterior-- definitely "a keeper" thought Marsha.
She let the woman dither on about her candles and soap and, as Marsha pretended to decide, asked Ariel if she would like a glass of wine. There was a half bottle of a nice French Merlot left from Sunday's meal and she got two glasses out of it. "Geeze, this stuff is 'rilly good, is this Almeden -- the stuff we get in the jug ain't half as good?"
"No it’s French," answered Marsha, as she watched Ariel drain the glass.
“This one wasn't a sipper, ” Marsha thought, then remembered that Ron had brought over a jug of California Red for Ruth's 28th birthday and there was still at least half left, the third glass consisted of that -- Ariel didn't notice the difference.
Ariel then started to blabber on, "my three housemates all went to a wedding down in Richmond, I didn't go 'cause the bitch gettin' married stole my man, and she's now marrin' him, hey let her spend the rest of her life dependin' on that little pencil dick of his for her thrills!". This elicited another long draw on the wine.
"Geeze, Marsha," said Ariel, in a slightly slurred voice. "this is fun talkin' to you, it’s like, well I rilly have known you all my life, I mean you almost seem white, no that not what I mean, its like I forget your black, no, well you know what I mean," and she giggled.
Marsha knew exactly what she meant, pseudo-liberals like "Ariel" who, if you looked below the surface were as racist as their red-necked brethren.
The plan began to form in Marsha's mind. "Well I'm alone tonight, my housemates are all out, maybe you'd like to join me for dinner." "Hey groovy," said Ariel, "but I've been a vegetarian for like three weeks now, although I tried to eat less meat even before that. I mean it's just not right to eat those poor defenceless, dumb animals."
Marsha decided to plunge in, "yeah, but what if those weren’t poor defenceless animals, but other animals that maybe there are too many of already -- people."
Surprisingly Ariel didn't react strongly, but almost took it as a valid question, Marsha continued. "You're for population control, collecting money for Zee-Pee-Gee, "she drew out the words, "what better way to help control the population?"
Ariel seemed to give this question strong consideration, so Marsha pressed on, "You yourself, being a vegetarian, have likely had a primarily grain diet, bet you like Granola?"
"I love that shit, can't get enough of it" Ariel offered.
Marsha thought, looking down at the woman's ample thighs that filled her jeans, "you like it too much."
"So," Marsha continued, "if we had more grain fed people like you, well, she continued, don't you think you might not make a nice meal, after all..."
However, Ariel cut her off, "hey that's weird," she said, and Marsha thought, "shit, I've spooked her".
However Ariel, after taking another long sip of wine said, "that’s rilly weird. Last week, just after my latest old man Freddy and I made it he grabbed a handful of my bare behind and said I was starting to get a fat ass. I have put a few pounds recently, and I guess you have noticed, some of it went to my backside. Anyway, he said that if he were every shipwrecked on a desert island, he hoped I was with him because with the rump roasts he would get off of me meant he would never go hungry."
"Well you are a rather delectable looking lady," offered Marsha, without trying to seem too forward, "did Freddy say anything else?"
Ariel responded, "not just then, as while he was squeezin' my ass he got another hard-on and we made it again, but when I got up to get dressed he patted my left cheek, I could feel it jiggle, and he said 'lotsa good meat there, an' laughed, I did too." Since then I did think about it -- once or twice -- and wondered what people meat, my meat, might taste like."
Marsha offered that she would prepare dinner. She then said that Ariel should join her for a special roast. "Like Catholics can't eat meat on Friday let's pretend that vegetarians can. Besides, you can pretend the roast is from a nice tender juicy person."
"Hey," said Ariel, feeling the full effects of the three glasses of wine, "this is getting rilly weird, but what the hell." As if on cue, the sweet aroma of the roast that Marsha had put in the oven began to fill the air as she fetched two more glasses of wine.
"Ya know," Ariel began, a slight slur to her speech, "someone said that people, us, taste like chicken, shit, everything different they say tastes like chicken," and she laughed. "Shit, what does rattlesnake taste like; hey 'tastes like chicken', or what does alligator taste like, wee-ell, shee-it, 'tastes like just chicken'. Ariel was having fun with her little pseudo tirade, "hey what about rabbit, or sea turtle, or seal meat, hey, hey, all together now, it tastes just like chicken!"
Tears of laughter began to roll down Ariel's plump cheeks, "ya know, I always been rootin' fer that coyote to catch that friggin' roadrunner, one day he will and," Ariel a fit of laugher then spat out, "and as he chows down on the little fucker he will say, hey Marsha how many guesses do you want... IT TASTES JUST LIKE CHICKEN."
"Damn," thought Marsha, "this is getting boorish." "No Ariel," as the other woman recovered from laughing at her own, rather banal joke, "they call people 'long pigs' so I think..." Marsha paused and said to herself "I know," then smiling continued, "so we taste more like pork, but anyway, let’s go eat."
More wine was poured as dinner was served. Marsha thought that, on balance, while Ariel got more boorish as she became more intoxicated, that fact would help Marsha later on. As to the main course, it was a round, de-boned thigh from another young woman who had shown up at their door, just like Ariel, but selling chocolates instead of candles. She too had been enticed inside, never to leave. "This is a very special pork we buy from a butcher over on Florida, he says it comes from nice, well-pampered pigs." She then cut Ariel a nice thick steak. "Wow" offered Ariel, as the meat was put on her plate, "that smells rilly good, I rilly wasn't into this vegetarian crap"
Ariel then cut a large chunk of meat, not really being very careful about trimming away the fat and popped it into her mouth. "Oh wow, oh wow" mumhemorrhage Ariel, "that tastes outta-site!"
Marsha just smiled, watching the woman chow down on the meat. "Too bad," she thought, "that there won't be time to have that meat and fat converted to new meat and fat on Ariel. Marsha offered her a second piece which was accepted and rapidly disappeared.
"Ohh, I'm rilly stuffed, and Marsha watched as the woman reached down to unbutton her jeans. Marsha smiled thinking, "Babe, you don't know the half about what it really means to be stuffed!"
Now it was time to move, "hey Ariel," Marsha said, "I want to show you something downstairs, let’s take a little walk."
Ariel go up, a bit unsteady on her feet and mumhemorrhage, "hey, I think I'm gettin' rilly drunk, kin I crash on your couch tonight?"
Marsha just smiled, "fine" knowing damn well where Ariel would spend the evening.
Ariel didn't notice Marsha lock the door behind them as they walked down the basement. Once they reached the bottom, Marsha took Ariel over to the fridge and opened the door, "here's some more of that nice piggy you had for dinner." Marsha watched as she identified the still very human attributes of the cuts of meat on the shelves.
"God," said Ariel, trying to sober up, "they look like, THEY ARE, parts of people, on my god, did I just eat human meat?"
"Yes, and now you will be meat too..." was the last thing Ariel even heard as Marsha swung the well-used hammer and the plump Flower Child slumped to the floor. "And now," Marsha said to the inert form, "and now, we'll see just how rilly groovy your well-marhemorrhage meat tastes!"
Marsha wrestled the body of the young woman onto the large butcher table, she was heavier than she looked. "Okay, Ariel," Marsha said to the unconscious woman, "lets see what that big ass of yours really looks like. "Oooff," Marsha grunted, as she half lifted, half pushed the inert body onto the table, "Christ, what a porker." Once Ariel lay on the table, her shallow breathing indicating she was still alive as Marsha began to undress her. She removed the vest and the tie dyed shirt, then a somewhat dingy bra which had held up somewhat unspectacular, but satisfactory breasts. She stopped to check out the bras size, "hmmm, 36-B" thought Marsha, feeling proud of her own "34 Cs."
Ariel was now naked from the waist up and Marsha ran her hands over the sides of the woman's fleshy torso, feeling the softness of her upper body and appreciating the fact that Ariel was so well padded that she couldn't feel the ribs. She then unbuttoned, the waist of the jeans which cut into a rather substantial stomach. While Ariel's waist wasn't particularly thick at the sides, she had a nice soft belly which spilled over the front of her jeans. Marsha pinched some of the woman's belly flesh between her thumb and forefinger and smiled, "why Ariel what a nice little pot you have." and, again mocking Ariel's talk said, "now lets check out the rilly good, rilly groovy parts."
With that, after removing the woman's rather tatty sandals, Marsha unzipped the fly of the jeans and peeled them off the woman. They were pretty tight and it was a bit of a struggle but soon Ariel was clad only in her panties. Not wanting to wrestle those off of her, Marsha simply cut them and pulled 'em off. Now Ariel was naked, never again to wear clothes, never again to make any more candles, never again to hear Freddy chide her about her getting a big behind, never again to say "groovy" or "rilly"!
Marsha ran her hands over the woman's full thighs and squeezed them appreciatively, "lottsa good meat there." However, she couldn't wait to see the woman's backside and, with some effort rolled the naked white woman on her front. Marsha wasn't disappointed, and actually felt her mouth water when she saw those two round chubby cushions that constituted Ariel's rear. "Groovy," said Marsha and patted the slightly dimpled right cheek, watching the ample fat jiggle. Then, almost analytically she gently squeezed and kneaded Ariel's right buttock, noting how soft and buttery it was. This told Marsha that Ariel had been plump for quite awhile, as the skin of her rear had long ago stretched to accommodate the abundant fat which had settled in the aging Flower Child's over-sized rump. This one was definitely a "DFA".
Indeed, Marsha's specific fascination with the backsides of their victims had led her to introduce her own personal "grading system." "DFA" stood for "Deliciously Fat Ass" -- although "fat ass" was rather a bit of an overstatement. Most of the victims carried a DFA to the spit, the oven or the freezer, Marsha had devised terms and specifications for other bottom sizes and shapes.
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Marsha's Bottom Classifications
Deliciously Fat Ass: A "Deliciously Fat Ass" (DFA) is a nice proportioned, but very well-padded backside found on a woman who, while plump (or pushing plump) is not really fat. Usually, the owner of a DFA has a rather wide hip structure which is nicely upholstered. The owner of a DFA may also be of more average proportion, but with an ample rear (due to wide hips). Much rarer is the fact a few guys can also possess a DFA.
Nicely Padded Rear: The owner of a "Nicely Padded Rear" (NPR) is a few pounds shy of the DFA status. She may be of average, or slightly overweight, proportion, and her rear-end has a satisfying fullness to it.
Average Proportioned Bottom: The owner of an "Average Proportioned Bottom" (APB) has a backside which is in proportion to the rest of her body. Her bottom is neither a focal point of her anatomy, nor a distraction.
Lard Butt: A woman with a "Lard Butt" (LB) is just that, a fat ass on a fat woman. There is nothing particularly aesthetic about an LB as it is just another part of the anatomy of a fat woman -- no more, no less.
Scrawny Tail: Equally aesthetically unpleasant as a LB is the "Scrawny Tail" (ST). Devoid of any real female hip structure, it usually consists of narrow hips on an underweight woman. Rarely, but still a reality, a ST can be observed on an otherwise properly proportioned woman.
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.Just then she heard the door close upstairs and knew that one of her roommates were home. She was afraid of having Ariel wake up before she got her into the shower processing area, hung that delicious meaty body by its heels, and had her "processed." So she yelled, "whose there, I'm down here."
"Hey its me." hollered Ruth, "Ron had to go into the hospital to help in emergency, so I'm home early. There was already another nurse there so they didn't need me." She then walked down the steps and saw the plump naked white body on the table. "Wheooo, where did you get that, she looks positively delicious?"
"She showed at the door selling candles and soap, so I invited her in and..."
"Wow, said Ruth, "and I thought we were lucky to get pizza delivery in the area!"
She then patted one hefty buttock and watched it jiggle, "well, if we ever wanted to go into the soap business, there's plenty of suet here to cook up a nice big batch."
"Yeah," said Marsha, patting the other chubby cheek, "ninety nine and forty four-one hundred percent pure...lard"
"Help me get her into the shower, lets get her 'done' before she wakes up," Marsha then asked.
So the two black friends rolled the body onto the cart and wheeled it over to the shower area. After wrestling around with the first few unlucky individuals who passed through the basement, on their way to becoming meals, they decided to get a better way to move them around. So Ruth bought an old cart, used to wheel patients into surgery, from the hospital, and they rigged a pulley system to make it easier to hoist the human main courses upside down for the processing. From the earlier days of beheading, they had primarily settled on cutting the artery and/or vein of the neck to bleed them out. Then the meaty victim could be gutted, washed down, carted back to the butcher table for stuffing and either spitted for barbecuing, positioned in the large pan for oven roasting, or divided into a wide variety of cuts of meat and stored in the large freezer for future enjoyment.
They settled on the latter for Ariel but decided to let her hang over night, so that Melissa could butcher her tomorrow for the freezer.
However, when 28 year old Melissa, a Dietician at a nearby university, came down on Saturday morning and saw Ariel's hanging in the basement she we less thrilled than her two friends. "Damn" she said, "we already have the freezers full and the 'fridge is nearly so. However, we can't let something like this go to waste." The three young black women tried to figure a solution when Melissa snapped her fingers and her eyes lit up.
"Hey, I've got an idea," she said, "I have to cater a good-sized reception next Monday for the Dean and some rich alumni. I'm going and get the food today, the meat is supposed to be chicken, beef and pork -- well why don't we give them some 'special pork.' I have the money to spend so the reception will now get to appreciate a very exotic type of pork, expensive but nice. At $1.50 a pound for this "special pork," properly butchered and bone-in, our friend there should be easily worth $180 dollars. I'll just add that to the invoice from our meat supplier and we can pocket the money. I just need to cut her into pieces that no one can guess the true origin of the meat." The others quickly agreed.
After breakfast, Melissa gutted the body, then the three carried it over to the large table. Whistling, pleased with her ingenuity, Melissa went about the job of transforming Ariel's carcass into one of the main meat courses for Monday evening's function.
The unlucky woman's full thighs, cut off just above the knee and below her overripe buttocks, looked exactly like a couple of hams. Although Melissa didn't have time to cure them, they would certainly pass as "fresh ham". The only safeguard she took was to remove the bones from both, as there would likely be alumni at the reception who were doctors attending and might identify a human femur as the main "ham bone". Melissa then put those two nice cuts of meat in the meat tray. She had cleared enough in the fridge to handle a properly butchered Ariel.
Deftly, she then turned her attention to the unlucky woman's ample buttocks. Taking a special curved knife she had designed and made, she trimmed those two magnificent chunks of flesh from the hipbones. After skinning the Flower Child's two chubby cheeks, the same knife allowed her to trim a fair amount of the abundant fat from each, leaving just enough to properly flavor the meat. She then seasoned the meaty slabs, fashioned each into rolled roasts and tied then securely. Stepping back, Melissa looked at the two cylindrical roasts -- no one could identify them as being human "rump roasts".
Arms and calves were also de-boned, skinned then stuffed with dressing. She would later bake them and cut inch thick, juicy pieces for the guests to enjoy.
Ariel's fleshy belly was a bit of a challenge. However Melissa cut two large slabs from either side. Looking like nice slabs of uncured bacon, she took the meat slicer she had recently purchased, and cut both into slices that looked just like "real" -- read pig -- bacon. These she would soak for a couple of days in a marinate which would impart a "cured" flavor. Then that "bacon" wrapped around cubes of Ariel's liver (which she had saved) and water chestnuts, would be served as appetizers.
She finished up by putting together a package of ribs, sawing them in short pieces which would simmer in a Chinese inspired, sweet and sour sauce.
Melissa finished up by trimming ten pounds of remaining meat, and a bit of fat into "ground Flower Child," this would also serve as appetizers -- Swedish meatballs -- with a very nice, Ariel base.
Then, after wrapping all of the various meat dishes in airtight wrap Melissa rearranged the fridge and the freezer, Melissa created enough room to put them away.
Monday at noon Melissa came home to fill a large box with the special meat and took it back to the school. The rest of the menu for the evening's function consisted of the beef and chicken dishes, and her students were busy preparing those -- along with a variety of side dishes. However, Melissa prepared the "special pork" herself. Most of the cuts of meat just required seasoning and then from 35 minutes to two hours in a medium oven. The three speciality dishes required a bit of preparation. The first two, which were to be cooked on the stove top, were the Swedish meats balls and the bacon wrapped liver. For the third she then got out a large pot of water going for the three inch long pieces of rib which, a boiling for awhile were put in a large pan, smothered in a spicy, sweet n' sour sauce, then into the oven.
Around 5:20 that afternoon Melissa set up the warming dishes and the two carving stations, one for a large round of beef the other for the smaller roasts of the "special pork." These were put on a long table set against one wall. The function started at six and by six thirty there were fifty well dressed people sipping drinks and wine.
At first the group did not gravitate to the food, as only a few wandered over. Melissa noted, as expected, they went first for the finger food, most politely taking one each of the spicy chicken wings, a sweet and sour rib, the bacon wrapped liver, a meatball and one of the cheese balls. However, Melissa smiled as second visits ignored the chicken and cheese and concentrated on the others. The same occurred as, for the entree must politely took a little of the braised chicken breast, a slice of beef and a slice of the "pork" Melissa was carving. However, there was soon a long line in front of Melissa's carving station while the one with the side of beef, and the chaffing dish with the chicken, were largely ignored.
As Melissa served the delicious meat to the guests she politely answered their questions: "it's a new bred of pig from a special farm outside Pittsburgh...no it’s not yet widely commercially available... I got it from a special butcher over on Florida...give me your name and I'll pick up some for you the next time he gets a shipment, but it’s pretty expensive." With the last remark Melissa suddenly saw the possibility of a nice "cottage industry"
Then the Dean got up to say a few words and the crowd gravitated to the other side of the room. Melissa noted the Swedish meat balls were gone, there were a few ribs left, along with three bacon wrapped livers. In front of her Melissa had about half a rolled rump roast left, about a third of the thick end of a ham, and a half of stuffed calf. She was glad Ariel had been a good sized girl so there was enough meat to go around.
As the Dean was speaking, his wife came over to Melissa. She was a short redhead in her mid 40s who certainly wasn't missing any meals herself.
“Hello Mrs...” offered Melissa, but the woman cut her off. "No, no, Melissa, call me June" she said, “and oh, by the way, would you be so sweet as to wrap up that meat for me to take," she said, pointing to the left over rump. "If I eat any more tonight I'll burst and not be able to get in this skirt again." Melissa noted that the waist of the skirt was already cutting into the softness of her pudgy middle.
June then chuckled, "that meat is just exquisite, like nothing I have eaten before, if I could have that every day I would become a real butterball." Melissa swallowed about three retorts which came to mind and just smiled.
Well," she did say, "I may be getting some more in a week or two, would you like me to save you some?"
"Oh yes indeed," said June, "to hell with my diet, give me your address and call me when it comes in any I'll come right over." Melissa scribhemorrhage down the address for her and June scooped up two of the liver snacks and a couple of ribs and headed back towards the crowd.
Melissa watched the sway of her ample hips as she walked back to join the crowd. "Hmmm," she thought to herself, glancing down at the remaining meat on the platter and the delicious contribution the last white woman to knock on their door had made, "hmmm, we'll just have to find a way to make June's visit to our house a most productive one!"
But, of course, that's another story!