The search for bigger and better challenges in the hunting of big game had taken me to all corners of the world, and the search for a particularly rare form of boar had led me to a remote, mountainous region of Northern Europe. I had never been able to adequately describe the thrill I got from hunting big game, but an acquaintance with a psychoanalytic bent had once offered the opinion that it had something to do with my relatively small stature and diminutive frame. Her theory was that I subconsciously felt a need to assert my dominance over my environment, and a socially acceptable way to accomplish this was through the sport of hunting.

I was hunting alone, as I always did, and having absolutely no luck at all, when I chanced upon a cottage in the middle of nowhere. If I had been in a desert I would have sworn it was a mirage, but there it was, a thin wisp of smoke curling from its chimney providing proof that it was inhabited. Almost by instinct, I began walking towards it, roughly calculating in my mind how far this dwelling was from any other form of civilization. I had been airdropped into a remote valley and two full days of hiking had brought me here, so it seemed that the nearest village of any size must be at least one hundred miles away.

I was musing on all this when the door of the cottage opened, and a woman of incredible size stepped out into the sunshine. She seemed massive, but well proportioned. As I got nearer, I estimated she must have been nearly six and a half feet tall, with a weight approaching two hundred pounds, and not an ounce of it fat.

She waved and smiled at me, "You are lost, ya?"

Her accent, while Germanic, was unlike any other I had encountered. She waved an admonishing finger at me. "We punish trespassers here."

I shrugged my shoulders and offered her a sheepish smile. As I looked over her powerful form, the thought occurred to me that being punished by her might not be entirely unpleasant.

"You are tired," she observed. "Come in and I make you tea."

Dutifully putting my gun down outside the cottage, I went inside and sat down at a rough wooden table.

"I am Inga," she offered as she approached the table with a steaming mug in her hand. "Drink this." I really couldn't take my eyes off of her as I drank. With her white skin and blonde hair, she may as well have been an Amazon from some ancient Nordic tribe. I didn't doubt that her powerful chest and arms were the product of an absolutely pure environment: pure water, air and food. And then I fell into oblivion.

When I awoke, I immediately felt that something was wrong. More than that, everything was wrong. As consciousness rushed back to my mind, my body stayed curiously numb and heavy. My tongue felt thick in my mouth, and each movement required concentrated effort on my behalf. After blinking my eyes a half dozen times, I looked down at my body and was stunned to see that I was completely naked. An upward glance revealed that I was on the floor, but not merely laying on the floor. All around me were the thick iron bars of a cage. I was able to bring myself to my hands and knees, but that was as high as the cage went. I remained on all fours, and my slow movements attracted the attention of Inga, who was busy with some project near the center of the room.

"Ah, you are waking up," she said. "That is good."

As I focused my eyes on what she was doing, I saw that the metal door to an enormous oven was open. Inga was picking something up with a large pair of tongs, clothes, I realized, and then with a shiver, my clothes. As if she read my mind, Inga looked at me and winked.

"No more need for these."

Inga closed the door to the oven with a heavy clang, then came over to the cage and leaned down to look at me.

"I tell you we punish trespassers."

I tried to move my tongue, desperate to somehow talk my way out of this, but all that came out was a muffled gargle. Seeing this, Inga smiled broadly at me and pulled what looked like a handful of weeds off the table.

"Your tongue heavy, like everything else. This root nice for that."

I gazed dimly at the plant and the realization that she had drugged my tea finally hit me. When I looked up I saw that Inga was working at a lock on top of the cage and I felt almost indescribable relief. I was going to be let go after all! This was her idea of some kind of bizarre joke, no doubt. She lifted the iron grate easily and looked down at me.

"You will be nice surprise for Greta, when she come home. I cook you up for her."

Even in my drugged state, Inga must have seen the flash of terror that lit up my eyes at her words.

"Don't worry, you not feel much."

The idea that she was serious about cooking me was still buzzing in my mind when Inga bent down and scooped me up into her arms. She lifted me as easily as she might a load of washing and carried me over to the oven that was set into the brick of the cottage. As she easily held me with one hand, she opened the door and I saw how large the oven was inside, where the remains of my clothes were still smoldering.

"You cook nice in there," Inga said. "We make it big for lost men like you."

With a heavy clang, Inga closed the door.

"Now we clean you up."

With that, Inga carried me outside. As she carried me across the yard, I squinted my eyes against the rays of the sun and tried to struggle, but it was pointless. I was as weak as a newborn baby, and Inga laughed at my efforts. As I felt myself bouncing against her chest, along with the strong grip she had on my back and buttocks, a faint sexual tingling came over me. Her rough, powerful hands held me easily, and I could only imagine how many hours of manual labor had gone into creating the muscles and callouses I could feel squeezing me against her.

As we approached a shed set off from the cottage, Inga shifted me in her arms, then laid me on the ground in front of the shed as she worked at the shed's lock with a key. After a distinct click, she pushed the door open, then turned around to look at me on the ground. I hadn't even the strength to turn over or crawl, and in the time it had taken her to get the door open, I had developed a full-blown erection which Inga couldn't fail to see.

Inga smiled as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "Ach, you like me, yah?"

As she stood over me, she seemed to be a giant, stretching far up into the sky. She lifted one of her legs and planted her boot firmly on top of my penis, and twisted it from side to side. This action only caused my penis to stiffen further, and when Inga removed her boot, she gave my penis an appraising look.

"We cook your wiener up nice, too. Come on."

With that, she grabbed one of my legs and pulled me into the shed. Within what seemed like seconds I had been tied up so that I hung from my hands, with my knees pulled up, spread, and tied to the ceiling of the shed as well. In this position, I was completely spread and vulnerable, and I was ashamed that my penis remained pointed upward, belying an excitement that I couldn't explain.

Inga positioned a large basin beneath me, and then began scooping out quantities of a lard-like concoction from a metal jar that stood on one of the shelves. Humming to herself, she slathered this thick substance over every square inch of my body below the neck. Immediately, I felt a sharp, burning sensation, and I couldn't imagine what this was supposed to do.

I scarcely had time to think about it, because Inga swiftly grabbed an animal-skin bag, filled it with water, then attached a short length of hose to it. She greased up the hose with some of the grease covering my body, and roughly shoved it up my anus. With an easy motion, she tied a rope over one of the rafters, elevating the bag, and as the water ran into my colon, I realized she was administering a primitive enema.

Having finished her work, she stood back and looked me over. Her hands ran over my calves and thighs, then my stomach and arms. She playfully pinched my still engorged penis between two fingers, nodding and making approving noises.

"You do very nice. Nice bum and wiener."

With that, she turned and exited the shed, closing the door behind her. At this point, of course, I should have called for help, or somehow extricated myself from this position, but I did neither. All I could manage was a slight gurgle, and my strongest exertions only caused me to sway slightly. All I was aware of was the stinging of my skin, my colon slowly filling up with water, and my red penis waving obscenely in the air.

After a few minutes, Inga returned. She pulled the tube from my anus and I almost immediately defecated into the basin below me. Inga grunted her approval, and within seconds the tube was back up me, my bowels filling with warm water once again.

This scenario was repeated three more times, until Inga seemed satisfied at the results of my fifth enema. She grabbed a basin of water and began splashing it over my body, and as the grease came away easily, so did every follicle of my body hair. Inga checked over every inch of my skin, turning me this way and that, and it was at this point that the certainty of my fate really began to sink in. What was happening to me was no accident, and no whim. Everything that Inga did had a measured quality about it, a quality that I realized came from not only self-assurance, but experience. Inga had had many men in this position before me. They had been drugged, stripped, cleaned, and then cooked. To her, men were meat, little more than a source of protein, to be prepared and served as artfully as possible.

Realizing all this, I felt hot tears making their way into my eyes and then streaming down my cheeks. Inga looked at me with what I thought was pity in her eyes, and she wiped away my tears with her hand.

"Is all right, little man. I do this before. Look how happy your wiener is."

And it was true. Despite my fear and utter humiliation at the hands of this woman, my penis was still hopelessly erect. Inga cupped my chin in her hand, and looked into my eyes.

"I do nice thing for you."

With that, she bent down and unlaced her boots, kicking them off, then looking up at me. For a moment, I was mystified, but then with two rough motions she pulled off her blouse and stepped out of her skirt. In an instant, she was gloriously naked, a woman like this having no need or interest in underwear of any kind. She put her hands behind her head and turned around for me, her body undulating with a grace that seemed incredible for a woman her size. Everything about her was big, but perfectly so. Her breasts were each the size of two normal woman's breasts, and it was doubtful that gravity would ever have any effect on them. They jutted out from her chest in all their milky white glory, surmounted by light pink nipples that were perfect against her white skin. Her buttocks was mammoth, without an ounce of cellulite on it. Muscles rippled in her thighs as she turned, and the whole effect was one of ideal beauty combined with almost elemental power.

"You like?" Inga's voice broke through my haze, and if my now trembling penis weren't enough of a clue, I managed to nod my head slightly. Inga smiled, almost a little-girl smile, happy to be flattered, and her hand reached out for my penis. Despite its erect length, my penis disappeared into her palm, and the only movement was her thumb on the underside of it as she looked at me curiously and I desperately tried to ogle what I could of her body.

It couldn't have been more than fifteen seconds before my orgasm burst forth and Inga let loose a giggle of delight.

"Good boy! It's too bad Greta not here. She likes to play too."

As I was still panting from the ejaculation that Inga had pulled out of me, a dim hope entered my mind that maybe my erect penis would be my salvation. Maybe Inga would decide she liked playing with it and decide not to cook me. Maybe she would keep me, and as my mind searched for the right word, it blazed into my consciousness fully formed. Pet. Maybe she would keep me as her pet, playing with me as it amused her.

All these hopes were dashed as Inga unhooked me from my ropes and picked me up.

"Okay, time to cook."

Not bothering to dress, she carried me back inside under her arm and laid me on a table. I tried to follow her as she moved back and forth, rummaging around for various utensils. At length, she reached into a closet and pulled out a strange contraption whose function I could barely guess at. As Inga laid it down next to me it was almost as if she could read the question in my eyes.

"Is a cooking board. It hold you down nice."

With that, she rolled me over onto the board and began to secure me. My neck was placed into a kind of crook that came up from the board and held my chin roughly six inches above the board. I felt movement at the back of my neck and realized that Inga had slid down some kind of securing bar to keep my head from going anywhere. My wrists were then strapped down with a kind of thick, heavy rope, and then my elbows received the same treatment. Satisfied with her progress, Inga then went to work on my legs.

She pulled my knees up and the same kind of thick rope soon had my legs spread and immobile. It was a simple matter to secure my ankles in a similar fashion, and Inga stood back to admire her handiwork. I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked. With my head bent low and my knees spread and pulled up, my naked ass was jutting towards the ceiling, the highest point of my body. Inga circled me, pulling at my restraints here and there before pronouncing herself satisfied.

"Ja, is good. You make pretty looking cooking loaf. We bake you now for Greta."

I could hear her moving by my side, and then felt a kind of wet brush sweeping my body up and down. I could only surmise that it was some kind of cooking oil, but my mind was fixed on the little tune that Inga had begun to hum as she brushed and dabbed the oil into all my cracks and crevices. Everything about this was completely normal to her. I could only imagine how many hapless men had been here before me in the same position. For Inga, it was a simple enough proposition--if you found a man on your land, you captured him, stripped him, cleaned him, and cooked him up.

I heard Inga put her brush down and out of the corner of my eye I saw her bend low and look beneath me at the underside of my body. She evidently didn't like what she saw, because I heard her exclaim under her breath, "Ach, is no good."

She came around in front of me and smiled. "I show you something you like."

With that, she turned around and bent over, presenting me with a close-up view of her powerful, naked ass. She began to wiggle it in front of me, then reached her hands back and rubbed her cheeks, occasionally spreading them to give me a glimpse of her light brown asshole buried deep between her cheeks. In spite of my position, I could feel my cock rising, and in a flash I realized what she had been dissatisfied with when she looked beneath me. She wanted to cook me with an erect cock, and here I was in the process of giving her just what she wanted!

I closed my eyes and tried to not think of the gorgeous ass that was being exhibited inches from my face. Even as I desperately ran a million different thoughts through my head, there came the realization that it was all no use. Even with my eyes closed, I could smell her, and beyond that I could feel the warmth from her crack heating up my face. There was little I could do about either of those. As I inhaled her dark, musky odor, my cock jerked by degrees to full, straining erection, and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it.

Inga paused in her gyrations to look beneath me and her face creased with a broad smile. "Good boy!"

She disappeared from my view, but in an instant I felt deft fingers tightening a piece of twine around the base of my penis, giving me a permanent erection. A second later, two more strands of twine had lifted and separated each testicle. They were both tied off, and then the brush was reaching between my legs, coating my genitals with a thick layer of oil.

Inga went over to a counter and pulled a small canister from the wall, reaching inside it as she walked back to me. She pulled a handful of white flour from it, and began sprinkling it over my entire body, until I was absolutely chalk white with a thin flour coating. Inga stood back, tilting her head as she looked me over, before nodding her satisfaction. She moved over to the oven door, which was set into a brick wall. Opening it, I got a glimpse of a fiery orange interior. Inga stood in the light of the fire, the shadows of the flame flickering over her naked body as she poked here and there into the interior of the oven with a metal prod. Even as she stood there, a fine sweat formed on her from the heat pouring from the oven door, and I saw her make an adjustment to a baking rack in the interior before she turned back to me.

"We cook you nice and slow, little one."

She walked back towards me and then stood two feet in front of me, staring down as I tried to raise my eyes to meet hers. She stood with her legs slightly spread, and then placed her hands on her hips as a smile came to her face. She was looking at me like a collector looks at a trophy or prized specimen of some kind. Her power and presence radiated through the room, and I felt a strange kind of admiration for this woman who had mastered me so easily and so completely. I tried to gurgle some kind of sound out of my throat, and my fingers and toes curled and uncurled as my helpless cock twitched spasmodically beneath me.

One stride brought her right up to me, and my nose was buried in her pubic hair as I felt her hand take hold of the back of my head. Instinctively, I darted out my tongue and felt it touch Inga's outer labia, which were wet and salty, whether from the heat or her excitement I couldn't tell. I really didn't care what it was as I stretched every fiber of my being to insert my tongue deeper into her pussy. Despite my humiliating position, and despite being utterly at her mercy, a wild thought had entered my head and taken hold of me. If only I could prove my worth to her by servicing her in this way, maybe she would take pity on me and keep with her to pleasure her pussy anytime she desired.

Inga was now pumping her hips rhythmically into my face, and I could feel the wetness building between her legs. In my awkward position, it was difficult to keep my tongue in her, but she didn't seem to particularly care where it was. She now had both hands on the back of my head and she pulled my face into her, humping herself against me violently. My nose was repeatedly crushed against her pubic bone, and I thought fleetingly of the black eyes I would soon have, until it occurred to me I might not live long enough to get two black eyes. With that I desperately stuck my tongue out and stiffened it, letting Inga hump herself against it if she wished.

I was feeling a little dazed now, not merely from the drug, but from the pummeling Inga was delivering to my face. I was also feeling short of oxygen as my nose and mouth were filled every other second with Inga's pussy and pubic hair. Impossibly, her rhythm began to increase, and as the beating continued I gave up trying to lick her and passively submitted to the inevitable. It came within seconds, a shuddering orgasm that wrenched a load groan out of Inga. In her moment of supreme lust, she pulled my face deeply into her and I could feel her pussy muscles spasmodically twitching as my face was bathed in a warm wave of her cum. When she pulled back it was all I could do to look up at her, hoping against hope that using my face as a humping device might have somehow earned me a reprieve.

It was a vain hope. With a curt motion she pulled my head back and her bright blue eyes stared at me unblinkingly as her blonde hair fell around the curves of her soft face. "Not this time, little one. Into the oven you go."

I felt her powerful hands grip the sides of the board and lift me bodily into the air. With three swift strides she had me before the oven, and she placed the head of the board onto a baking rack, before pausing to adjust her grip. I was to be put into the oven head first, and I could feel the heat blasting over me as Inga moved to the rear and lifted the back of the board. With one shove I was completely inserted into the oven. The heat was indescribable, assailing me from all sides. I craned my neck as best I could, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Inga standing at the oven door, smiling in at me. She raised her hand in a wave and said "Bye-bye," as the door closed with a heavy metal clang.

I could barely catch my breath in the heat, hoping against hope that I would somehow be rescued. I felt the flour and the oil on my body heating up, my cock still rock hard beneath me in spite of everything. I gasped for each breath, sweat running freely into my eyes and although it felt like hours, it was likely only a minute or two before I felt myself lapsing into blessed unconsciousness. And just as I took one last look at the bright orange walls of my oven tomb, I heard the door open and felt a blast of cool air sweep over me.

I craned around and saw Inga reaching in to grab the board, two thick towels wrapped around her hands to prevent her from burning herself. She yanked me free from the oven, yet balanced the head of the board at the opening of the oven door. I thought my deliverance was at hand, but Inga merely smiled and held up a long thermometer before my eyes.

"I forget," she said, and gave a small, girlish giggle.

Removing the thermometer from my sight, I soon felt it being thrust deep into my anus. Inga would now merely have to look at the thermometer stuffed into my upraised ass to know my internal temperature; that is, when I was fully cooked through. Without further ceremony I was deposited deep into the bowels of the oven again, and the heavy iron door closed behind me with a thudding clang. I heard a steel bar being locked into place, and then there was only the roaring of the oven, and the roaring of the blood in my ears.

As consciousness left me, I did not expect to regain it, but I did. When I came to I was back in my cage, and as my senses returned I could see Inga sitting at the table with another large woman that could only be Greta. At Greta's feet was the unmistakable figure of a naked man who was stone dead. One of Greta's heavy boots rested upon his upturned ass and his neck was twisted unnaturally to one side. Seeing that I was awake, Inga came over and knelt by my cage, indicating the man on the floor.

"It is your lucky day, little one. Greta found a poacher too, only he put up a little too much fuss."

I looked up at Greta, who smiled at me and made a twisting motion with her hands. Even although this was intended as a purely playful gesture, the muscles in her forearms stood out in ridges. The man on the floor would not have suffered very long.

I turned my gaze to Inga and she reached a hand between the bars to stroke my head. "Do not worry, your time will come. But we must cook this one first while he is still fresh."

Greta rose from the table and came over to me, and the floor rumbled under her heavy steps. In her hand she carried a piece of paper to which she referred. "You can help us with the recipe."

Inga unlocked the top of the cage and as they both gazed down at me, I was at a loss to determine how I could possibly help them with anything. The paralyzing tea was still flowing through my system, and I could barely move my limbs at all. Greta glanced at the paper in her hand again.

"We need some man juice to cook with, and you will give it to us."

The two sisters looked at each other and Greta spoke. "Will you milk him, Inga? He is yours, after all."

"No, no." Inga shook her head. "You must do the milking, Greta."

Inga turned her smile on me. "Greta is very good with rubbing wieners. You will like her."

Inga turned to go and Greta stood up for a moment to take a cup from the table. As she bent over me, Inga's voice came from the far side of the room, "The wiener gets bigger if he sees your bum."

Greta smiled at this and pulled her cotton smock over her head with an easy motion. Like Inga, she was naked beneath it, with a body that had no need of underclothing. Her thighs were the size of my waist, and above them jutted a powerful, milky-white ass that I couldn't help but stare at. Greta straddled my cage and her bare ass hung perhaps six inches from my face. A moment later I felt a strong, calloused hand grip my cock and begin an insistent milking motion.

I could hear Inga moving about the room and she and Greta engaged in casual conversation as the milking continued. I tried desperately to distract myself from my situation, trying to think of anything I could, but it was impossible to ignore the two white orbs hovering over me. Between them lay a deep, dark crevice that opened and closed slightly as Greta worked on me. Almost involuntarily, I found myself straining as best I could to raise my head. I was in an utterly helpless and degrading position, but I had an uncontrollable urge to bury my face between the ass-cheeks of the woman who was milking me the way she might any common farm animal.

Despite my efforts, I was still too weak to raise my head more than an inch or two, and even reaching out my tongue for the slightest contact left me a good two or three inches short. It was at that moment that Inga entered my vision and laughed as she looked down at me.

"Greta, you should see. The little one is wanting to clean you with his tongue.."

Greta bent over to look between her legs and I caught a glimpse of her heavy, swaying breasts as she smiled at my futile efforts.

"I will help you, little one." I felt Inga's hand grab the back of my hair and she lifted my head, pressing my face deep between her sister's cheeks. My tongue darted out in all directions as Inga continued to press, grinding my face deeper and deeper. Greta responded by lowering herself still further and soon I was desperately trying to get my breath. Inga sensed this and pulled my head out with the single order, "Breathe." A moment later I was shoved back in with a second order, "Clean Greta."

How often this was repeated I have no idea, but I gave myself up utterly to what was happening to me. I tried to lick and clean Greta anyway I could, hoping that I could please her in some way and avoid the fate that these two women had mapped out for me. At one time I had housed all kinds of ambitions related to money, positions, houses, titles, and the like, but in that moment my only ambition was to be kept as the personal ass-cleaner of these two women.

Quite against my will I felt an orgasm welling up inside me, and I buried my tongue deep into Greta's anus with a small yelp as my semen gushed forth to be caught in the cup that Greta had ready. My jism was swiftly taken away and mixed into a sauce that Greta was preparing. Inga picked up the body of the dead man and carried him outside for cleaning. Greta followed her moments later and when I was left alone I quickly fell into a gentle sleep.

How long I slept I don't know, but I was awakened by Inga taking me into her arms and carrying me outside. When she deposited me on the ground my head was turned to meet an incredible sight. Just as I was to have been roasted in the oven, this other man was now being barbequed. A thick wooden pole had been driven up his anus until it emerged from his mouth. His hands and feet were tied to the pole as he rotated over a glowing fire. Greta was seated, turning him with one hand as she drank home-made beer from a large stein. Every few minutes she basted him with a marinade that was partially composed of my own semen.

The poor man must have cooked for hours before Greta carved a thick slice from his rump and pronounced him done. He was taken off the fire and Greta and Inga proceeded to butcher him with the utmost ease and economy. He came apart like some poorly stitched together rag-doll and then the two sisters settled down under the stars to enjoy their meal. I had seen that his penis had been neatly sliced in two and this is the delicacy that both women attended to first. To my horror, Inga offered me a small piece stuck onto the end of her fork, but I shook my head in total revulsion at the very idea. Inga didn�t take offense in the least, instead simply smiling as she popped the morsel into her mouth and commenced chewing.

As I watched them devour the man I confess there was an odd kind of eroticism to their actions. It is every man�s dream to put himself inside women, especially women like this, and here this nameless man who had just been pulled to pieces was doing just that. Bit by bit, he was disappearing into Inga and Greta. Bit by bit, the very essence of who he had been was passing through their voluptuous and incredible bodies. That was the last thought in my mind as I lapsed into sleep under the star swept sky.

In the next few days, the sisters continued to devour their victim, relishing every meal as if it was their first. I was grateful for the short reprieve I had earned, but I knew that my time would be coming. I was simply fresh meat, being kept alive and fed until it was my time to be cooked and eaten. Day by day, either Inga or Greta had plied me with the paralyzing concoction that turned me into little more than a naked animal. So powerful was this formula that they had ceased to cage me, but instead let me lie on the floor so that they could nudge me with their feet as they passed and then giggle with each other at my helpless erections. But as the last remnants of their first victim were swept into a stew pot, I realized that neither Inga nor Greta had forced the potion upon me today.

As the hours passed I felt strength and feeling returning to my limbs and hope sprang up within me. Doubtless, each sister had assumed that the other had drugged me. When Greta announced that she was going out for firewood, I toyed with the idea of trying to escape from Inga, but then gave the idea up as I surreptitiously tried to move my legs. After so many days of inactivity, I was still weak and I would stand no chance against her. But then, no sooner had Greta left than Inga also headed for the door. I had no idea where she was going, but as I twisted my head I saw her pass a window and deduced she was heading to the vegetable patch behind the house.

How long would she be digging up vegetables? I had no idea. But I also had no choice. This would be my only chance to escape and I had to take it. Slowly, I managed to get to my knees, then my feet. Knowing where Inga kept her clothes, I staggered toward the bureau and pulled out some pants and a shirt, both much too large, but I was in no position to worry about a proper fit. With one glance out the window to see if Inga was returning, I stumbled for the door and then out into the clean air of the afternoon.

There was a copse of woods not fifty yards from the house and I ran for it as best I could, without looking back. Reaching it, I kept running, my feet bleeding into the rough earth as I ran and ran and ran. Day became night and although I paused for what I guessed was an hour�s sleep, I kept moving as fast as I could, certain the two sisters would be on my trail. The sun was setting the next day when I spied the small town of Marsberg and I knew, finally, that my salvation was at hand.

Thanks to a quick call to my credit card company I was able to get a room at a well-kept hotel and I had also arranged to have clothing and other essential items mailed to my lodging by the next day. I hadn�t dared tell anyone of my narrow escape because who would believe such an improbable tale. Besides, I knew full well I wouldn�t have been able to find my way back through the woods to where Greta and Inga were most likely lying in wait for the next unfortunate sportsman to cross their path.

I sipped my warmed milk and looked out into the black night. I wondered what Inga and Greta where thinking at this very moment? When had they realized I was gone? I smiled to myself, thinking it would be a good lesson to them that there was at least one man who they would not be able to make a meal out of. And it was at that very moment that I felt an odd tingling in my extremities, a tingling I had felt before. I felt the strength going out of me and my tongue thickening as the glass of milk slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor. It was then that the door opened and both Inga and Greta were standing there, gazing at me with what I can only describe as affection as I sank to the floor from sheer weakness.

As I watched, Greta trundled a laundry cart into the room as Inga easily slipped the clothes of my body. In one instant I was naked and in the next I had been picked up and deposited into the bottom of the laundry hamper. Greta and Inga hovered over me, amusement and pleasure mingling in their faces. Perhaps at my predicament, perhaps at the dining pleasure they knew I would soon be giving them.

In the next instant a load of dirty sheets had been dumped on top of me and I felt myself being wheeled out of the room and down the long hallway. I knew now, without a doubt, that I would soon be back in the close confines of their remote house. I knew that I would be cleaned and prepared for a return trip into the oven, a trip from which I would not return. Dimly, I could hear the voices of Great and Inga above me, and I realized with a start that they were debating on how to best fill out the evening�s menu.

Soon enough, I would be carved into bite sized pieces and I would be passing between their lips. I would be swallowed, passing down their throats into their stomachs. The proteins and nutrients of my body would soon be giving life and strength to theirs. I would pass through their small intestines and then enter their large intestines. And then, after the last vestige of my usefulness was drawn from me, I would be pushed from their warm anuses, my journey on this world complete. And as that vision filled my mind, I realized that there were innumerable fates worse than this. In fact, as I felt my cock growing in anticipation of what was to come, it was hard to imagine a fate better than this.

The End