Part 3

As with most days Wednesday had begun normally, but for Dana Cokely it hadn’t ended that way. Talk of the coming roast on Saturday permeated everything. Her mother’s halting announcement at dinner that she’d be spitroasted Saturday with Gramma had charged the atmosphere with a tension that made Dana’s skin tingle. Even more so when mom suggested it be a lingerie event Helen, the matron of gossip, Blakely.

How that happened was after dinner as Dana and her sisters sat on the back porch with their parents and grandparents. Helen Blakely waddled up with her daughter Eileen, looking as always like a torso glued to the top of a light bulb, so wide were her hips. Helen wasn’t fat, mind you, but her butt was huge, the biggest Dana had seen. Eileen’s wasn’t much smaller.

“Yoo-hoo,” Helen sang. ‘Hello Martha! Hello girls. Hello Don! Nice to see you again, Mrs. Finney.”

“Heya Helen,” said Dad. “I guess you heard about Saturday.”

“I did! Is this Mr. Finney who I’ve heard so much about?”

“Nice to meet you, Helen,” said Grampa in a friendly way.

“I heard the news and had to meet you,” said Helen taking his offered hand. “Mr. Finney, This is my daughter, Eileen.”

“Call me Chester, please.”

“I came over because I decided to go shopping tomorrow and I wanted to confirm it would be a bra and panty day. I haven’t a thing appropriate to the occasion, so…”

“What a great idea!” said Grampa.”

“But dear,” Gramma protested. “Do you think it would be proper?”

“Why not?” said Grampa. “You and Marty will be naked.”

“Oh, good!” Helen sang. “Martha suggested it might be a nude only day.”

“Nude!” Gramma exclaimed looking at Mom.

“Well,” Daddy said. “If anyone wants to show up naked, I won’t object. Let’s call it ‘underwear optional’!”

“Great idea, Don!” said Grampa enthusiastically as Gramma scowled.

Gramma leaned over to Dana and whispered: “You know what’s on their minds!” The two exchanged private smiles and Dana giggled.

“But,” Gramma said shockingly. “Dana can’t wear panties. She has boys to impress!”

“Gramma!” Dana protested as her skin tingled with humiliation and she hugged herself protectively.

Mom was looking at Gramma with her mouth agape but her lips broke into an open smile.

“I don’t mean to be nosey,” said Helen, and Dana thought “yes you do” and so, most likely, did all Helen's daughters. “But,” Helen went on. “Are those the spits?” She pointed to the long boxes stacked on the deck against the house.

“Yeah,” Daddy nodded.

“Can I see one?” asked Helen. “If it’s not too much to ask.”

“Now it starts,” Gramma whispered to Dana.

“My pleasure!” said Grampa. “Don, give me a hand, please.”

Daddy and Grampa opened the top box.

“Hey,” said Daddy. “There are two in here.”

“Two per set,” said Grampa.

“So we have six?” Tina asked incredulously.

“One for Gramma,” said Grampa. “One for your mother and four more if need be.” He picked up one of the seven foot stainless steel poles and a long canvas bag out of the top box.

“Okay, Gather round,” he said. “This spit is brand new, state of the art. See here at the front end, these holes ooze vegetable oil so that it goes in smoothly. It’s two inches around except here where the rubber coating is. This part is called the bit. It’s so you can bite down on it comfortably. It also helps the butcher place these holes properly so the doe can breathe while she cooks.”

“Wow,” said Eileen. “So we roast alive?”

“You volunteering, sweetie?” smiled Grampa wolf-like.

“Noooo...” Eileen shook her head.

“You sure? We have plenty of spits!”

“What’s in the bag, Grampa?” asked Sandy.

“I’m so glad you asked,” smiled Grampa. He opened the bag and pulled out an odd shaped piece made of the same stainless steel as the spit. It was as if someone had bent a small portion of the spit into a hump.

“This is for anal spitting. It goes here. The spit comes apart like this…” he unscrewed the spit at an invisible seam that broke the spit almost in half, and screwed in the “hump” shaped piece that was shaped vaguely like a shark fin, with a straight slope toward the front and an arch on the back side. “This goes in the same place.” He held up another piece.

Dana and everyone else knew what it was. The anal stabilizer was standard equipment. It was threaded on both ends of a short length of stainless two inches in diameter with a rod that supported a stainless steel phallus Grampa worked in and out obscenely with a boyish grin.

“Ches,” Daddy said. “You can’t spit anyone with this end. It’s threaded.”

“Right you are, Donald!” Grampa said excitedly. “That’s what THIS is for!”

He pulled out something Dana thought was even more obscene than the anal stabilizer. It amounted to a long, rubberized phallus. It was even flesh colored with a pinkish head. The difference was that it was at least twenty inches long with a stainless steel base that was the threaded receiver for the spit.

“What’s that for, Chester?” asked Helen.

“This, sweetie, is so we can more easily stuff you!” He said. “But that’s a surprise!” He put it away leaving all in suspense. “Let’s move to the roasters.”

At this point, the whole assembly was wrapped around Grampa’s little finger. He stood, and everyone followed down to the grass below the deck toward the closest roaster.

It was truly a monster, over four feet wide and seven feet long with a hood that made it look like a caboose.

“This is an open roaster,” said Grampa. “State of the art, of course. The burners up top are a combination convection design that can go as high as six hundred degrees with the sides open. This here,” he flipped up an end panel. “Protects the roasters head so she can fully enjoy the experience. And,” he slid the panel over to one side on its rail, and then flipped up a second panel. “This allows it to accommodate two!”

“Chester,” Gramma said. “We can’t roast six!”

“Sure we can!” said Grampa. “I bought six licenses!”

Later, after Helen and Eileen finally left, Mom sat with Dad and Grampa in the kitchen signing the papers that would make her into walking meat. Dana sat next to Gramma on the couch with Sandy opposite watching Entertainment Daily. It was the type of mindless fare that allowed them idle conversation without real distraction.

“So, six roasters,” said Sandy. “You were surprised, Gramma?”

Gramma was stroking Sandy’s hair and Sandy seemed to be enjoying that. “I had no idea he bought so many. I doubt we’ll use them.”

“He could roast almost all of us.”

Gramma laughed. “Oh, no, dear. You’re still veal. It would cost seven thousand Euros to roast just you!”

“Seven Thousand?” Said Dana, shocked.

“Not you, dear. You’re not veal anymore. It only costs three thousand for you,” Gramma said and Dana noticed Sandy sigh with relief.

“I’m not veal.”

“Highschool seniors never are,” said Gramma, as she turned her attention to caressing Dana’s blonde hair.

“So, me?”

“If you like,” Gramma caressed her ear.

Dana’s blue eyes widened as she felt a thrill go through her. She’d never taken seriously the idea of being culled. It had always seemed so far away.

“What about Jeanine?” asked Sandy. “She’s Mom’s best friend.”

“We have room for her too,” said Gramma.

“Why now, Gramma?” asked Dana. “Why did you decide to get roasted now?”

Gramma kissed Dana’s forehead. “Because I couldn’t stand the idea of going with the tension between your mother and I still standing.”

“But you have four years left…”

“No, I don’t.”

“No?”

“It’s here on Saturday or at home on Sunday. I’d rather be here.”

“Why Sunday?” Dana asked.

Gramma kissed her crown again. “Ask me later.

Dana turned back to the television. Doreen Rush was reporting on Princess Caroline’s scandalous exposition of her breasts to the royal boys’ choir. She had worn a very revealing gown and bent over so that her neckline hung low enough for her breasts to be clearly visible, dangling for both boys and cameras to see.

“Her companions included Lady Penelope Shelby and Playpen E-Girl and Columnist Jenna Wells,” Rush went on. “The event, which featured Congolese art and culture, had already become controversial as three titled women of the British aristocracy volunteered to be the main course at tonight’s grand fundraising banquette…”

“Jenna Wells is hanging out with Royalty now?” Mom said standing next to the kitchen door.

“You know her, dear?” asked Gramma.

“I follow her column in the paper. She’s funny.”

“Ah,” said Gramma. “I thought I’d take the girls shopping tomorrow.

“I’m grounded,” said Dana.

“Oh, Martha,” Gramma said, still caressing Dana, on her neck now. “You don’t want to keep Dana on restriction this week of all weeks, do you?”

“Mother, what I want isn’t the issue. Tina’s grounded as well.”

“For flashing, yes, I know. But Sandy tells me none of you have any nice underwear for Saturday. I thought we should try Amanda’s Boudoir. I heard one is open nearby.”

“Mom!” Tina exclaimed. “Can we? Please?!”

Mom looked at her, shaking her head.

“Tina,” Dana piped up. “Maybe you could try not being a bitch to Mom for five minutes before you ask.”

“Dana!” Tina protested.

“Have you been mean to your mother, Tina?” Gramma asked.

Tina’s eyes locked guiltily with Gramma’s. It took her a few moments, but she nodded.

“Well, young lady. I think you should apologize to your mother this instant and swear there will be no more ugliness from your lips in her presence ever again!”

Tina looked more sheepish than Dana had ever seen her. She loved Gramma all the more for putting Tina in her place.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Tina said contritely. Dana almost believed she meant it. “I promise I really am!”

Mom, being Mom, teared up and gathered Tina into her arms. They hugged each other for long moments rocking back and forth.

“So, Martha,” Gramma said.

“Yes, Mother?”

“May I take the girls shopping tomorrow?”