Author: Urquhart Devlin
Title: School Dinners - Chapter 1
Summary: Sending your son to an exclusive public school 
can have unplanned consequences, especially in a world 
where gynophagia is the norm. Luckily Cecily is a good 
mother, and not about to let her family down.
Keywords: M+ m+ F f cons dolcett rel scat snuff tort ws



==============
School Dinners
==============

by Urquhart Devlin

This work is inspired by a short story called 'The Main 
Course' written by an unknown author.


--------------------------------
Chapter One - Selecting the Meat
--------------------------------

Cecily, not always as maternal as she meant to be, was 
making a particular effort to visit her only son at his 
exclusive boarding school today. Stoke Hall College was 
one of the oldest public schools in the country and, 
despite some reservations about sending him to such a 
very traditional institution, it hadn't stopped her 
being proud when he'd won his place.

His father, an old boy of Stoke Hall himself, had been 
unreservedly pleased. That had been a few years ago and 
John was now not only in his final term, but this was 
going to be the final parents' weekend before the end of 
year fete. Her social calendar was packed, and, even if 
she could, there was no possibility of making it to the 
fete as well. That meant Cecily was more than usually 
determined to spend every minute she could with her son 
for this last afternoon she'd see him as a schoolboy. 

The tradition of the annual summer fete was nearly as 
old as the school itself. Held on the last day of term, 
the highlight was the dinner for the men of the upper 
sixth before they left. The centrepiece of that dinner - 
in time honoured tradition her name picked by lottery a 
month before by the school's youngest boy from the 
founder's own bowl - would be one of the departing 
pupils' mothers, spitted and roasted in the great hall. 
Never having made it to the fete, and never having been 
to the dinner (the latter being an exclusively all-male 
affair), Cecily didn't know what precisely went on, but 
John had always come home at the start of the long 
summer holiday with a spring in his step.

It would have surprised Cecily to know how much spring 
John's step already had. She didn't know it yet, but she 
was now selected to be the mother whose naked meat would 
soon adorn the high table. So she drove on, blissfully 
unaware that her son had been drooling ever since her 
name had been drawn two days ago, still untroubled by 
how much he was looking forward to the thought of 
finally getting to bite into her tender flesh. 

She had to go to a society dinner herself straight after 
today's visit, and wouldn't have time to change, so 
Cecily was wearing a smart, but rather short, cocktail 
dress over her customary three-inch heels, sheer black 
stockings and black garter belt (but no panties, as was 
usual for sexually active women). That made getting out 
of the car without flashing a school full of teenage 
boys rather tricky. As a result, even though she managed 
it successfully, Cecily did wonder why she kept up the 
pretence that her husband might still desire unfettered 
access to her pussy.

Walking through the main door, she was surprised to be 
greeted by the headmaster himself in reception.

"Ah, good morning, Mrs Upshott." the headmaster said, 
making himself look extra stern so he didn't break into 
a grin, "If you would like to come to my study, we need 
to have a chat."

Upstairs in the study, feeling oddly like a naughty 
schoolboy herself, Cecily sat down nervously in a low 
leather chair, crossing her slender legs. Concerned by 
the headmaster's foreboding manner, she failed to notice 
her dress riding up her thighs, revealing stocking tops, 
milky-white skin, and just a glimpse of well trimmed 
bush. The headmaster noticed, and hid his erection by 
sitting hastily down behind his desk. Luckily for 
Cecily, she couldn't see either the bulge or the hand 
brushing his rock-hard member as he told her the news.

"It is my pleasant duty to inform you that you have been 
chosen to be the main course for the senior form's 
farewell dinner."

The headmaster, with no preliminaries, had come straight 
to the point. Cecily listened, shocked and dumbfounded, 
as the he continued.

"You will, of course, be expected to participate in the 
school fete as a sideshow first. Then, after the fete is 
finished, you will be spitted, roasted and served as the 
main course."

Cecily´s delicate little mouth dropped open. The sight 
of the petite blonde wilting in her chair at the news 
was too much for the headmaster, who stood up, his hand 
still massaging his crotch, and walked round his desk 
again to stand next to Cecily´s chair before continuing. 
He hadn't intended to be the first to try this newly 
designated meat, but it was proving irresistible.

"You have a good body," he said, reaching forward and 
grabbing a handful of pert breast, "but I think your tit 
flesh is rather too small. Tell me, what are your vital 
statistics? If you don't know that's fine, I can get my 
secretary to bring in a tape measure."

This suddenness of the news was overwhelming. Only years 
of rigorous training from a good school had prevented 
Cecily from knocking the headmaster's hand from her 
breast in disgust, something she no longer had any right 
to do. His bulging crotch, poking against her shoulder, 
suggested a squeezed boob wasn't the only thing she'd 
have to endure before she left the study.

""My, my..., my....," Cecily stammered. So flustered at 
first that for a moment she couldn't recall even this 
simple information. "Well, my measurements are, ...., 
they. ... it's 36B-27-35. I weigh ten stone six and I'm 
five foot one. That's up-to-date as well, I had them 
done last week."

"Hmm, not bad for your age, I understand you're nearly 
forty-three."

He motioned for her to stand, before running his hands 
roughly over her curves. Cecily just stood there, 
letting him invade her personal space, already starting 
to feel no more important than the piece of meat she 
was. The headmaster, unable to hold back any longer, 
pushed her down to service the erection he had finally 
released from his trousers.

"Obviously your tit flesh will require boosting to get 
the status needed for a main course, and, looking at 
your arse, that will require considerable work if the 
cuts from your rump are to be edible. It's a good job we 
now have rapid hormone treatments to increase breasts, 
when I was young it could take months to increase a 
woman by a single cup size. Back then, with such a short 
time between selection and the fete, there used to be a 
lot of disappointed breast men unless we were lucky with 
the draw."

The headmaster might be feeling himself lucky, but 
Cecily didn't feel the same way. Her memories were 
dragged back to when her husband had selected their 
second daughter for his fiftieth birthday party. Among 
all the other party preparations she'd been left in 
charge of injecting the hormones into Amber's modest 
tits. The injections had been pretty uncomfortable for 
both of them, but Amber's constant torment as suddenly 
ballooning mammaries stretched her delicate young skin 
taut had been worse. Now she had just been told her 
boobs were about to undergo the same painful 
transformation. There wasn't any point in objecting, she 
knew what being a meat-girl meant. Not that she couldn't 
say anything to the headmaster anyway, not with her 
mouth stretched tight round his substantial cock.

Panting a little as he filled her throat, the head 
continued with his review of Cecily's fate. She could 
even feel his dick spasming in her gullet as he 
described her impending torments.

"We'll start you on the hormones today. Then you'll have 
to report here every weekend for the next three weeks 
before the fete. That will work out well, as while 
you're here we'll be able to do something about 
improving your arse as well. A course of good regular 
paddling or strapping should tenderise it nicely. No 
canes or whips, we don't want to break the skin, do we? 
We'll get your son John to carry that out on you of 
course."

Even with her training Cecily might have objected at 
this point, if her vocal chords hadn't been squeezed by 
pistoning cock. Stoke Hall was a really good school, but 
they definitely had some odd traditions, and, from the 
headmaster's matter-of-fact tone, this was clearly one 
of them.

"So, every weekend when you come up here he'll have two 
sessions with you. One hundred strokes in each session. 
One before you get your tits injected, and the other 
after tea. You'll probably find quite a few of the older 
boys joining John for your beatings. As you'll 
appreciate now you're meat, it wouldn't be fair to stop 
them having some fun, and John is popular with most of 
the men here."

The thought of Cecily being used proved the trigger. As 
he finished speaking the headmaster straightened up, 
sighed, and shot his load into Cecily´s battered gullet.

Escaping cum dribbling down her chin, Cecily reluctantly 
swallowed the spunk that now seemed to fill her mouth. 
Once she'd swallowed there was nothing to prevent her 
from speaking, but reflection left her with nothing to 
say. She'd been taught to view herself, once she'd been 
chosen, as a piece of meat who had no rights to object, 
whatever happened. She couldn't see that made the 
thought of being the plaything for a bunch of randy 
teenage boys something to look forward to though, 
especially if her own son was their leader.

The headmaster had enjoyed seeing the emotions pass 
across Cecily's troubled face as he explained her fate, 
and it was a still-hard penis that he replaced in his 
trousers. It was a pity he couldn't try one of her other 
holes, but it was parents' weekend and this wasn't the 
only relative he needed to see, although it had been the 
most fun.

Reluctantly he told Cecily, who was dabbing at the spunk 
on her chin with an embroidered handkerchief, "If you'd 
like to follow me to the kitchen, the cook will inject 
you with the first dose of hormones."

As the headmaster lead the way to the kitchens, every 
boy they passed unashamedly stared at Cecily, several 
rubbing excitedly at their trousers as she walked down 
the corridor, her high heels clicking on the marble 
surface. She'd never seen the boys here behave like that 
before, but the headmaster made no attempt to stop them, 
leaving Cecily to blush at these open displays of lust. 
Had the information already passed round the school that 
she was now a piece of meat?

Then they walked into the kitchen, just in time to find 
the cook preparing for slaughter a hefty woman with 
extraordinarily large breasts who was strapped naked to 
the butchering table. Her legs were spread wide, with a 
skewer holding her arse cheeks apart, revealing a pussy 
and arsehole with half the hair already singed off. She 
was shaking nervously, her eyes red from the amount of 
crying she had already done.

What a horribly uncomfortable position, thought Cecily. 
Apart from her daughter, who'd been cleaned and shaved 
by her mother in the comfort of their own bathroom, 
she'd never really thought about the fate of a meat-girl 
before. Now she was reminded that once you're meat you 
really do loose all your dignity - and she couldn't stop 
herself from thinking how that was her now.

"We have to go for these fat cows." the headmaster said 
to Cecily, as he looked without enthusiasm at the 
wobbling mass on the table. "We'd never have enough to 
feed the whole school otherwise. At least with the 
hormones we get a decent amount of tit meat from them, 
look at what a size this one's reached, those must be a 
double J if not a K."

Cecily and the headmaster stood opposite the cook, 
giving Cecily the chance to examine the doomed woman 
more closely. The skin on her grossly swollen tits was 
so distorted it was covered in stretch marks, the flesh 
underneath bruised black and blue. Maybe the oddest part 
were her dark nipples, also engorged to an extreme size, 
but also seriously elongated, so they flopped around 
like a pair of cow´s teats. Tears were leaking from the 
fat woman's eyes again at the headmaster's unflattering 
comments on her naked body, Cecily couldn't understand 
why her fast heavy breathing didn't break into sobs.

"You're right, this one's come up a treat headmaster." 
the Cook commented, without looking up from his work. 
"There'll be breast fillet for all tonight. We've only 
had her in the stockroom for a fortnight as well, but I 
thought I'd better serve her now before that ballooning 
chest of hers actually bursts."

"We won't be fattening you up. It'll be nice to have a 
decent piece of lean meat for a change. I might even 
have a slice of rump if John does a good job."

The headmaster had turned away from the cook to address 
Cecily, giving her the closest to good news she'd had 
since stepping into the school. She was quite proud of 
her toned body, she'd certainly put in enough effort to 
keep it that way through four children, and, since 
laying eyes on this obese meat-girl on the slab, she had 
been worrying whether maybe she'd have to eat until she 
resembled a fat sow as well.

At these words the cook looked up, realising the 
headmaster had brought more meat in with him, and 
subjected Cecily to the appraising stare of a 
professional. He obviously liked what he saw quite a 
lot, as he forgot about the blowtorch he was using to 
clean the fat woman's crotch. Surprisingly, even with a 
hole being torched in her thigh, the woman still hadn't 
made a sound. As a result, the cook didn't notice the 
damage until the smell of burning flesh reminded him of 
the task in hand.

"Sorry about that headmaster." he apologised breezily, 
returning to his job. "It's a good job this one was due 
to be cut up and stewed anyway. Is that the meat for the 
end of term dinner?"

"Yes. What do you think?"

The delicate task of singeing complete, with only the 
one nasty blackened wound distracting from a lovely 
smooth finish, the cook stood up to examine Cecily. She 
was almost offended that this second highly intimate 
examination didn't produce another crotch bulge like the 
one the headmaster still sported. She tried to console 
herself with the thought he was probably immune, after 
having inspected who knew how many women in this 
kitchen.

"Not a bad body, nice and lean." the Cook concluded, 
washing his hands at the sink. "There's not much tit-
flesh, and the arse will require some work - it always 
does on these older cows - but she'll make a good 
roaster. There's a lovely even layer of fat, and the 
muscle that isn't rump feels firm but not tough."

"Exactly what I thought." agreed the headmaster, pleased 
his appraisal had been backed by a professional. "I've 
already arranged for her son to give her arse a regular 
set of thrashings and I thought you could do her first 
hormone injections now."

"You don't mind if I finish off this one first, do you? 
It'll only take five minutes. I don't like being 
distracted when I'm doing the injections, they're rather 
fiddly, particularly the first set."

The headmaster readily agreed, and stood back to let the 
cook do his work. Cecily intrigued despite herself, 
stood back too. As the cook bustled around, she looked 
on, half shocked, half awed, at the woman strapped to 
the table, whose name she didn't even know, and who was, 
anyway, about to literally become just lumps of meat.

"At least this mother is better than last year." the 
headmaster joked, squeezing Cecily's thigh, as the cook 
selected butchery implements from a rack. "That's the 
problem with a random draw. Mrs Hunderby really should 
have been stewed, not roasted."

"True." said the cook, picking up a long knife and 
feeling for the base of the fat woman's sternum. "But 
that's the tradition, and I know the boys wouldn't have 
had it any other way. When I served Simon Hunderby the 
clitoris and vulva he was grinning with pride, and 
they're tough at the best of times."

Even while he was saying this, the cook had started his 
slaughter. The sharp knife slid easily deep into the 
woman's abdomen, and he quickly drew it down until it 
was stopped by the pelvic bone. The woman, still not 
giving even a whimper, thrashed her head from side to 
side as her breathing became fast and rasping. Her body 
shook too, but the strapping was more than a match for 
any attempts to move. Only repeated clenching and 
curling of hands and feet showed the agony she must be 
suffering. A few seconds later the cook was neatly 
pulling yard after yard of entrails out and cutting them 
off, before dumping them in a stainless steel bucket.

Leaving the woman to bleed out from her stomach, he 
started work on her breasts, skilfully severing the 
grossly swollen domes from her chest with a sharp knife. 
Cecily was shocked to see the woman was still conscious, 
her eyes and mouth moving frantically in pain as her 
body was cut into parts. It wasn't until the cook had 
sawn half into a shoulder that she stopped showing signs 
of life.

With his well maintained tools it only took a couple of 
minutes to finish jointing the barely slaughtered woman. 
Job done, the severed limbs, head and torso were carried 
out to the main kitchen by a couple of young women, 
summoned by the head cook, dressed in the uniform of 
assistant cooks. A uniform, Cecily wryly observed, that 
included the smallest of micro skirts and no sign of 
panties - which might explain why the cook wasn't 
aroused by a slightly fading forty-three year old.

Tonight's meat dealt with, the cook rummaged in a small 
fridge before turning to fix up Cecily. One hand now 
held a good-sized syringe, its needle, still in a 
protective plastic sheath, looked at least three inches 
long.

As he approached Cecily, casually pulling off the cover 
to reveal the shiny metal shaft, the Cook told her, 
"This will sting a bit. After you've pulled your top 
down, just lean against the wall for support."

In the cool air of the slaughtering room Cecily's 
reluctantly uncovered nipples quickly hardened. Grunting 
with satisfaction, the cook grabbed her right breast 
firmly, pinching the erect nipple tightly between thumb 
and forefinger. With her breast held still, he pushed 
the long needle in slowly, right through the centre of 
the nipple, twisting it into position with no interest 
in Cecily's whimpers of pain. Finally, satisfied with 
the position, he injected half the contents deep in her 
mammary, making the woman gasp as the strong hormone 
burned in her flesh. With no chance to recover, the same 
brutal process was repeated on her other tit. Tears 
running down her face, Cecily gingerly pulled her dress 
back over her now highly sensitive breasts and erect 
sore nipples.

If she was hoping her ordeal was over, at least for 
today, she was about to be disappointed again. The 
headmaster quickly led her back through the school until 
they reached a door, its plaque proclaiming it to be the 
upper-sixth common room, where he paused to knock.

The headmaster's knock was immediately followed by a 
very familiar voice saying, "Please come in."

Any joy at finally seeing her son quickly dissipated 
when Cecily saw what he was holding. The wooden paddle 
in his hand must have been two foot long and, from its 
worn and battered appearance, was both old and very 
strong. John's face had the over-serious look of youth 
trying to show it was ready to take on a grown-up 
responsibility. The only slight relief, after the head's 
comment about an audience, came from the fact that John 
was alone in the room.

"Excellent John. I'm glad to see you've got prepared." 
the headmaster said approvingly, indicating both the 
paddle and a strapping horse that has been set up in the 
middle of the room.

"Thank you sir. I've been and spoken to the cook. I 
think I know what needs doing."

"That's good. Make sure the whole rump is evenly 
pummelled, I don't want to find myself getting a gristly 
bit."

"I'll do my best sir. After all the practice for the 
cricket team I'm sure I have a good hard swat."

"You haven't forgotten your culinary arts lessons 
either, have you John? You remember what you're dealing 
with now?"

Her son looked a little hurt at this, but still 
responded enthusiastically, "Of course not sir. She was 
my mother, but now she's just a piece of meat. While 
it's better to leave her free-range, she no longer has 
any rights and must accept whatever's done to her."

"Good lad. I'll just see you get started, then leave you 
to it." the headmaster gave John a knowing smile. "I 
expect a young man like you will want a bit of fun after 
you finish your work, but make sure you get the job done 
properly first."

She'd accepted that John would let his friends use her 
body. After all, now she was meat, there really wasn't 
any reason not to. The headmaster's implication, even 
encouragement, for John to do the same still came as 
another disturbing shock to her in a day of equally 
disturbing shocks.

Things didn't begin too badly. At the start John didn't 
even touch her, just told her to pull up her dress and 
lean over the strapping horse. He'd seen her bottom 
before over the years, they were mother and son living 
in the same house, so that bit wasn't so bad. Even when 
he clamped her hands and wrists in place, and moved in 
to fit the gag, his fingers barely brushed her skin. She 
did feel a bit exposed, her naked bottom pushed up into 
the air, but with so little contact Cecily began to hope 
the head was just projecting his own lusts onto her son.

He might not have anything else in mind, but he 
certainly wasn't shy about hurting her. The first blow 
felt as if it was trying to shatter her pelvis, and 
every one after seemed to compete in damage with the 
first. Cecily didn't even hear the headmaster 
complementing John on his technique, or him leaving as 
the blows continued to fall, she was too busy screaming 
into her gag. By the hundredth stroke she was reduced to 
weak gasping, convinced her buttocks had split and 
shredded.

That was when she felt her buttocks really being opened, 
or at least the raw cheeks being prized apart. For a 
moment she didn't understand what was happening, then 
she heard a grunt behind her as something probed her 
exposed anal opening. It was John - even bent over the 
horse she recognised his feet. John was about to bugger 
his own mother, not even easing her into this incestuous 
assault with a probe of her pussy first.

"I have a confession meat. You know how the balcony 
outside my room goes past the bathroom as well? And you 
know how you like to leave the window open a little to 
let the steam escape? Well, I've been watching you for 
years now as you take a bath or shower, imagining what 
I'd do if your name was drawn for the feast and I got 
the chance. I used to love seeing you do your exercises 
after a bath, fantasising about my cock slipping into 
the little brown hole I glimpsed through your bush as 
you reached down to touch your toes."

Cecily was crying more than a little as John humiliated 
her with his fantasies. It was partly from shame at 
being sodomised by her son, but plenty was to do with 
physical hurt. In the last few minutes she'd experienced 
pain worse than anything she could remember in her life 
before - if giving birth had been worse it didn't feel 
like it now. Her battered arsehole now felt as if a 
whole baby was being pounded in and out, its tender 
sides, used only to a finger or one of her slimmer toys, 
being torn by a fully rampant young cock. 

When John had shot his load into her bowels, she finally 
got to see the instrument of her destruction. It had 
stood, still almost fully erect and covered in shit and 
slimy cum, as he slipped out her gag. What she'd last 
seen as a little boy's tiny winkle was now a seriously 
impressive piece of manhood, even if not quite the 
baseball bat it had felt in her damaged rear. At any 
rate, struggling under his direction to suck it clean, 
it wasn't just the smell that made her gag. 

Released and tottering painfully upright, Cecily 
reflected on her first couple of hours since she knew 
she was meat. It wasn't as though things were likely to 
get better, she'd seen how tonight's supper for the boys 
had been treated at the end. Her buttocks, making her 
wince as she delicately felt them, were already swollen 
and raw from her beating. She couldn't imagine how she'd 
survive double that every weekend until the fete.
 
****

Struggling home in the car, late that afternoon, all 
thoughts of going on to a dinner party had been 
abandoned. Sitting down to drive was its own special 
form of torture, if she hadn't had to walk the gauntlet 
of self-pleasuring adolescents she wouldn't even have 
pulled down her dress as she tottered out of the sixth-
form common room. Even then the sight of her dishevelled 
appearance and tearstained face had given rise to ever 
more overt displays of arousal.

Her husband wasn't back when she got in, even though it 
was now quite late at night - she'd had to stop 
frequently on the journey home until the pain eased in 
her throbbing backside. Presumably he was off again with 
his latest fancy woman. Their youngest daughter Emma, 
the result of him drunkenly mistaking her for his 
mistress at the time, and the only child left at home, 
was already fast asleep in bed. Cecily decided to do the 
same, it had been a wearing day. With any luck a good 
night's sleep would let her recover enough to hide from 
Emma, at least until the next weekend, what had happened 
to her.

Tucked up in bed, Cecily found herself tossing around 
troubled, not just in body but mind as well. Her husband 
had shown no desire for her in a very long time, and the 
thought of this afternoon with John, brutal and 
humiliating though it had been, was actually making her 
excited. Her arsehole might be throbbing, but the 
knowledge that it had given pleasure to a son who had 
desired it for years was strangely comforting. Lying 
cautiously on her side, glad the darkness was hiding her 
shame, her hand slipped between her legs.

***********************


(c) 2014 Urquhart Devlin
This story is a fantasy, set in another place, with only 
the slightest passing nod to our reality as it's 
glimpsed on a distant horizon. If this isn't immediately 
apparent to you, I strongly suggest you seek urgent 
psychiatric care.