Author: Urquhart Devlin
Title: School Dinners - Chapter 3
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



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School Dinners
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by Urquhart Devlin


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Chapter Three - Home Life for Meat
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Next morning it was clear she could no longer hide from 
Emma that her mother had become meat. The thought of 
covering her tenderised bottom with anything before she 
was forced to was too painful to bear. Coming downstairs 
wearing nothing but a T-shirt, with her cheeks black and 
purple, was going to be a big clue that something was 
going on. Cecily knew she couldn't hide in her bedroom 
forever, she was just going to have to tough it out. In 
the event the it went better than expected, although not 
how she'd imagined.

"Morning dear, morning Emma." Cecily said, gave her 
husband a perfunctory peck on the cheek - it was all the 
contact he would accept from her these days  but giving 
her daughter a more lingering kiss and half hug.

Emma, turning to return the kiss, looked shocked to find 
herself at eyeball height with her mother's naked bush.

"Mum! Why aren't you wearing anything?" she asked. Then 
blurted out, as her mother's movement revealed a glimpse 
of badly damaged buttocks. "And what's happened to your 
arse!"

Her husband carried on reading his paper. Obviously not 
planning to help her with this awkward conversation.

"You know how John's school has a tradition of putting 
on a dinner with one of the mothers for the boys who are 
leaving?"

"Yes."

"I've been chosen for this year. I'm now on a strict 
regime to improve my meat before I'm slaughtered."

"Will I be able to go to the dinner? Do we get to see 
you butchered first?"

That was where the script in Cecily's head had broken 
down. Emma had sounded excited at the prospect of eating 
her! Even hoping she'd get to see her mother 
slaughtered! Cecily felt quite weak as she tried to 
answer the girl.

"The dinner will be only for the boys and teachers at 
the school. Anyway, all the butchery will be done in the 
kitchen beforehand."

This comment brought Emma's father out from behind his 
paper. A rare event of the breakfast table.

"Your mother's half right Emma." he informed her. "The 
dinner is a private affair. However, unless things have 
changed since I was there, she'll be prepared for 
roasting in the Great Hall."

He didn't seem to notice his wife frozen in shock, 
realising her last tormented moments, being treated like 
the meat she'd seen in the kitchen, were going to be 
played out in front of an audience of lads, her son 
presumably among them.

"There's quite a traditional ceremony around dressing 
the meat." he continued, smiling at the memory of his 
own schooldays. "In my day we used to have everyone piss 
on it before the meat went over the coals - didn't 
really do anything for the flavour, but was the 
tradition, and boys do enjoy being a bit disgusting. I 
suppose they'll have stopped that now with all these 
hygiene regulations. Anyway Emma, not getting to the 
dinner won't to be something you'll have to worry 
about."

This was probably the longest speech he'd ever made at 
the breakfast table. Mother and daughter were stunned, 
Cecily completely failing to appreciate the news she 
wouldn't be a schoolboys urinal. It was left to Emma, 
who hadn't just had a disturbing insight into her fate, 
to speak, even managing to ask a pertinent question.

"Why needn't I worry?"

"I've decided to throw a farewell dinner so my friends 
can see off your mother. We'll be having you for the 
main course."

"You mean I'll get to be cooked like mummy? Will I get 
my bottom beaten until it's purple?"

"No." he chuckled. "Your rump will be lovely and tender 
anyway, but I'm sure we can arrange to have it 
ruthlessly buggered to match your mother's if you like."

Hearing that Emma was to be cooked wasn't particularly 
surprising to Cecily. She'd already prepared one 
daughter for her husband's table and had wondered 
whether Emma might not go the same way eventually. What 
she hadn't expected was Emma's excitement at the news. 
Her elder sister Amber, admittedly, had taken the news 
she was meat perfectly calmly, but she'd been resigned 
rather than excited to find out. Her husband's 
intimation that he knew Cecily's bowels had been invaded 
didn't register with her until much later.

"Will she be needing the injections to fill out her 
breasts? There's not really time to do a proper job on 
them. We could try a double dose, but she'd probably end 
up screaming for a fortnight, and the results are likely 
to be a bit odd."

Cecily often found sticking to the practical helped in 
disconcerting situations. A slightly selfish part of her 
also hoped that a hint to her almost flat chested 
daughter of what was coming might bring her to the state 
of mind her mother had been expecting. She didn't really 
want to upset Emma, but she couldn't understand the girl 
looking forward to slaughter.

"There won't be any need for that. She should be 
delicious as she is. I've rather gone off hormone 
enhanced breasts, there's not really any flavour to 
them. With careful basting Emma's bee-stings should be 
delicious."

"If I'm not getting the tit thing, does that mean I 
won't get any cocks in my bottom either?"

Her mother's mental script for the conversation was torn 
up and thrown away, Emma was revealing things about 
herself that Cecily had never suspected. Whilst Cecily's 
upbringing made her prepared to endure rough work on her 
body to improve her meat, Emma was looking disappointed 
at the thought she was missing out on any part of the 
torment. Luckily for her sanity, her husband chose that 
moment to revert back to type.

"Stop asking so many questions." he admonished Emma, 
regaining his usual taciturn attitude to the breakfast 
table. Pulling his paper back in front of his face, he 
added, "If you really want to know, you can ask your 
mother later. Now give me some peace."

She didn't realise at the time, but that conversation at 
breakfast set the seal on a complete change in her home 
life for Cecily.

****

"Do you really think people will be happy with these? 
Maybe I should get some hormone injections, even if dad 
said I didn't need to. I think your boobs are looking 
bigger already."

Emma was leaning against a worktop in the kitchen, using 
her palms to squeeze what tits she did have together in 
an attempt to get some cleavage. Cecily, bustling around 
as she cooked supper, impatiently moved her daughter out 
of the way.

"Why are you always standing right in the way of where I 
need to be? Don't you have anything else to do while I'm 
busy? And couldn't you put some clothes on, even a 
bikini or a dressing gown?"

Her daughter was stark naked, as she had been since 
Sunday, and there wasn't much Cecily could do about it. 
Emma had escaped as soon as that breakfast was over, and 
when her mother saw her next in the hall, a bare two 
hours later, she was stark naked and examining her body 
in the long mirror next to the door.

Cecily had marched over to grab her daughter by the 
shoulders, intending to send her upstairs to get dressed 
at once, before she caught a glimpse of them together in 
the mirror. The view shocked her into momentary silence. 
Despite quite similar features, she and her daughter 
presented quite a contrast. Both displayed neat little 
triangles of pubes and the same shade of light brown 
hair, but, while Emma's skin was youthful and smooth, 
her mother's, even without the prominent damage to her 
buttocks, was lined and blemished with age and 
childbearing. She even, compared with her daughter's 
neat little A cup breasts, thought she could start to 
see a slight swelling of her own bosom under her T-
shirt.

Cecily had protested, but her daughter stubbornly 
insisted that, as meat, she shouldn't be wearing 
anything. A complaint to Emma's father hadn't done any 
good either. He'd just said, to Emma's delight, that he 
liked to examine his meat while it was still on the 
hoof, it whetted his appetite. So Emma was free to be 
naked while she stood in the kitchen watching her mother 
cook.

"Seriously, what do you reckon mum?" the girl had asked, 
ignoring her mother's complaints. "Do you think these 
will cook up alright, or should they be larger?"

The attempt to clothe her daughter hadn't been made with 
any real hope. Cecily moved on to worrying about the 
question Emma was asking.

"I don't know why you're bothering about the size of 
your chest, you'll be butchered before they're cooked 
anyway."

"But I want people to enjoy my meat." Emma protested.

"Well you don't want the hormone injections anyway." her 
mother said firmly. "You've no idea how painful they 
are."

Mother and daughter looked at each other with 
generational incomprehension.

"Isn't that the point?" Emily responded. "Where's the 
fun in being meat if you don't get the suffering as 
well. I think I will get the hormone injections, it'll 
be a surprise for dad."

She knew schools now took a much more enjoyable attitude 
to butchery than they had in her day, openly discussing 
all aspects of it rather than just covering the 
functional basics and skipping over the social side. 
While Cecily did approve of that, her old-fashioned 
education meant she just couldn't grasp her daughter's 
willingness to revel in what she thought of as the 
embarrassing parts of being meat. She tried not to let 
it bother her, but there was some awkwardness in her 
voice as she answered the question.

"I don't think growing your chest will be a very good 
surprise for your father now you've decided to stay 
naked." she suggested. "Anyway, you know he specifically 
mentioned he doesn't want hormone enhanced tit-meat. If 
you really want to please your father, you'll let him 
choose how to prepare your meat."

"All right." Emma said, looking disappointed, but she 
wasn't going to go against her father's wishes. "Just my 
luck his tastes have change, Amber got her boobs done."

"Amber hated that." her mother pointed out. "Said she'd 
rather have been roasted live, at least it would have 
been quicker."

"Amber always was a bit weird. Did you know dad was 
going to get a professional butcher and make a whole 
show of it until she asked him if he'd just do her 
quietly in the garage? I reckon it's because she got 
Miss Randall for civic education, all the girls from her 
class were a bit odd about being meat."

Cecily liked Miss Randall, although she probably was a 
bit old-fashioned, she'd already been a teacher back 
when Cecily was at school. Younger teachers using newer 
methods had a very different effect on girls. Look at 
Emma - it was obvious she couldn't comprehend why her 
sister had turned down the chance of being slaughtered 
in public.

"We got Miss Spears for civic." Emma was continuing. 
"Now she was fun, everyone wanted her. We were really 
lucky, we'd have had Miss Randall as well if she'd still 
been teaching."

"I didn't know Miss Randall had retired." Cecily was 
surprised, she'd have expected to hear about that, maybe 
even be invited to her leaving party.

"Didn't you see her at my school's winter fundraiser? 
You couldn't really miss her, she was the hog roast and 
they'd left her head on."

Cecily hadn't made it to the fundraiser, like so many of 
her children's school events. She did know about the hog 
roast though, from a couple of years back. The teacher 
then had been clearly identifiable as her naked body 
turned over the coals.

"Poor Miss Randall." Cecily sympathised. "She wouldn't 
have enjoyed that at all. She always said a good chef 
never served a lady whole, and always took the head off 
first."

"Silly cow." was Emma's reply to that, no hint of 
empathy. "She should have got herself cooked years ago 
if she hadn't wanted to end up on a spit. People were 
only buying her tough old meat because it was for a good 
cause. Most of her ended up in the bin."

"That's not very nice, I'm not that much younger than 
Miss Randall." her mother pointed out. "Are you saying 
that I'm just so stringy old bird?"

"Oh no mum. You look much better than she did, she was 
all worn and wrinkly. Anyway, John's school would hardly 
be bothering with all the tenderising and stuff if they 
didn't think you'd be worth eating."

She supposed it was a compliment, Emma was certainly 
keen that her own meat should please the diners. Was it 
worth it having her meat put through such a distressing 
regime to improve its condition? It might just be, the 
thought of her tough old body thrown in the bin uneaten 
was more troubling than she'd expected.

****

Then came Thursday, when her husband came home with a 
woman on his arm.

"Cecily this is Tina." he'd announced, blithely happy. 
"I'll be marrying her this summer, so I thought she 
could move in. There doesn't seem much point in her 
being stuck alone in her flat now."

"Should I make her up a bed in the spare room?" Cecily 
asked weakly, unable to take her eyes off the vision of 
blonde youthfulness.

She knew her husband had mistresses, he'd never made any 
particular secret of it, but she'd never actually met 
one before. If she was being honest she'd have to admit 
he had good taste - Tina had thick blonde hair, a lovely 
trim body, and virtually unblemished skin. Was Tina just 
the lucky woman he'd been riding when his wife was 
classed as meat, or had he been planning to slaughter 
the before she was picked by Stoke Hall?

Her husband's reply cut short these musings.

"There's no need to make up a bed, Tina will be sleeping 
in my bedroom. I don't want to make extra work, and it's 
only for a couple of weeks, so you'll be sleeping with 
Emma. Think of that bedroom as the larder."

Tina giggled, not unpleasantly, at her lover's joke. 
Cecily couldn't help remembering it was actually three 
weeks - you tended to remember how long you'd have an 
aching bottom and increasingly painful breasts - but she 
was meat now, so that was an end of it. There wasn't any 
particular reason why he couldn't have told her to sleep 
in the garage or the shed if he'd chosen, at least she'd 
have a mattress, even if it was a single shared with her 
daughter. Come to think of it, although he hadn't given 
her a date for the farewell party, before the three 
weeks were up she'd probably get Emma's bed to herself 
anyway.

As if on cue, Emma chose that moment to appear in 
person, wearing nothing but a welcoming smile.

"Hi Tina. I didn't know you'd be moving in so soon. Does 
that mean you'll be coming to my party?"

Apparently Emma already knew exactly who Tina was, and 
didn't seem the least perturbed that her mother was 
being supplanted. She accepted without question, and now 
her mother was meat, her father was perfectly entitled 
to consider himself single. Cecily had hoped that her 
daughter would be a little disappointed at a replacement 
while she was still at home, especially as they were 
both in nearly the same situation.

"I wouldn't miss it." was Tina's happy reply to the 
girl. "I'm looking forward to sampling those tender 
thighs. I know most people prefer breast or rump, but I 
don't reckon you can beat thigh for crisp skin and juicy 
flesh."

"I'll leave you two girls to catch up."

Cecily, not even included in his parting comment, 
followed her husband with her eyes as he disappeared 
into his study, his cheery tread another reminder that 
she barely existed in the house any more. That left the 
three of them standing in the hall. With the man they'd 
both had in their bed gone, Cecily looked rather 
uncertainly at Tina.

Tina, on the other hand, was young enough to be 
completely unfazed by the situation. It was a 
generational thing, she looked much closer in age to 
Emma than Cecily, but the first remark she addressed to 
the woman she was replacing showed no hint of 
awkwardness or embarrassment.

"You'll be okay keeping out of the way while I settle in 
with Paul, won't you?"

It sounded more like an order, admittedly nicely 
phrased, than a request.

"I suppose so."

"That's great. Paul said you shouldn't be any trouble."

That's me then, thought Cecily, as she reluctantly 
headed upstairs to move her clothes into the room she 
now shared with her daughter, I really am just meat. For 
a moment she considered following Emma's lead and doing 
without clothes at all, but a last remnant of outdated 
decorum prevented her.

****

At least, the following day, there was an excuse to 
leave the house. Her local ladies circle had a tradition 
of holding an afternoon tea party when one of their 
number was set to be butchered. Cecily always enjoyed 
these get-togethers - tea, cakes and a civilised 
discussion on which cuts from the meat-girl would cook 
best.

"Come on in love." her friend Sandra, the host of the 
party, said as she held the door open. "We're all 
waiting for you in the sitting room. Pop your clothes on 
the hall chair and join us."

This was one time being naked didn't bother her. She'd 
known most of the women who surrounded her, as she knelt 
on all fours on the coffee table, since school. Six 
years of communal showers, watching each other sprout 
boobs and hair, had left little room for embarrassment 
when they were together. At least this would be a 
sympathetic audience.

Indeed, the first thing Sandra said when Cecily came 
into the living room and took up her position was, "Your 
poor bottom! I know it produces a lovely juicy rump, but 
it's got to be painful."

"It does leave the meat so tender though." said Jill, 
considered the best cook of the group. "You remember how 
tough Melinda's bottom was, even at school? Her husband 
asked me to cook her and, after I'd put in a few weeks 
work, you'd have sworn her rump steaks had come off a 
baby."

Even Cecily salivated a little at the thought of Jill's 
cooking. The woman could take the most unpromising cut 
and turn it into a dish you'd walk twenty miles for. If 
she knew she was being cooked by Jill, she'd probably 
run to get her arse thrashed.

"Her boobs are coming along nicely." said Dora 
comfortably, the girl in class who'd needed a bra when 
the rest of them were still in vests. "It's odd to see 
Ceci with enough there to need support."

"I'm not keen on forced tit-meat, it never seems to have 
any flavour. It's like all this quick-fattened meat 
nowadays. Okay for industrial catering, but I wouldn't 
want to serve it at my own table."

There was a general murmur of agreement at this. 
Allison, a well-built mother of nine - and pregnant 
again - leaned forward awkwardly to test the skin on 
Cecily's midriff with a good squeeze.

"Well, Cecily's not going to be too fatty." Allison 
said, "Somebody's been looking after themselves, even 
the belly looks quite trim. Much better cooking than I'm 
going to be."

"You're not going to be cooked until you stop pushing 
out girl-meat." Sandra pointed out to Allison. "That 
husband of yours can't get enough of your fricasseed 
breast recipe, and it doesn't work unless the meat's 
really tender."

"It was your fourth daughter you served for your hubby's 
birthday this year, wasn't it?" asked Jill, getting a 
nod from Allison. "He must have been happy, she had a 
lovely well-developed rack. What are you expecting this 
time?"

"Another girl." said Alison, patting her belly 
comfortably. "By the time it's my turn I'm only going to 
be fit for stew."

"Let's just hope no one has plans to eat her anus." 
interjected Dora, the oldest member of their group, who 
had been considering Cecily from a position that gave a 
direct view into her crack. "That's looking a bit like 
it's seen better days."

That did make Cecily blushed a little. She was just 
glad, among understanding friends, she wouldn't be 
expected to explain why her arsehole was in such poor 
condition.

"It's a boys school." pointed out Sandra. "If there's 
some kind of macho competition that needs Ceci's anus to 
be eaten, I don't expect they'll worry too much what 
condition it's in. Anyway, it's always a tough piece of 
gristle from any meat-girl, whatever you do with it."

"Of course, you're to be butchered at your John's 
school." Dora said. "That could be a bit awkward. Do you 
know if it's going to be public or private?"

"Public, unfortunately." said Cecily, speaking for the 
first time in a while.

That brought out a round of sympathetic tutting, and 
someone said, "That's a shame, having to go through that 
in front of John and his friends."

"At least you know your snapper will be appreciated. 
When my lad Ralph was leaving Stoke Hall he was really 
unhappy that I hadn't been picked. Apparently the boy 
whose mother was selected got the honour of eating her 
pussy."

She'd forgotten Linda's boy had been to Stoke Hall as 
well. Cecily had half a mind to ask the woman if she 
knew what happened to the meat at the leavers' dinner, 
but wasn't sure, even if Ralph had given his mother all 
the details, that she wanted to find out. Anyway, she 
reasoned with herself, Linda wasn't much of a talker, 
that little speech had been the longest she'd made in a 
while.

With the conversation moving on to children, always a 
reliable topic when mothers were gathered together, 
Cecily took a sip of the tea that had been kindly placed 
by her host near her left hand. There'd be more 
discussion of her suitability for the pot before the 
party broke up, but, so far, she didn't think her body 
had come out of it too badly.

"Well, good luck Ceci." said Sandra, as they stood 
together while Cecily got dressed in the hall. "I hope 
you do your son proud. He certainly should be happy with 
the quality of your eating."

"Thanks Sandra. I hope he will be." replied Cecily, 
wincing a little as she eased her bra over her tender 
nipples.

"It's a shame about those." her friend said, noticing 
the wince. "I agree with Jill, natural tit-meat always 
tastes so much better."

****

Squashed into the bedroom she now shared with Emma, 
Cecily had quickly got over being naked in front of her 
daughter. It wasn't as if she had a choice, there was no 
way she could get a decent night's sleep with any kind 
of cover rubbing against her increasingly tender 
breasts. Even her buttocks chafed uncomfortably.

Emma, in contrast, was delighting in being a naked meat-
girl. In the confines of a small bed they frequently 
found themselves touching more intimately than Cecily 
found comfortable. Emma just took such contact in her 
stride, sometimes running fingers through the thick hair 
of her mother's bush when her hand strayed into it. 
Cecily found it harder, tending to jerk away when she 
realised her hand was resting somewhere she considered 
inappropriate - although she wasn't always noticing now 
- but it was still creating an unexpected intimacy with 
her daughter.

Intimacy wasn't an issue for Emma. Now she and her 
mother were both meat-girls, she'd stopped worrying 
about what she said or did in front of Cecily. It was 
hard for Cecily to admit, but her daughter was right, 
there was no real difference between them, they were 
both just sows waiting for slaughter. Free of maternal 
censure, Emma had started revealing details that would 
have had her punished on the spot before. Tonight the 
girl's conversation came round to the time she'd once 
sucked her brother John off for a dare, taking it all 
the way until he came over her face. Almost in 
competition, Cecily found herself telling Emma 
everything that John had done with her. Her daughter's 
reply, typical of the attitude of the younger 
generation, contained another eye-opener for Cecily.

"I'm not surprised he wanted your arse. He's always been 
into it."

"Are you sure? How on earth would you know that?"

"Oh. When we were little he used to make me come with 
him and peek at you in the bathroom. Did you know, if 
you go up in the loft, you can see practically 
everything through that old ventilator in the ceiling?"

Cecily hadn't, but it hardly seemed worth complaining 
about now.

"Anyway." Emma continued. "When you did your stretches 
after a shower, especially when you were bending over, 
he used to rub his crotch quite a lot."

In this snug moment, Cecily asked a question she 
couldn't have imagined doing anywhere else.

"And were you rubbing your crotch as well?"

It was the first time she'd made her daughter blush in a 
very long time.

"Mum!" Emma complained. "How can you ask me that?"

Cecily noticed she hadn't said no, and just looked at 
her quizzically.

"All right." Emma confessed, in the face of the mother's 
stare. "Maybe just a bit, but you do have a very nice 
bottom."

"That's not what John's school think, otherwise I 
wouldn't be having it beaten black every Saturday."

"Don't remind me, I'm so jealous. Dad says there's 
nothing about my meat he wants improved."

"You should take that as a compliment." pointed out her 
mother. "Anyway, what if your dad wanted the same as 
John after beating you. I can tell you your father's 
even bigger than John. Going to the loo's agony for me 
now, I'm not sure you'd be left able to walk."

"Don't tease me, I know I'm not getting any of that." 
was Emma's grumpy reply. "Dad's already told me I can't 
stick anything inside, not even a finger in my pussy. 
Apparently I need to be absolutely tight for the party."

They'd fallen into this odd cross-talk, Cecily 
complaining about her experiences, although it was 
really more about how degraded she felt more than the 
suffering, and Emma bemoaning the fact that she wasn't 
getting similar treatment. It didn't stop Cecily from 
still occasionally being surprised, as she was now, by 
how far Emma wanted to go.

"Sorry darling, I keep forgetting you're after that 
stuff. It's just I'm not comfortable with it." Cecily 
admitted. "When you're brought up to think of exposing 
your body as dirty it's not possible to be happy at 
having it gawked at."

"But we're meat now." protested Emma. "You're just a sow 
waiting for slaughter, you don't have to worry about 
social niceties. It's not as though anyone expects you 
to. Do you remember that meat-girl we saw squatting in 
the street and taking a piss last month? Even you didn't 
comment on it."

"I know you're taught to enjoy it, and that's good, but 
when I was at school it wasn't like that. For us 
becoming meat was meant to be a slightly disagreeable 
duty we just had to perform, there was no suggestion we 
should enjoy it."

Emma looked a little curiously at her mother. When she 
spoke again it was quite slowly, in the voice of someone 
who was working things out.

"You are enjoying it, at least a bit, aren't you mum?" 
she asked slowly. "You might as well admit it, I'll 
probably find out anyway now we're sharing a bed."

Her daughter's insight broke Cecily. She actually sobbed 
a little as she confessed to masturbating over the most 
degrading experiences of her life. Emma's assurances 
that it was okay, that she didn't mind if her mother 
wanted to frig herself in their bed, didn't entirely 
allay her old-fashioned guilt. It was an uneasy sleep 
she finally managed that night.

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


(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.